Open Chronicles Fallen From Grace

[Kiana]

Kiana trembles, shaking with fear and adrenaline. Her wings, unfurled out, feathers and blood leaving a trail to her. She feels the arrow press deeper into her back as her wings move the projectile along with the scratches and deep cuts she obtained from her crash landing stinging as sweat, grime and dirt mixed with blood.
She hears one of them shout from a distance,
"Find the slave, she could not have gotten that far!"

The half Avariel whimpers quietly, tears threatening to spills over. No, she must not make any noise.
Kiana's breathing is erratic, heavy, but as quiet as possible. Her silver blue eyes now red with the energy from her blood coursing through her, are wide with fear. Kiana could not fly away. She felt vulnerable. Scared. Trapped like a sheep against a pack of wolves.

There was a noise, something coming closer. Kiana quickly turns around, letting out a small feral growl, her heart beating out of her chest. Kiana's shaking hands twitch from the effort as she draws upon her cyromagic. The air becomes slightly cooler as the shards form around her and point towards the entrance. If anything moves within her sight, they will meet her shards.

 

[Eren'thiel Xyrdithas]

"Find the slave, she could not have gotten that far!"

Quiet feet almost floated across the ground - nearly noiseless. His body was low, and his speed was great. His hands found their place: the hilt of a sword, one on either hip. He spotted them - their number was three, but surely there were more elsewhere nearby. All the more need for his haste.

"Whats tha-"
​

And abrupt crumpling could be heard. Then, one blood curdling shout, followed by a brief song of steel before another one fell, and it again became silent.

Quiet for a moment.

Then the sound of his swords sliding against steel rang out, and the clicked nicely into their sheath. Then, he started toward her - he could feel her presence, his awareness acute, his familiarity with Avariels quite detailed. But there was no way to know how they - for he knew not who it was - would react to his presence. But he moved cautiously, courteously even - but he did so quietly. If there were more foes nearby then he preferred not to risk allerting them any more than he already had of his presence, or their where abouts.

He did however, whisper out in his elven speech, "fear not, I am a friend."

He could only assume that if she heard him, then she would understand.

 

[Kiana]

Hearing the sound of a pained shout and steel was enough for Kiana to go fully on the defensive. There was someone definitely out there. The noise drew closer, from the sounds of the steps there is only one.
Her stance changed as she was about to fling one of her shards directly towards the person, but at the last second he says something.
'Fear not, I am a friend."
Her reflexes quickly rotated the shard away from the target, instead making it smash into the ground. Still, she kept her remaining shards up. Her eyes loosing some of their red hue. In elvish she gave a threatening tone, growling she replied,
"Do not come any closer! If you make any sudden moves I will not hesitate to end you here and now."
Kiana was not as fluent in elven as she was before her time as a slave but, the ex slave recalled enough.
Kiana swallows back her anxiety, looking down at the ground for split second. Kiana has to appear stronger than she felt. If this man was telling the truth and is an ally Kiana cannot miss this opportunity. She needed help. However, if he is lying then Kiana could not give away her weakened state. Taking a deep breathe, her hardened gaze met the man before her. "How do I know you are not lying?"

 

[Eren'thiel Xyrdithas]

The sound split the air, and percieving that he need not react here merely froze still as the shard of ice found purchase just few paces ahead of him. He held his hands out passively at his sides, keeping them visible to her. He'd worn a cloak earlier, but undid it to deal with the handful of troublemakers - and just as well he didn't fetch it, allowing for his figure and intent to be quite plainly displayed. A sword on either hip, armour up his left arm, and a leather tunic over thin, elven chainmail. He bore the garb of a weathered traveler, not a slaver.

"Do not come any closer! If you make any sudden moves I will not hesitate to end you here and now."

He betrayed little reaction, other than staying the step he just almost took. Her dialect may have been broken, but paired with her tone he understood well enough. He softened his posture some, but surrendered no amount of poise. It was quite plain for him to see the distress that this person was in - and knowing how... some people saw Avariels as nothing more than monsters, or some other aspect of one's twisted aspiration. The things Caliane had told him found themselves now once more very present upon his mind.

"How do I know you are not lying?"

His eyes met hers, challenging her stare with his own. There was strength in her, a furious defiance - but he could see it was masked over something else. Pain. His eyes lazily dropped to the ground, and then slowly rose to hers again.

"You're injured," he observed.

 

[Kiana]

Kiana felt no need to deny the obvious. Her eyes gaze over his armor, his stance, his facial expression, anything to indicate any type of danger, but alas, she finds none. There was no slaver mark of any kind but instead, he wore the clothes of a simple man. His poise was relaxed, calm, passive, and his pace was slow when he moved.

