Completed Days most Dark

[Hector]

Some Five Years Ago...

Tall and with a straight back, Helena reminded herself. One hand on the scabbard, with eyes upon the horizon. She remembered Master Hiling's advice, and while the Dawn's Master of Life was a half-dwarf who stood some four feet and a half, Helena could never deny how tall she always felt.



"You will run into every branch, and every web strutting like that, young knight," Master Hawthorne teased, a crook at the corner of his lip as he strode like mist through the tangles of the wild. Ever did he glide forward, without a break in his stride, as if he saw all, and missed nothing. Still, as cold as he carried himself, his eyes shined warm, and his tone was sweet, familial. "Though I suppose you are faster still then our faithful brick," he smiled wider. "Come Osuin, this is not your first time through these wilds, is it?"

Overhead, through the canopy of the trees, there flit a dark shadow with black wings, long and proud and strong, its shadow never strayed far from the Master of Loch.

Helena's eyes narrowed some and her gaze gained an edge to it. "Master Hawthorne, neither of us," a branch smacked Helena right in the face, leaves and twigs poking into her mouth, forcing her to spit as she shook her head and blinked her eyes shut. She pushed away the branch, and walked forward. "No Syr, neither of us have ever ventured this deep into the Eldyr wood, nor so close to the great tree itself."

Master Hawthorne's eyes slid forward, and he nodded once. "Then it is best you heed my advice, yes, Syr Helena?" He smirked, and went on as his cloak of blue and gold trailed behind him.

"Don't mind him," Pursuant Eironmar comforted his juniors. "He means well, despite his methods."

"I mean no such thing," Master Hawthorne called back to them, some yards ahead and hard to see through the thick tangles of the wild land.

Eironmar smiled and shook his head. "It is best to move fluidly in terrain such as this, to not disturb the trees, nor the life that lives in its shadows," he advised, and moved forward. "We do not wish to stir any darkness that needs not see the light as of yet. Come," he moved slow enough for the two knights of dawn to follow. "We best not let Master Hawthorne stray too far."

---

Osuin

 

[Osuin]

Osuin was at the rear of the group, a position he held through most of the travel through the thick brush. Efforts made to keep up with the pace of the group were stunted by efforts made to keep his motions silent as he pushed through the forest. Detritus crunched under boot, and bent branches snapped back against his steel plate armour with muffled metallic pings.

“Well, it is.” Osuin replied back, before Helena further explained the lack of experience the two had in such thick underbrush. Despite trying, Osuin had been far from silent and the noise made as he moved was telling of his lack of experience in such terrain. Her response elicited further commentary from Master Hawthorne, who simply and redundantly stated that it was best to listen to him.

Osuin did make the effort to, the advice doled out seemed more suitable to a man of smaller profile. What clearings might be suitable for others were often a touch to narrow for him, and either slowed him considerable or made unwanted noise as he passed through.

Eironmar had kinder words however, but wisdom of how to move silent and proper through such heavily forested terrain remained elusive. But effort had to be made regardless, and Osuin made his motions slower, more continuous, and more deliberate. Not a sound was made, until a branch bent by his presence snapped back and struck his armour with a disappointing sound upon contact that signified failure.

And further, he’d lost ground and now had to catch up again.

The Knight Osuin picked up the pace again, twigs and leaves crunching beneath his stride as he caught up to the group again. Quiet, or fast; he was not yet able to be both at once. Even the former quality on it’s own continued to cause him issues.

Helena

 

[Helena]

Helena grumbled, displeased with being so out of her own element. Give her combat, action, where her steel could best her foe, be they human, goblin, orc, or beast. Not this, shrub striding. She let out a huff, her mood diminished by the shared struggle of her fellow knight of Dawn.

"Think of water, Osuin," she smiled, sharp with friendly challenge, "How it trickles and trails about the earth and swirls about the roots in the garden," they had both tended the gardens long enough as Squires, and heard more than a few of Master Brambleshell's lectures. "Loose core, bent knees, and lead your steps with your heel, so your weight falls more steadily," she went forward, noisier than the other two, but quieter than before.

Ahead, Master Hawthorne went on, like a wisp, effortless as he traversed the twists and tangles. A call came from on high, and the winged shadow disappeared, so thick was the canopy and the shadow that it cast over them. The Master of Loch came to a halt, his staff, crowned by an obsidian jewel, sharp as it drank in what little light existed in that dark. His golden eyes narrowed, and took in long full breaths of air.

Pursuant Eironmar happened upon the Master, sensed the cold pull of tainted magic, metallic and sulfuric in the air, and stilled. "Corruption," he said softly.

"You need not speak it to make it true, Eironmar, or has Hawken not taught you such?" Hawthorne quipped, and though he smiled wryly, there was little humor in his golden eyes.

Helena, twigs snapping underfoot, if only just, appeared from the brush, her hand still on her scabbard. While not as in tune with pursuits of Loch and Death, she too could feel that there was something very wrong about the clearing they had happened upon. "What," she began. "What is this place?"

The trees seamed to curl and twist and twine and fuse together, forming some sort of nest, no, some sort of cocoon more like. And while it was made with what at first glance looked to be tree branches and tree roots, a closer look would find strange tendrils of black, like veins and arteries that webbed about. Stare at them longer, and the eye would see traces of silver speckled with black, liquid, pumped through those spidery lines that pulsed, ever so.

"A place of change," Hawthorne said grimly. "Where the light dies, and the darkness is born."

---

Osuin

 

[Osuin]

Osuin was making a bit more noise at his faster pace, though he continued to tread quietly as best as he could. He honestly thought it would be easier than it was. He’d spent days working out the best means of muffling noise from his armour, and had found oil and cotton padding worked well to silence it. But there was little to silence the leaves crunched underfoot, or the twigs snapped by his passage through the thickets.

His difficulties had not gone unnoticed. Helena spoke guidance – seemingly just philosophically at first, until the wisdom in her words became clear. Namely that he’d be better off to relax and smooth his movements, which he focused on doing. He’d been walking stealthily as if he were in a field thus far, but this environment required more than a deliberate and steady step to mute the sound of travel.

