Open Chronicles Book One: Abjuration

[Soliel]

Yu'ldeo Pubela | Aberresai Savannah​

The village was small, perhaps all of one hundred people. Yu'ldeo Puebla lay along the borders of the Aberrsai Savannah and Falwood, nestled between the high valleys of the south and the plains of the north. It wasn't a village of great renown. It was a mirror image of the dozen or so scattered ones across the plains. What made it significant was what brought a hunter of the Order of the White Lotus here.

The villagers had never seen anyone wear such a mask before, watching as the woman quietly strode into the village, heading straight towards the marketplace. Her pace was steady, even. That masked visage would not turn to look at anyone else, but would seemingly focus intently straight ahead, as if on a mission, with a purpose.

The mask she wore was the color of bleached, silvery bone. There were indentations for the eyes, but seemingly no slits for one to see through. It had no discernable mouth and the ends of the mask would curve inward and end just prior to the curve of her ears. Dark hair cut in a straight slash at her shoulders, wearing a red tunic with stiffened leather plates at the shoulders. A burgundy cloak would flow from her shoulders, and at her hip was a long, thin sword within an intricately carved ebony sheath. Dust would cover her worn boots and each seemed to send an eerie sensation down the spine.

A game vendor at the far end of the market had just set aside a pheasant on top of a rack when he turned to pluck another from the basket at his side. He gave a startled cry at the sudden appearance of the silent, masked woman, that stoic visage seemingly staring down at him with the stoic presence of a grim reaper.

"You startled me!" Maise exclaimed, sweat beading along his temples, adam's apple bobbing in nervous trepidation. Before he could continue, the masked woman spoke in common, her elocution curt and to the point, slightly accented in a manner that would identify her as someone from deep in the Savannah.

"Maise Tsarson, where is your brother?"

 

[Ademar Acero]

There was no value here, at least for the Dreadlord. Just a small settlement with no more than a hundred people, maybe less. It was exactly like the rest of its neighboring villages. Little trade happened here, but it was a point of interest for Vel Anir. The land was of a great value and it would offer little resistance for northern expansion.

Whatever land there was available, Vel Anir would claim it even if it the dirt itself had little value.

With Ademar’s reconnaissance he would give excellent news of the layout of the land. Little presence of any major military bodies as the town’s only offered warriors of their own in little numbers. Still there was something about these lands. Almost mystical or maybe they were.

The people here found happiness in a life of little. They were not a great kingdom with their borders in vast distances. Perhaps one of the trade offs for not having a large group of people, governed by the elite.

The mystical sense gave him an idea that there could be mages here and better...children with magical powers that could bolster the Dreadlords. A ripe harvest for picking.

He came proudly in his armor that reflected the colors of House Virak. The villagers constantly observed him, knowing he was an outsider. Did he mean harm or trouble? Maybe he was just passing by and needed to resupply. Already odd things came to this village as a mysterious woman graced the village without a face to show.

What could come next?

 

[Soliel]

|| Ademar Acero ||

At the query, the gamemaster Maise Tsarson's face blanched, the blood draining from his face. He immediately began to babble out, "I-I 'ave no idea what yer talkin' about, my lady..."

He brought his hands down to his waist, the stand in front of him hiding where the Maise's hands were drifting towards. His right slowly was creeping towards the hunting knife at his waist.

"I ain't have no kin." he lied through his rotted teeth, skin clammy, the dark brown tuffs of hair on the top of his head sticking to his scalp.

The masked huntress gave no indication on her expression, that the bleached bone mask unyielding in it's the blank carved shell.

"He is here." Soliel stated with certainty. Another pause, that mask inching closer as if to penetrate that blank stare at the Gamemaster, "Please cooperate." Not far from the stall, Ademar Acero would notice the commotion of patrons and shopowners pointing and gesturing to the masked woman and Maise.

"Who is that?" A woman would ask in a hushed murmur.

"I don't know, she's asking Maise about his brother."

"I thought Saiso left years ago!"

"Oh, I saw him around Maise's home a few days back. Tried to say hello but he just ignored me."

 

[Ademar Acero]

Did he care what was going on? Truthfully, no. If someone were tor murder another being in front of him, he would not stop them. He wasn’t here to police anyone...not yet at least. That would come when the nobles of Vel Anir decide to conquer these lands, then he would freely have some authority here.

But every detail mattered in these parts. Every stone, turned and unturned was essential in his reconnaissance report to Lady Elise and House Virak.

He walked to where the patrons were gathered, mass taking in what they could see and later gossip around the village. Typical behavior found in every corner of the world. Ademar heard some of the whispers and caught on a few key words: Brother; Saiso; Maise; Back home. Why did it matter for people of a man’s brother returning home after some time away? An important figure of this village? An infamous or famous reputation?

Whatever value this man had was made clear by the words of people.