Kiana senses no danger but still has no trust. The last of her energy is quickly fading with each passing second. The red in her eyes fade away revealing the cooler hues of color. “S-slavers. They wanted to take me back to my masters.” Her voice is quiet. “I didn’t want to go back. I couldn’t.” Kiana moves her wings, shifting them slightly with a grimace. “So, I put up a fight and ended up in this stupid situation.”

The ice shards that were summoned dropped suddenly one by one, hitting the ground they shattered like glass. All except one. The one that was remaining started to melt with the last of her mana. The droplets quietly hit the ground.

 

[Eren'thiel Xyrdithas]

And one by one, the conjurings of her cryomagic fell passively to the ground, leaving only one in her hand. He relaxed even more, keeping his hands visible and approached, just one step for now. He searched her for any other injury he could see, or any other weaponry a possible danger to him. He saw none, and nodded along as she told him of her strife.

It saddened him. He'd grown quite fond of the Avariel people, and seeing this one injured, lost, and scared in such a way tore at his heart. In the honour of Caliane, he would ensure this one's safety if he could.

"I am Erën," he took one more, considerate step, "and I will not allow any more harm to befall you."

He remained cautious, and abstained from stepping much closer with the wounded winged one's blessing.

Kiana ​

 

[Kiana]

All that Kiana can do is nod when she learns Erën was his name. Kiana allows the remaining shard to fall with the others. The avariel feels her knees buckle underneath, her wings drooped touching the dirty ground. She made it. This nightmare was over.
Her facade fell, the tears she's been holding back are now rolling down her cheeks but she gives away no sounds of pain, grief.
Kiana allows Erën to approach, not moving from her spot.
She looks at the ground in submission no longer daring to meet his stare. Kiana instinctively flinches at each step he makes but otherwise remained completely still.

 

[Eren'thiel Xyrdithas]

He sighed a long sigh, dropping his tension as she too seemed to relax - surrendering to the offered help. Though it was a relief she did so without much more reluctance, it did darken his features. But, he was glad it was he who had been the one to come to her aid, and not some other passerby, perhaps just as bad if not worse than those who had already sought to restrain her.

He would have no such compulsion. Despite the trouble he had seen of late, he would not lay down his creed of righteousness, not ever, and certainly not now. Though he was urged to work quickly, he percieved the broken state of her spirit: her head hung low, the defiance in her eyes lowering with it. The tears that silently dropped. Her wincing as he drew near.

He approached, and as he came close he offered a kind hand - not so forceful as to push his intent to help upon her with any dominance.

"Allow me to help,"

He was no healer, but he could remove the arrow and dress her wound. At least well enough to get her away from this place. He displayed the feather entwined in his hair - one of an Avariel, declaring him friend. He could only assume she knew this custom - though she looked young he could not say just how much so, or for how long she had spent in captivity.

"...I am a friend."

 

[Kiana]

Kiana looked at the offered hand before her then back at Erën. There is a feather was entangled into his hair.

Kiana remembers that her mother told her about the custom. Mother was very fond of the avariel's customs and culture having learned most of them from her father. Mother always felt it was important for Kiana to learn about these traditions. It was some sort of remembrance of her father but still, the concept was still the same. Her mother wore her father's feather every day and even gave Kiana her own feather until she lost it when becoming a slave.

The elf before her was a friend. He was not one for ill intentions. He was here to truly help.
After a few moments, Kiana wipes away her tears and ignores her instinct. She reaches out with a shaking hand, grasping his hand with her smaller one.

 

[Eren'thiel Xyrdithas]

There was an invisible relief that washed over him when she took his hand. She trusted him, and so she would allow him the chance to help her. He let her ease to his touch for a moment, then he led her from where she was to sit with her back in better light, and he examined the wound, all the while tearing strips from his shirt in preparation.

The shaft of the arrow was splintered, but not yet broken. He would need to be very careful to do this as painlessly as possible - so he grabbed the hilt of his knife. He paused.

"I need to draw my knife. The arrow is... damaged."

He waited a moment for her to acknowledge this, so the sound of its slow draw would not agitate her tension. Then, he knelt, and carefully grabbed a hold of the arrow, and brought the knife close to the wound, resting blunt steel against her to alert her of its whereabouts.

"I may need to..." he trailed off, deeming it unwise to reveal much detail, "... this. Is going to hurt."

Then, slowly at first, he pulled. The arrow pulled back some, and blood dripped out from around it. He winced, feeling the weakness of it - its threatening to snap. He saw its barb pull against her skin, and at that moment in a very decisive action he ran his knife out from the wound and pulled the arrow, head and all, through the enlarged puncture.