Osuin put the given advice to use. It was sound, and without tension in his movements he was substantially quieter. Not entirely, dead twigs still snapped and leaves crunched beneath his feet. It was still much less noise than he was making before. Now, however, he had become so focused on his movements that he began to fall behind the others once again. Osuin worked to move as fast as he could, while still keeping as quiet as possible.

As he approached, the surroundings noticeably changed. The trees twisted into chaotic forms, if these were trees. They resembled trees, but it was clear to Osuin that there was nothing natural about it. The mere sight of it would convince even the ignorant that foul energies were at work. Osuin merely listened to Hawthorne speak, remaining stoic as he crossed the border between the forest and this place of darkness.

Helena

 

[Helena]

"We must investigate these grounds," Hawthorne said to the others, his eyes flashed silver before they returned to their eldritch gold. "Careful as you move about, knights of Dawn, these are no mere tangles and roots we will tread upon," With that, the Master of Loch stepped into the maw of the grotesque cavern structure.

Eironmar's eyes also burned bright for but a moment, and he looked back at the other two. "You remember how to see with the eyes of the Loch, yes?" He looked to Osuin, then Helena in turn. "Stay close to me, there is no telling what we will find inside such a place," he turned toward the yawning entrance and stepped through the veil of dampened air that seemed to wall about its precipice.

Helena whispered a cant beneath her breath, unable to will the magic without the words that helped her focus the energies. "Silver light of stars and moons, dance upon the pools of loch and eye alike, grant me true sight." A sheen of silver, and Helena's eyes glowed for but a blink before the light rippled away.

It required her to focus, to maintain her connection to energies of Loch, even as she stepped into the shadows of the twisted cocoon. Inside, the silver and black of the veins and and growths pulsed, traced by a silver light inside Helena's eye.

"There... There is no trace of magic," Helena said, her voice thick with disbelief.

"No," Hawthorne's voice called out from the darkness, and Helena's head turned to find him, only able to see the feint outline of his shape ahead of her some strides. He stood still, and seemed to look down at something at the center of dome. "At least not with that low level spell you are using, Knight of Dawn," he laughed, and moved from his spot. Where he had stood, Helena could only see a swirl of black. Shadows that moved like smoke, and curled about the heart of some forbidden flame.

"Osuin, do... do you see that?" She asked. "It's, it's eating the magic,"

With magicked eye, one would see a swirl of black, the trace of silver that was granted by the eyes of Loch, faded and pulled away at that point, and what magic one needed to maintain the spell was pulled with it, drained till it burned and forced Helena to look away, as if a child who'd looked too long at the sun.

---

Osuin

 

[Osuin]

Hawthorne had a warning against the unnatural nature of the roots winding over and through the earth, and the cause for caution was already rather evident. He’d noticed them nearly immediately upon approaching the area, pensive at the sight of dark magic’s evidence. But it was only that for the time being – foul nature implied by appearance, and appearance alone.

He needn’t rely on a mere assumption, fair as it was to make. Eironmar mentioned the eyes of the Loch, and for good reason; this was a situation fitting for the magic’s use. Osuin focused as he had been taught to do, closing his eyes and moving an armoured hand up in a gesture that he found helped him to do so. A sweeping motion ended with fingertips pointed towards closed eyes, ushering forth the magic that might help him see beyond what unaided eyesight had been able to.

Yet when Osuin opened his eyes, he saw nothing different about his surroundings. The spell should have been successful, he could feel the magical power being pulled for its use. That he could not see what Hawthorne referred to was confusion.

"There... There is no trace of magic," Spoke Helena, who seemed to share the same sentiment as he.

But Hawthone was quick to correct her, and with a quip against the magic they wielded. He moved from his position, and Helena offered an potential and constructive explanation for their spells failure.

"Osuin, do... do you see that?" She asked. "It's, it's eating the magic,"

“Anti-magic?” Osuin remarked in reply. It seemed rather plausible, something must have been messing with the arcane. He noted the shape and essence of the magic as best as he could, before he could look upon it no longer. The one they pursued evidently held magical counter measures.

A good thing he carried a sword, then. One way or another, the foul would be purged.

Helena

 

[Helena]

Helena steeled herself upon hearing those words. "It is likely," she uttered, and stepped closer toward the object which seemed to consume the very magic from her eyes, her eyelashes squinted as if to block out too much sun, though there was only swirling dark. It called to her, and though her instinct told her to pull away, her mind felt drawn to it, to the hard edged line that seemed to cut the essence of loch away from her. Her hand reached out, fingers outstretched.

"There is a sword at the center," Hawthorne's voice rasped out from the darkness around them. "I think you should let Osuin try and take it up, Helena, if only because he is of stouter constitution," Hawthorne grew closer, and his golden eyes burned through the shadow and dark, their ethereal gaze fixed on Helena, and caused her to recoil, to retract her hand and nod. He looked to Osuin. "Go on, Syr Osuin," he nodded. "Balance your energies, try your best to remain inert,"

Before the big knight would have the chance to reach for the blade, a rhythmic croak would come from beyond the structure of twisted growth and corruption. Its voice a low and complex string of rumbles and calls that had Hawthorne's eyes glance toward the entrance.

Still yourselves! the master of the Loch called through a telekentic pulse. To me. he commanded, and though they could not see it, he weaved his wand through that most stale air.

The sound of massive wingbeats could be heard outside. And cold gusts of air buffeted them inside the structure.

Helena made toward Master Hawthorne, her mind fed his direction though she could hardly see in that most abyssal dark. Her foot caught on a root and she fell with a thump.

---

Osuin

 

[Osuin]

He wasn’t quite sure what to make of this object that had been the source of the strange magic. Or possibly anti-magic, Osuin couldn’t be sure. But there was no doubt in his mind that whatever lay before him was supernatural, with both mundane and arcane sight in agreement to that aspect of its nature.

Beneath the obscuring smoke was a strange object, and all Osuin could make out was that it appeared narrow and metallic. While he remained still and cautious, Helena appeared a bit more daring, at least as far as Osuin knew, and reached out with a hand towards it. Hawthorne then spoke out with further knowledge about the present object of interest.

"There is a sword at the center," He announced. "I think you should let Osuin try and take it up, Helena, if only because he is of stouter constitution," Hawthorne then added, and Osuin looked to them both with resolve.