There he saw a mysterious person, behind an ebony mask, and a man that was dressed similarly to everyone else here. All this fuss for this? But this was his business if Vel Anir would expand to these lands.

“State your business,” he demanded to the woman and the man, his voice firm with authority as he spoke. If they protested, he’d force the information out of them.

 

[Iktovian]

Iktovian was having trouble recalling how long he had been on the road, it had been long enough that his food had run out a day ago and his stomach was growling loudly in protest as he finally sauntered into the village. He wasn't sure exactly where he was, or who these people were to be building a settlement that to him seemed to be heaven itself. He could smell the market before he saw it, the rich aromas drawing him in.

He didn't notice the commotion, or the three individuals seemingly at the center of it, all he cared about was food. "How much for this sweetheart?" He asked the young woman standing behind a stall selling fruit, to get no response whatsoever. Her attention was elsewhere, and after getting no response when he repeated his question, he followed her gaze to finally notice what was happening.

He took measure of the situation as he bit into the apple he had picked up from the woman's stall, dropping a coin in front of her as he picked up another fruit and began walking towards the armored figures. Attire like this was not something he expected to see here, and if the villagers were in some sort of trouble with outsiders then he wanted no part with it.

But be it a lack of blood going to his head due to starvation, or some other arcane art clouding his judgement, in that moment he found his curiosity to be stronger than his caution. So he continued walking towards them, coming to a stop well within earshot of the armored man. For now a spectator like everyone else.​

 

[Soliel]

Iktovian Ademar Acero

The bone-bleached white mask gave a quick swivel over towards the man who interrupted Soliel's interrogation. From behind the mask, a twitch at the corner of her eye indicated her slight annoyance. Yet the cover allowed her to fix upon the stranger a stoic, deadpan expression. Two slits where the eyes would be, carved in but belaying no indication on what hue the woman's eyes were.

Her masked gaze swept over, Ademar from head to toe. Critical pieces of information gleaned from her quick perusal; Vel Anirian, House Virak from the symbol, and from the way her mask would provide an orange-like aura around him a magic-user.

Her training had required rigorous review of the major cities across Liadain, and Vel Anir had been one of them. Human-centric, Dreadlords, and magic users. As the city itself desired to keep to their own business, The Order of the White Lotus rarely had to work with anyone from the city. A save local few minor lords who were not able to afford a Dreadlord to do their wayward chaotic mages before it harmed their reputation typically was the reason.

Soliel had never worked personally for House Virak; the major houses tended to keep to themselves.

"This is not a House Virak matter Dreadlord," Soliel replied in a firm, but the quiet tone, swinging her attention back towards the game master. He'd already taken a few steps back, and the mere manner by which his eyes would dart left and right indicated that he would try and run at the earliest opportunity.

This was either going to go the hard way or the easy way.

"Your bother, Maise Tsarson." there was an edge of impatience that coated Soliel's voice. It was at that moment that Maise took his chances and drew his hand up, sending the hunting knife flying towards the direction of the huntress's chest.

 

[Ademar Acero]

So that’s how it’s going to be? What right did this woman or whatever she was to tell him this was not his business? She was right, it wasn’t but he disliked it when people told him to mind his own business.

And so he wouldn’t. He would just aggravate this woman furthermore.

“And who are you to say so,” he retorted in a heavy tone of voice, walking over a few more steps to Soliel and the man she was interrogating. His hand went to the hilt of his claymore, ready for any attacks from either subjects.

And there was an attack, but not against him; rather it was meant for the woman at her chest. His instincts reacted, knowing not much time would be made if he drew his sword, his free hand reacted to catch the knife and he did; however, the blade impaled his hand, blood coming out from his palm and the back of his hand. He yelped in pain, kicking Maise with a front kick from his right leg to push him.

With all that it allowed Maise to retreat, running away from Ademar and Soliel.

“You fuck,” and slowly pulled the knife out of his hand, blood still pouring. It would heal in time.

 

[Soliel]

Ademar Acero Iktovian

Damnit!

The mental curse rang through Soliel's mind, the white mask neither betraying her emotions nor facial reactions of annoyance. Years of being a Game Master had made Maise deft with the hunting weapon, allowing him to react quickly to attack. However, the Virak Dreadlord had made the mistake of attempting to block the instrument with his hand, coming to the sure and bloody conclusion that a sharp object would cut through flesh like a knife through butter.

Blood seemed to pour from the man's hand, spilling onto the ground. Around them, there was a sudden ruckus, as cries of alarm prompted vendors to move to the side. Maise tore past the pair, heading towards Iktovian's direction, attempting to flee.

Soliel drew her long sword, the quiet twang cutting the roar of exclamations. There was no time to determine if Ademar was alright, the clue to her quarry was on the run. That bone-white mask gave a brief, stoic overview of the mage, determined he would live, and then with a flash of her red cloak, took to the chase.

"Out of the way!" she called out, warning those to move from the fleeing man.