He threw the arrow aside, set down the knife, and hurriedly went to cover the wound with the cloth he had innovated from the lower portion of his shirt.

Kiana ​

 

[Kiana]

Kiana tried not to cry out as the arrowhead was dug out of her body. She bit her finger letting out a low groan. It hurts like hell! Her back felt like it was on fire, her wings where twitching with the pain. The knife continued to moved around the head of the arrow, in her wound. Sweat began to form from the effort of not struggling while her aid does his work. The feeling warm blood dripping down her back make her shivers.
By the gods just make it stop!
Kiana let out a painful yelp, covering her mouth. A sharp tug was followed by a stinging sensation. The sound of the arrow hitting the ground echoed the cave. She feels Erën apply pressure to the most likely now gaping would.
Her back still hurts like hell but it sure felt better not having the arrow moving around causing more damage. "Thank you." Kiana whispered.

 

[Eren'thiel Xyrdithas]

He pressed firmly against the wound, but not so hard as to topple her over. The cloth did quickly begin to drench, but not so fast as to warn him of a severe bleeding. He nodded gently to himself, letting a weary sigh slip as he swapped the cloth for more. As he did, he examined her injury. Its bleeding slowed, and began to well before threatening to drip. Then he applied his hand again.

"I can wrap your wound for now... but we must get you away from here. It will need to be properly cleaned,"

He didn't trust slavers to bolster the most pristine equipment. Who knew what invisible troubles they dragged around with them so thoughtlessly. And her, likely very weak, would be hard pressed to stave off infection for long he imagined. Then there would be little help without a true healer.

He tore a long strip off his shirt, and used it to bind the wad he'd set against her - careful to do so cordially. As he did, he asked, "can you walk?"

Kiana ​

 

[Kiana]

She feels Erën keep on applying pressure to her wound, quickly changing the makeshift gauze as it is drenched with her blood. She turns her face to the side and out of the corner of her sight she sees a tiny pile of bloodied cloth.

Eventually, the cloth changing becomes less and less as her body begins to clot the gapping area. Erën applied one more wad before mention wrapping the wound and getting out of the area. All she can do is let out a hum, signaling she heard him. Kiana waits quietly as she hears Erën tear up more of his clothes. When he begins to wrap the wad in place she does her best to help him. Her movements are slow, cautious even and with one final tug, the last of the dressing was applied.

When asked if she can walk Kiana does not even dare to try. She could feel herself giving in to exhaustion as the adrenaline that was coursing through her faded back to nothing. Her body was at its limit. The aches and pains were quickly making themselves known through her entire body. Kiana shakes her head.
"No, sir. I am sorry, sir.".

 

[Nathanael McCallister]

“You know... for an out of control lycan you really were easy to kill.” Nate mumbles as he walks along the earth holding a werewolf head that was hanging from a chain behind his back. The lycan yawns having just completed a hunt for an out of control one.

Poor stinker.

Took him out after sending some wolfsbane his way in the form of a water vapor. Then while its lungs were irritated and it was gasping for breath he tore out its heart with his silver knife and then cut off its head. Nate needed it for coin after all! And coin meant drink and a nice place to crash for the night!

Blood!

He’d pause as the salty and metallic scent of blood (other than the lycan’s) hit his nose. No... it smelt more elven and human. He’d sigh and listen to the breeze hearing elvish and hearing whimpering. Something got hurt. He decided to approach the smell of blood, with the lycan head in hand.

As he approached he drew his silver sword as he did, seeing the men on the fround and a winged elf being tended to by another elf.

“Was it you who did this?” He asks with a rough voice, one that seen so much in his time on this earth. The way he carried himself also spoke that, as if he had seen a thousand wars and experienced so much.

 

[Eren'thiel Xyrdithas]

At first, over the sound of his work with Kiana, he could not hear the approach of another. He afforded quite a bit of attention to ensuring his new acquaintance would at least keep from bleeding, a momentary lapse allowed the newcomer to encroach upon their position with much notice.

But as he declared himself present with his question, he almost leapt to his feet as he bolted to his feet, away from the Avariel, and whirled around to draw his preferred sword - glimmering with several colours streaked down its length even in this pale light.

He crossed one foot behind, and stepped, his sword pointed out toward the man, "slavers," he said, fluent common coming freely from him, "their fate was decided long ago."