“So I shall.” he replied, keeping still for a moment to meditate and focus. The attempt would fail and focus would become broken, but not from lack of effort on Osuin’s part. The noise was truly startling, an unnatural croak belonging to a creature he could only imagine, and at a volume loud enough to imply that whatever it was already far too close for comfort.

To me.

Osuin did not hesitate to oblige the command, abandoning his efforts towards the sword and moving to Hawthorne with haste. Dreadful noises could be heard, with something large beating the air and spurring gusts of it past the entrance. These noises caused him no hesitation, but Helena’s sudden crash against the ground did.

She would not go unaided.

“Helena!” Osuin called out, immediately changing the course of his direction towards the source of the sound. An arm outstretched, he reached into the darkness towards her, between the location where she fell and the direction from which he had heard Master Hawthorne speak out.

Helena

 

[Helena]

Pain thrummed in her chest from the fall. Her spell, the vision of the loch, had all but dissipated from her eyes as the wind galed stronger and the strange cave grew colder and colder with each new buff of air.

Helena had heard Osuin, and could hear him still, his steady stride closer to her with each step. "Here!" she called out, but when she went to raise her hand, she felt it stick. Felt tendrils wrap about her wrist and cling to the sides of her fingers, making it harder to raise her hand up to reach out to him. "Osuin!" she felt her heart beat faster.

Outside the cave, another shrill cry, the sound of a great weight landing upon the ancient forest floor as branches snapped and leaves rustled as if a storm blew.

"I, the floor, it is!" she calmed herself, centered her will, burned her magic hot. A bright light burned around her, seared the tendrils and growth away to release her.

Foolish girl! Hawthorne scolded, and from behind the figure of Osuin she saw him, the Master of Loch spread his cloak like great wings that did swirl and envelope her and Osuin all at once. The three of them were together beneath the veil of his mystical cloak, and his golden eyes burned hot as forge pokers as he glared at her. I do not know what Althea sees in you, pup, but know that she will hear of this when we return. he scolded her through the mind magic.

Be still and say nothing. Master Hawthorne commanded.



From the entrance of the cave, came a clatter, bone made to click and clack, and a figure of pure white strut, long legged and careful as its burning gold eyes peered into that dark place. Its long spear of a beak opened and shut in rhythmic clatter.

I have come again it said in a voice that thrummed through the cave, most ancient and ethereal. And it panged at Helena's heart, for it was sorrowful, and with no hope.

---

Osuin

 

[Osuin]

He followed the sound, making his steady way over to Helena. He heard her call out, and he reached towards the darkness. With her hand constrained by the tendrils wrapped around it, his own found no purchase of it.

An ominous thump chilled his soul next, adding anxiety of their situation to his concern over her. A bright light overtook his vision next. Through the darkness Helena could be seen clearly again, weaving a magical spell to disperse the tendrils that threatened and constrained her.

Osuin closed the distance without delay while Hawthorne delivered yet another scolding to her. He bid them to remain still and silent, and in such a state of frightened concern, he needed no encouragement to oblige. Eyes moved about to scan the scene until a large silver beak pierced the darkness of his surroundings. And lo, it did speak.

"I have come again" It spoke, and he knew not how to reply. Bid to remain still and with Master Hawthorne carrying wisdom that Osuin himself did not, still he remained.

Meaning had yet to be delivered to him. For the time being, Osiun stood in awe.

Helena

 

[Helena]

Tall and proud was the great heron, and from its plumes poured ethereal essence that shimmered and hissed like steam from the pools of geysers and hot springs.

A great spirit of the forest. Came Master Hawthorne's voice. Why does it come to this place... he thought in all of their minds.

Helena simply stared at the luminous being, watched as it strut its long legs across the tainted earth that was the floor of the structure, and she noticed how the black tendrils seemed to burn away at its approach, hissing and popping about the light which radiated from its wide and taloned feet.

It strode toward the center of the room, but stayed some meters away from the sword which did suck and drink away at the flow of its magick. I had hoped came its great and stirring voice. That it would be gone. That this curse would be lifted.

The great spirit bowed its head low, and stretched its long neck down toward the floor. The corruption burned away, inch by inch, and it reeked of a rot most sour, of swamp mud that hid things long dead, stirred to let all the gas of decay spew out, and the strange scent that came from that gas set to blaze. Like the air had been split by green lightning.

But you are still here, my love. The heron's light waned, and its head coiled back up towards its body, and it shook its head in dismay. The great creature collapsed to the ground with a loud crash, and its light went on waning.

 

[Osuin]

Osuin was lost in awe at the creature, mouth agape with wonder. He’d no idea what had bid its presence or why, and Master Hawthorne had no answers to give, either.

Why does it come to this place... Hawthorne thought in all of their minds.

The tendrils and dark magic retreated as the majestic bird stepped forth, cast away by the warm light emanating from the being and bathing their surroundings in its protective glow. Too stunned to speak or make motion, Osuin’s eyes followed the being as it strode further within the structure, approaching the odd source of magic that had caused them all such concern. The sword seemed to leech away at the heron’s magic, seemingly more stable than the tendrils had been.

Undaunted, the heron tilted its head, and a fulguration dismissed what rotten energies had been pouring from the sword. Still musing in search for answers, the heron’s next words would leave Osuin in wonder even more.

"That it would be gone. That this curse would be lifted."

Osuin wondered exactly who was, watching as the creature coiled its neck and collapsed on the ground. Errant looks of grave concern moved between it, Helena and Master Hawthorne. As much as Osuin wished to help, he didn’t know how. This problem was not one that could be solved by simply by sword.

But perhaps this other sword was key. If Osuin had felt pressured during his first attempt to reach it, there was no word to apply describe the apprehension when he did so again with the life of a guardian spirit on the line.

His hand shook, and his arm stretched out to reach for the hilt of the sword. But then he paused, and retracted his hand.

Focus. Be ready before reaching, and bid fear away. There is naught to fear in the hands of fate whom guides us.

What is to be shall, and I am but the tool to shape it.

With worry steeled away, Osuin reached out with a slow steady cadence, before wrapping his fingers around the swords hilt.

Helena

 

[Helena]

Osuin! Came loud and hot the voice of Master Hawthorne. But it was too late. The Knight of dawn's hand had already wrapped around the sword, so plunged into the despoiled earth, and with his flesh and bone around that most mysterious relic, Osuin would feel a bolt of the arcane and most weird strike him through the dark. His body would seize stiff, and he would be frozen in time as all the world went dark around him.

When light returned to his eyes, Osuin would find himself back in the woods, trekking through the dense wilds, branch and root and mud assailing him with each step he trekked. Only, there as something else about the air. It was thicker, as if every lungful of breath came with a charge of pure magick, thick as mist, there was a haze, electric and wyrd that swirled and stretched over all.

The trees were larger. The plants fuller and greener. All the wild seemed, wilder. Raw and full of a natural force.

Should the knight of dawn, who saw and felt his body tire and trek through the wildnerness once more, try to move, he would find himself unable. He was trapped in a body, and he would feel that it was not his own.

A loud cry pierced the sky. Sharp as a spear. His eyes would look up, and the great glowing wings of the Heron sailed over. Osuin would feel his heart race, and he would see the world blur away around him, when a second cry pierced the forest, and another pair of white wings stirred above the canopy.

Black again, abyss.

The sound of steel scraping free from scabbard. Osuin would feel the blade in his hand. The black bladed sword whose edge glowed a hungry and pale green. He would see the Heron before him, rested upon a nest, beneath it, the bulk of a clutch. It rose up its spear beaked head, and its eyes burned an electric blue-almost-white.

Leave this place it would warn him. But Osuin would not leave. Osuin would feel his body bolt forward as the great heron splayed out its wings in a mighty gust that threw him back.

Black. Pitch. The sensation of drowning. Of death. Air would find his lungs again, and light, or some poor semblance of it, would return to his eye, and he would find himself back in that corrupted nest, hand gripped around the sword.

"Osuin!" Helena cried out.

 

[Osuin]

The heron collapsed, and with it his hope. Their guardian, fallen the moment they had been graced by its sacred presence. He knew not what might await him upon grasping the sword. To touch it would invite consequence to himself, to leave it could invite consequence to others. Osuin had given in to fear, and in the moment he was far more concerned for what might be the fate of all, than what might be his own. Hesitation was given consideration, but the potential consequences of allowing such magic to run amok

He had trained and steeled himself against fear. He had prepared to battle against it, to show himself brave in the face of death itself. But fear takes many forms, and this was one freshly discovered.

Time for reflection would have to wait, until the time for consequences had run their course. Despite being witness to it, he’d no idea how long the transition had taken. Concept of time was muddied, and the lingering darkness had chilled his soul. He began to worry that it might never subside, that the risk taken had been for naught. Even more, he worried about Helena and Hawthorne. That they were out of sight kept them at the forefront of his mind.

Darkness shifted, shapes and tactility returned to him. Without knowing when or why, Osuin found himself trekking through a forest for reasons that could only be felt, but not known. And it was the forest itself that seemed to be his foe, assailing his lungs with thick, heavy air. His legs fought against the mud and overgrowth winding atop it to carry him further. But motion was automatic – Osuin remained unable to move beyond the rhythmic strides that took him into the forest. Thick air and mud seemed to prevent it, and his own muscles gave no reaction to the mind’s effort to move them.

Above, the air was pierced by a sudden cry unlike any other. Osuin did not look up, he was made to look up by whatever forces were in control of the body he’d inherited. There was another cry, the heron was present again! And no sooner than it was did his world fade to black anew, whisked away from the vision in an instant.

The next thing he knew he was wielding the sword, and it thirsted for use. The heron was before him again, but to his front and not above his head. A clutch of young lay beneath it, and the blade seemed drawn to them. His body could only obey the unwilling impulse inflicted upon it. The white-hot gaze that bore through him told the same message that the heron would make verbally clear:

Leave this place

But he, or whoever’s experiences he was witnessing , would not do so. The threats went unheeded, and even as the heron flapped its wings, Osuin did not shrink away.

The last thing he recalled was rushing towards the wind in aggression towards it.

Then darkness again. Helena’s voice would be the first he’d hear, and light would return to his eyes a moment after.

“Osuin” Helena cried out, and though he heard her and his mind processed the fretful plea, he was too affected by what he just saw to give an immediate response. Opened eyes and panicked breath were the only signs that self-agency had returned. Still shaking off his recent experiences, he looked around the reality he had been returned to, as if what he had just experienced could be undone.

“The clutch, the young.”

“Gone.”

“Evil has been here.” Osuin concluded, his tone stoic, and stance trembling.

Helena

 

[Helena]

"You sunlit fool!" Hawthorne scolded, and the mantle of shadows that had hid them all from the Heron's blazing sight dissipated then into many motes of darkness, to join the swirl and swell of all that darkness that surrounded them. His eyes seared through the shadows, gold and otherworldly as they stared at the Heron, then Helena, then Osuin. Words most old left his lips in quick strings of verse, and the obsidian crystal that was the head of his staff sparked white at its core. White as a distant star.

Osuin would feel a semblence of calm. Peace. His body would feel wholly his own once more. Blood coursing through his limbs, the fibers of muscle and the sinew of tendons weaving with his bones. All set to expand and contract with each breath.

Eironmar hurried toward the larger of the two Dawn knights, and his own spell poured from his lips as he drew his sword. The magicked weapon shimmered blue then black, then white. He turned it in his palm and with a knee to the despoiled earth, he stabbed its point into the ground. The dark tendrils, so quick to regrow, to reconnect and heal, screeched and hissed at being stabbed.

"Master Hawthorne," he said between the flow of arcane lyric that flowed from him. "We must act now, less we lose this spirit to the darkness," A light, like that which burned in Hawthorne's staff, only feinter, less refined, appeared over the pommel of Eironmar's blade, blinding at first, it engulfed them all in the light of life. The knight Pursuant went on with his prayer, head bowed to the shrine that was his sword, and the corruption that sprawled about them was purged once more, if only to the edges of the light.

Hawthorne, let his words come to their close, the light of his staff dimmed, and he pulled his magick out of Osuin's coil. "Osuin, tell me, tell me what you saw!"

Helena was at a loss for words. Her eyes wide, her mouth agape. What could she do but watch?

A slither, a slick, A mass of black whipped just beyond the dome of light that Eironmar did project. She steeled herself and drew her bright blade. "There is something here in this dark, something of menace!" She called out and stood before Eironmar and Osuin, gathering her own magick into her core.

"And there will be much more, Helena, this is but the beginning," Hawthorne said gravely.

In that dark that tried to eat away the light, there curled a shapeless threat. All tendrils and bubbling mass. A thing most corrupt. An amalgamation of grudges and hate that would see, with its countless eyes that did open then and burn at the sight of those that gathered before them, that brought light into this, its place of rest, its place to grow and gather, it would see only what it sought to destroy.

A screech, unnatural, like a thousand shrieks of a thousand creatures run through by spear, sword, and arrow, with all the hate of fire eaten flesh, filled the corrupted nest.

---

Osuin

 

[Osuin]

Hawthone scolded him, and Osuin had little to say. Having taken action out of panic, he’d no idea what he’d done nor how he’d react. The impulsivity that fostered his hasty action had vanished with the growing uncertainty and seeming uncontrollability of the scene. Shadows around whim were whisked away, and from beyond them he could see the glowing eyes of Hawthorne peering at himself and others, no longer obscured by the surrounding darkness.

Everything suddenly felt calm, despite the chaos of the situation around him. He held full awareness of his body, yet no idea of what effects were unfurling around them. He saw Eironmar rush forth, weaving magic as he brought his blade from it’s scabbard to wield it against whatever threat might come. He ultimately plunged the sword into the earth, and the arcane effect that sprang forth struck the massing tendrils with visible pain.

Hawthorne pulled his magic, and posed an urgent question upon doing so.

"Osuin, tell me, tell me what you saw!" He asked of him. Osuin stilled for a moment as mind raced to piece together all that had been revealed in his vision, before uttering his best recollection at a rapid pace.

“I found myself in dense woodland, far more overgrown than it ought to be. Air was thick like water, saturated with a strange arcane energy I couldn’t discern... Motions I made were involuntary. I could only look up and watch as the great heron called out with a loud cry. It was then that all swirled into darkness.

I could not see, but I could feel my weapon being drawn and brandished. Then I could see the Heron upon a full nest, demanding I depart. But I did not do so on my own; I rushed forward. It was a blast of wind that threw me back into the darkness.” Osuin replied, pausing for a moment to ensure he’d communicated all that could be relevant.

“That was the last thing I saw!” he concluded. Now free, his hand returned to his own weapon. He did not know what he would need to do, but it was clear that he ought to be ready to face it. Helena would speak the first hint of what it was.

"There is something here in this dark, something of menace!" She called out.

"And there will be much more, Helena, this is but the beginning," Hawthorne replied, filling Osuin with a sense of dread. Whatever he had done, the consequences were nigh upon them now. He turned to face the threat, paused in awe at the chaotic mass of tendrils and eyes, and the horrifying, malevolent screech the thing emitted.

He gripped his sword tighter, hesitant to make a hasty reaction as he had before, but prepared to do what he must. He had seemingly and unwittingly ushered it forth, and now he would have to face it.

Helena

 

[Helena]

"A vision," Master Hawthorne spoke the words as if they were cursed. "The sword granted you sight beyond sight," the old man muttered, his golden eyes burning against the dark as his energies swirled about his staff, he rose a hand near his center, at the base of his stomach, and his fingers gestured in synch with snaps of his wrist. I will cleanse the sword, but you and Helena,"

The creature shrieked anew and let thrust one of its tangles of shadow and ether made flesh. A sword, wreathed in sacred golden light flashed up. Cleaved the arm in two, and the sharpened barb of darkness fell to the earth, there in that shell of Eironmar's light.

Hawthorne closed his eyes and walked over to the blade. "This place," Hawthorne let out, though his eyes remained sealed. " Knights of Dawn! You must defend this ground we stand upon!"

From the bleeding edge of her sight, Helena could see the countless eyes, just outside the cascading veil of Eironmar's spell. They crept toward the heron, who still lay upon the ground, breathing ragged breaths. She grit her teeth, and made to move when another arm shot out from the opposite direction. Aimed for Hawthorne.

"Oh wild spirits, hear my plea," she began, as she sprang forward. "Let the speed of the elk and the strength of the bear course through me!" A surge of green strength coursed through her limbs, her muscles swelled with blood and newfound brawn, and she bolt faster, sword swung up in a savage arc of dawn fire gold.

Another tendril maimed. But the eyes, now turned to squat and humanoid fiends, with grubby hands and no head, but one massive oculus as their torso and shadowy limbs that blurred like smoke and clutched long splinters of hate that were shaped like spears. Those eyes crept toward the heron of white. One screeched high and wild and thrust at the great spirit with its spear.

The Heron raised its head and trumpeted in agony. One of its massive wings thrashed out and knocked the small gremlin away. But red stained its feathers, and a black ooze leaked from the wound. More mono-eyed gremlins approached, eyes alit with a gleeful malice.

---

Osuin

 

[Osuin]

"The sword granted you sight beyond sight," Spoke Master Hawthorne, and the wise words of the elder confirmed that what he had experienced was not a mere hallucination. With trust in what he saw and his purpose here, Osuin now further held hope. Any action he could take to undo the foul energies infecting the heron and this place would be made without any hesitation.

"Knights of Dawn! You must defend this ground we stand upon!" Hawthorne bellowed, and Osuin took a battle stance to accomplish exactly that. A tendril shot out at him in aggression, only to be cleaved by the swing of a golden blade. Many more surrounded them all, with eyes all leering at the heron with malice. Helena maimed another, empowering herself through magic to become a fighting force of ferocity against their foes.

For he was a Knight of Anathaeum, and the time for battle had come. With Helena, Hawthorne and Eironmar at his side, he would slaughter the foul menace before them. Placing his sword tip down atop the ground, Osuin began to recite an incantation.

Grant me awareness and perception,
Give me knowledge of my foes
And grace give guidance to my blade

Osuin channeled the magical energies, weaving them into a potent spell that invigorated his body and mind. Any motion made by others nearby became known to him, with awareness of all around him placed into his mind’s eye. The moment was opportunity for further trouble to befall them, but also opportunity Osuin might seize to prevent or reverse the events ushered forth by touching the blade. Even still, he retained uncertainties about what he had done, but there was no doubt in his mind that now was the time to fight.

He had to defend the heron. Many foes poured in from the darkness in all directions and despite their number, Osuin knew the location of all. Eyes had become vile beings, all of whom oriented themselves towards the agonized Heron. He faced off against one with a lunging swing of his sword. He managed to cleave the head clear off its shoulders before stepping past its fallen body to plunge his sword into another behind it.

Though he had quickly slain two, sudden unease overtook him as another plunged his spear into the heron. A beating of its wing forced away the assailant, but still the wound remained and bled. Osuin stepped forth in an instant to place himself between the great bird and the foe it had freshly knocked away. With his shield up to defend both himself and the Heron, the heavy knight thrust his weapon in the direction of the one-eyed gremlins, felling one after another while more rushed forth to replace the fallen.

“I can hold them back, but not forever!” Osuin shouted as he slew one after another. Despite the odds and numbers, he still held his position, through he could certainly not defend the heron on his own.

Truly, he would fight to the death if he had to. Yet with the finest allies he could ask for at his side, he held trust that such an end could not be his.

Helena

 

[Helena]

One eyed and feisty, the gremlins hopped and shook in the shadow that swirled about the edges of Eironmar's magic, none more dissuade for the death of a few of their fellows. In fact, they teased the Knight of Dawn, the single red blur that was the pupil of their eye gleeful and mischievous as they slapped their bottoms and gestured fearlessly. One lashed out at Osuin, then a second attacked where the other did not. They aimed for the limbs, sought to wound and maim and hobble. Aimed for the spots where the armor was weakest.

Helena gripped her sword tighter, wanted to go and aid her companion, but to leave Eironmar and Master Hawthorne without a shield, that would be the end of it.

Still. She had to help Osuin. A new tendril whipped out from the ebbing abyss, whip quick, then a second, and a third. Helena's sword blazed red then white, with all the heat of a forge flame. Runes of flame blazed bright as the morning's light upon the run of her weapon, and she swept her sword strong and sure, the blade, so wreathed in sun fire, hung above her head for half a breath, and she brought it down as the tendrils raced forward.

A thin ray of light, like a long reed of grass, sliced out from the edge of Helena's sword. Passed through the tendrils of shadow, and through the dome of light and into the mass of starless pitch, of gnashing mouths and countless eyes. That line, so bright and hot and pure, bubbled as the inky mass of corrupt life poured into it. Tried as it did to snuff it out, Burry it. Rob it of all its burning heat. It all sizzled away. In a flash, the thin thread of harnessed flame magic expanded out from where it had imbedded. A violent expansion of heat and power that ripped and detonated through whatever it had touched.

Horrid was the screech of enemy. Worse was the putrid smell. Hair and bone and waste and flesh, like pig, like beast, like man, all set to fire, filled the air as the thing wailed with all the voices it had amassed across the ages.

Helena took it all in. The air around her was like an oven. Dry and full of heat. A full breath of hot air filled her lungs, though her arms felt heavy, and her legs trembled as they held her up. She raised her sword, its blade steaming away what little moisture still remained in the nest. Sweat ran down her brow, and her eyes blurred. Still, she brought her sword down to her chest, placed one palm near its base and began a new chant.

The creature of shadows slowly, painfully, stitched itself back together, in bubbles and oozes and tendons and strings.

---

Osuin

 

[Osuin]

He could not see those gremlins behind him. Though thanks to the spell invoked, Osuin remained aware of their location and numbers. Yet there were many, and awareness did little when the enemy was present in too great a number to track. As more arrived, Osuin was fighting an increasingly uphill battle, seemingly slaying one for each two who joined. Many were to his front, and far too many were behind him.

Determined to maintain the fight, he spun around to his rear with blade swinging widely. The blade cleaved through the thing, but another struck at the back of his knee, sending his leg forward and toppling the bulky knight. As he tumbled however, the Knight Pursuant managed to turn over and smash one of the little gremlins with his forearm, using his weight and inertia of his fall to crush the thing between the ground and his steel vambrace. A sharp pain shot through his body next from the bite of a dagger that slipped beneath plates of armor. The point pierced the flesh of his arm, and a steel-plated fist met the face of the gremlin who had placed it there.

Another grasped his wrist, but Osuin managed to swing his arm and smash the thing against the ground while many of the wretched one-eyed creatures amassed before him, directly in the path of Helena’s summoned red ray of light. Bodies of the wretched were cleaved in two, ichor and bile splattering about upon being cut free from the ugly bodies that had been their container. The resulting stench was putrid and nauseating. As foul in appearance as the gremlins were, their stench was even more so.

With most of the gremlins still reeling from the sudden and vicious attack, Osuin could now handle the remainder with greater freedom. One was smashed between the ground and downward swing of his clenched fist before he threw another that had grappled onto his shoulder. He then reached to reclaim his sword from the ground shortly after, and with a wide sweep of his blade several more were dispatched as well. With control of the battle regained, Osuin rose to his feet once more in a battle stance and faced down the massing amalgamation of slain gremlins and severed tendrils.

With a focused mind and a new chant uttered under breath, his blade began to glow with the magic summoned into it. Now joined together to form a singular entity, Osuin sought his chance to inflict the greatest damage he could upon it. But so too was it determined to remain victorious against the knight – a snap of a tendril shot out to interrupt, latching onto his shield. Unfazed, he remained determined in his goal to cleanse Arethil of this corruption. By the time another tendril had followed up with another attack, Osuin was plunging his brightly glowing blade forward with all his might into the sickening mass of shifting black ooze. Smoke and steam would emanate from what wound he inflicted, should the blade successfully find purchase in the foul creature’s body.

It was with every ounce of focus and strength he held, that Osuin strove to make this outcome so.

Helena

 

[Helena]

Like a hot knife through a hunk of cold tallow, Osuin cut through the creature, the blade of his sword dug in, deeper and deeper with the weight of the Dawnling behind it. But writhe and screech as the monster did, there seemed to be no end to it. Its ink colored mass roiled and swirled beneath a cloud of putrid steam, and it was caught between being burned away and trying to stitch itself back together. Its arms slammed against the knight, slithered around and enveloped him. Even as he cut through its core, its mass still tried to crush him.

Helena fixed her eyes on her fellow Dawnling, being swallowed up by the dark as he was, she raised her sword up and out with a sweep as golden light poured across her and focused on the blade of her weapon, its timeless runes shown brilliantly. "Grant my kin the gift of dawn, grant for them the shield of light!" She cried out, and across the full run of her sword shimmered the light of star fire, up until it glimmered and glittered at its zenith, the raised point of her blade. A beam flashed out, pierced the body of writhing shadows, and engulfed Syr Osuin.

What magick he had lost would feel renewed, what fatigue he felt would be burned away as his muscles found true strength and his weapon dug further still into the heart of the corruption. Greater were the gouts of steaming filth, faster did the monster burn away.

It shrieked, a shatter of sound that broke all around them, and before his sword could cleave its heart, the inky mass of cursed flesh gathered itself up and pushed itself away, as if it were a weightless octopus, and the lightless space its sea.

Osuin stood triumphant, radiant, as the creature fled. Helena pant, heavy breaths. She fell to her knees.

There will be more. Warned Master Hawthorne. His eyes sealed shut as his energies spiraled about the eye of the storm. The cursed sword.

Eironmar let out a long breath, and the shield of light fell around them. "I... must rest a moment," he said, the exhaustion of his feat clear in his tone. And the warmth of life's light grew dimmer in that dark place.

Helena closed her eyes and gestured with her hands, seals and runes formed with fingers and snaps of the wrist. A small, feint orb illuminated above her, and there was light there once more, however faint against the press of the void.

At the edges of their battle, where Eironmar's spell had traced a line, the corruption slowly, ever so, began to spread back toward the center. Back to claim the sword once again.

I need more time, the ritual is almost complete. Hawthorne said through their minds.

From the woods, so twisted and tangled outside, came the cries of many creature. Distorted. Other. None sounded beyond the twisted pull of what they faced.

"There is such pungent hatred in this place," Helena said, in disbelief. "What... what could have caused this?" She asked her fellow knights.

Hawthorne said nothing. Too deep in his meditation.

Eironmar shook his head. "It is the legacy of man, the festering wounds still healing from those ancient wars between mortal and the spirits of the True Vale."

Helena clenched her fist, stood defiantly, and moved toward Osuin. "Are you alright?" she asked, glad they had won at least a small respite.

 

[Osuin]

As the thing massed around him, Syr Osuin pressed on. Steam spewed forth and tendrils assailed him, but his blade dug deeper into the monster with the empowerment of his invoked magic flowing within it. Even as it’s numerous arms surrounded him and stressed his armour with audible metallic groans, he still pressed forth with the attack.

Invigorated by Helena’s spell, soreness was banished from his muscles and might was renewed for the ongoing battle. Blade dug deeper, and bid forth a howl of pain. The creature’s shriek was foul, yet that he had brought pain to the wicked being filled Osuin with hope He wrenched the sword held in his vice-like grasp, digging into the core of the beast. The thing dispersed, and the knight abruptly found himself plunging his sword into nothing as it made its rapid retreat. By his might and Helena’s magic, Osuin emerged victorious against the foul, many-armed monstrosity.

The comfort of victory would be short lived. Master Hawthorne was the one to quash it:

There will be more.

It was truth, unwelcome as it was. Matters could not possibly be so easy, given the power and sights he had witnessed. But Osuin signed up for no easy task, and remained determined to see it to its end.

“Whatever is required, I stand ready.” Osuin replied, with stoic determination carried in his voice. He had reached for the sword, and had been an unwitting agent in bring the very situation that threatened them and the heron forth. In doing so, he made a commitment to bring and end to this evil and no rest could be had until true and final defeat had been delivered unto it.

"I... must rest a moment," Eironmar spoke, and promptly did as he said he would. Osuin had given him no notice, with the more pressing matter of the monster receiving his complete attention. He needn’t witness his work to know its effectiveness, and that Osuin could continue to fight with such aggression had been largely due to the protection Eironmar wove. It was with trust in his comrades and support of them that he had emerged victorious, if even for a fleeting moment.

Helena worked further magic, bathing all in dim light. Faint, but enough light was cast that the corruption closing in could be seen, threatening to envelop both them and the sword.

Words of wisdom were placed in his mind by Master Hawthorne:

I need more time, the ritual is almost complete.

An objective that Osuin could undertake. He readied himself in a battle stance with shield held out, prepared to cut down what further foes arrived with ferocity.

"There is such pungent hatred in this place. What... what could have caused this?" Helena asked. Eironmar mentioned old woulds of ancient wars, but Osuin could not shake what he saw. The baleful look of the heron, and the actions of malice taken against it. There must be more to it than that.

“Someone must have been here. Someone must have summoned this wretched evil forth.” Posited Osiun. The notion was infuriating, but Osuin would not give himself to rage, but temper his determination to right the wrongs inflicted upon the heron.

Helena approached him next.

"Are you alright?" She asked.

“Shaken, but unharmed. My armour’s gotten bit tighter though” He remarked, though the crushing force of the monster had bent and warped the suit of armour. Metal creaked and groaned as he moved. Damaged and stiffened, but still suitable protection.

“May we put and end to this evil.” Osuin added, prepared to do exactly that.

Helena

 

[Helena]

"Were that my spell more potent," Helena looked over the damage that Osuin had incurred. Thought of the darkness that had swallowed him whole. She stepped closer still to Osuin. What if she had lost him then? Her friend, her companion of so many years. The knight she had known as but an angry young man, brought from the wider world. Scowl ever-present upon his face, brows ever pinched and eyes steely. "Or that I was more learned in the pursuits of the flame," she smiled, and showed some tenderness, a feeling raw and red and stinging. "I'd be able to mend your armor, here and now," she mused aloud, her eyes tracing the crumples in the steel. The points where armor had given way to the dark.

Was she prepared to make such a sacrifice? To lose Syr Osuin? What of Syr Eironmar, and Master Hawthorne?

No. She could not say that she was. Who could truly say they were prepared for such a dark happening? But she would press on all the same. She forced a brave look upon her face, a flit of fire that shined across her eyes to do away with the cold shadows of unseen paths.

"Agreed," the young knight pursuant added her voice to Osuin's unshaking resolve, her hand gripped tight about the hilt of her weapon. "We will see this through, no matter the cost,"

How ready they were, some part of her thought, to lay their lives down for this quest. For the wilds and all the small folk who lived there in. Did they truly care for the teachings of the order? To stand against the evils of the world, to face the dark with palm and blade, the light of day and the light of night?

While inside, her mind roiled with questions, her heart raced, and her face remained stoic, still. A mask of certainty. Confidence. Steady as a tree with deep and well spread roots.

If she were to die here, on this day. Would her life have been one worth living? A knight of Anathaeum. A Pursuant of Dawn. Had she done enough in her time?

Calm, young ones, Came the voice of Hawthorne through their mind. Think not that I would have you stand before odds that would be your doom. He assured. Stand firm, trust in the Dusk so that we may see the new Dawn.

Helena nodded. Looked to Osuin once more, bathed in the warm glow of the emberlight she had called forth.

A jolt from the corner of her eye. Like a whip cracked forth, a black tendril lashed out from the webs of pitch colored growth, wrapped around Osuin's wrist, and pulled at the big man.

Sword already gripped, Helena swiped out. Cut at the tendril free from the big knight. "No! Get back!" She shouted through gritted teeth. Another lash of tar shot from the encroaching corruption, wrapped around Osuin's sword, and pulled it free from his hand. Another slithered about his feet, searching.

With a rush of air, Helena drew breath deep into her lungs. Stoked the fires of her magical energies and felt the blood in her veins run hot. Her sword came alive with fire, burned away the dark things as she yanked it free, but as she moved to bring the sword down once more, the tendrils snatched at her arm, yanked her by the elbow and pulled her to the ground.

Eironmar rose from his knelt position, and he cast his eyes up to the ceiling. There too he saw the corrpution pooling, into some horrid growth. He grit his teeth, cast his hand up, and a silver shroud gleamed above him. A spear of darkness fell from above and clashed against the shield of loch light.

The Sword, Osuin. Hawthorne's psychic voice commanded, though his posture was still locked, and his mana still poured from him, a ceaseless current. Take it!

 

[Osuin]

"Were that my spell more potent," Remarked Helena, causing Osuin to pause with a look of concerned sympathy. Had it not been for her, he might well have battled to his death. Faith in her had given him the courage to continue the fight, and he doubted he could have done so as fiercely without her aid.

"Or that I was more learned in the pursuits of the flame, I'd be able to mend your armor, here and now," She added shortly after. Though it had crumpled in places and strained in others, it had withstood the crushing attack meant to end his life. Osuin was grateful for the magic that had aided him in delivering the attack that had struck their foe down. Nor was it lost on him that these events may well have been triggered by his attempt to retrieve the sword.

“Were I not so impulsive, we might have fought that battle on better terms. And were you less learned, I‘d surely not have emerged victorious.” Came Osuin’s reply, steadfast in faith of her support. Were it not for the Knights of Anathaeum taking in a wayward youth that fateful day, he would surely not be the brave warrior who had stood tall in the face of evil on this one. They had given hope to him when he held it not, and had forged a fine warrior from a once temperamental youth. Every battle, every experience held an opportunity to learn, and Osuin remembered well the stinging pessimism that so often accompanied anything beneath a complete success.

He too had felt it in the stinging uncertainty of his hasty attempt to draw the sword, had worried that his miscalculated action had enabled destruction of those he held most dear. Mistakes can be costly, and while he still could not agree that Helena had made one he could certainly empathize with her sentiment.

But she would respond to his words with her own of resolve, every bit the Helena he knew her to be.

"We will see this through, no matter the cost,"

“Whatever we face, we do so together.” Osuin agreed, sharing a look of trust and conviction with her.

It was broken by the sudden strike of a tendril against his wrist. He found himself ensnared before he could do much about it, and even with his might could not pull back against the beast it belonged to. Osuin continued to pull back with all his might, while he drew his sword from his scabbard with his unrestrained arm.

But before he could bring the blade down against the tendril, another wrenched it free from his grasp. Unarmed, and with more tentacles creeping towards his feet, he could only rely on Helena to cut him free with her sword ablaze. Yet so busy in the effort was she, that she was caught by the tendrils herself and cast to the ground.

“Helena!” He cried out after her, but there was little aid he could provide. Tendrils continued to approach, and the corruption of the place began to grow again. It was not until he was bid by a telepathic message that he knew which action to take.

The Sword, Osuin.Take it!
​

With Master Hawthorne's instruction quelling his apprehension about the sword, Osuin reached out and grasped for it a second time. His mind remained as clear and focused as it could be under the chaotic circumstances. Carefully but quickly, Osuin pressed his palm of his one free hand to the handle of the sword and wrapped his fingers around it.

Time was a diminishing resource. With his hand clasped tight on the sword, Osuin pulled up to free it, while braced for what effect it may have upon him this time.

One that would hopefully aid in ending this corruption.

Helena

 

[Helena]

Once more the knight of Dawn would grasp at that blade most wicked. Once more he would feel the world come to stop. The sounds in his ear a roar of constant repetition. Not the silence of nothing. But the roar of the endless ripples of time which bounced and crashed, refracted and crossed, kaleidoscopic in their webs and patterns of flow.

Once more he would be there. In the body of another. The sword, toothed and jagged and dark with a blade most vorpal, a blade that seemed to drink in the very light around it, if ever so, while its run glowed a stainless white. At his feet lay a great heron. Larger than any horse, with wings as illustrious and pure as sunlight bounced across snow covered peaks. Its long and serpentine neck was strewn about the floor. Its head, apart from its freshly made corpse.

Its eye, large and still burning white, stared at Osuin, and its body still heaved its last sorry breaths.

A curse...

Said a voice most powerful.

A curse upon ye and your greed, foul creature.

Your hand would tremble. Fear would strike deep in your heart as your eyes darted from the headless heron to the nest which its body still spread so selflessly across. Its eggs, their shells still gleamed. And all the world was dark around the edges of your eyes.

But your will, if only for a moment. Was your own.

Osuin