Kiana Nathanael McCallister ​

 

[Kiana]

Kiana stiffens at the sound of another sword being drawn right behind them.
Danger.
Her wings fluff up as a response to the possible threat. She feels Erën retreat from her a few paces back and draws his own sword. Kiana turns around to the newcomer and the elf. Erën explains what happened in a brief sentence, nodding in agreement with Erën. She would hate to be the reason he gets injured. "I-it's true, Erën was helping tend to my injuries and get me to a healer, sir." Kiana was more comfortable with common. She did not stumble over syllables as she did with elvish. Her eyes looked at the human and then back at Erën. The air was tense and heavy with anticipation.

 

[Nathanael McCallister]

Nate looks them up and down, the male elf's scent smelt familiar to him. He smelt remnants of it in the Gilded Vale.

"I've smelt you around the Gilded Vale." He looks at the elf, "You and your friends caused quite a ruckus when you guys returned from your previous venture. By that I mean that armored fellow falling down the stairs on Willis." He gives a bored look and sheaths his sword, "I'm Nathanael McCallister." He gives them both a nod, "Monster Hunter much like you, elf." He looks at the wounded elf.

"I have some herbs that help with discomfort if you want any, as well as an infection. But considering how you took care of the slavers... they might just send their hounds next after they don't heard from these ones." Nate warns, "I'll not sit still for much longer."

 

[Eren'thiel Xyrdithas]

Erën tiled his chin up to the man, apparently recognizing his... scent. Now that was an interesting ability for one such as a human, he thought. He also noticed the sword, made of silver, and the remains of his obvious prey hung from the grasp of his other hand. A werewolf's head. Erën kept his sword held at the ready for a moment, giving the man a thorough inspection before deeming both his words and demeanour to be trustworthy.

His sword found its place rested back at his side with a sharp rasp. He gestured for Nathanael to come forward, offering his trust.

"Indeed, they will no doubt return, but she is wounded and cannot walk. If need be, I will slay the fiends one by one as they come - they are no more than monsters now themselves... surely this you know," he gave Nathanael a judging stare, cautious of him despite the reprieve offered him.

Erën too could smell... something. But, he had noticed that there were other elves whose sense of smell was far more acute - but his excellence came from his hearing, which was usually nearly unmatched for his kind. But lately the clouds in his mind had made his awareness to be lessened. It had made him uncomfortable how Nathanael had crept up on him as he had - but it also led Erën to believe that there was indeed far more to this human that meets the eye. So he watched him, carefully.

 

[Nathanael McCallister]

Nate notes the elf’s judgmental stare as he examined him, “Normally I’d say that you’d be inviting more trouble to the organization if you do help her, and even more for yourself.” He warns Erén. Afterall one cannot be too careful, slavers were a dangerous lot and he saw them a few times consorting with monsters to get their revenge. “But this is a special circumstance I suppose.”

He’d approach the winged one and kneels down taking out a few herbs in his pouch and putting them into a small grinding bowl with some water and quickly grinds them into a paste. He’d hand her some leave to chew on in the mean time, “Chew on these, it will help with the pain.” He tells her quickly, and just as quickly he slathers some of the polluce onto her wounds. Ignoring her discomfort as he did.

The smell of the elf’s blood hit him but he ignored it, now more used to the toxic scent of most blood. “I don’t see any wounds on your legs.... nor any that could paralyze you. Is it because of those wings of yours?” He asks the injured elf with a calm and bored look. “Or the pain from when you crashed?” He’d ask motioning to the disturbed areas and feathers everywhere. He needed to know more in order to be able to help. He’d sigh and ask the winged one if he could pick her up, “I won’t hurt you.”

Normally, he’d just leave the two of them to their own fate if it was just because of this girl’s wings or walking issue. If she couldn’t fend for herself even after escaping then she should’ve thought her plan through more. Maybe actually fly away like a bird, or strengthen yourself up. Something! But he felt he needed a break from killing monsters, after all he was on the way to turn in this werewolf contract.

And to think there was no reason why he worked alone on multiple contracts, some people just made him tired.

 

[Eren'thiel Xyrdithas]

Erën crossed his arms as he watched Nate come forward and begin his inspection. It seemed he was much more of a healer than he, and that suited him just fine.

"Trouble to the organization is but the nature of our task... to vanquish evil one must be parted from such fear."

He could go on.

Humans, he had found, often struggled to accept the simplicity of at least some things in life. To fight against evil, to battle with monsters, is to make such things aware of you. And from that point on, you are forever a part of it, forever involved. With the first foe fell, forever changed. He would do it so others need not. Perhaps it was their terribly short lives: where their spirits desired to do right, but their flesh just wanted for what little joy it would find. What little peace.

An understanding in this moment, the brief introspection allowing him a greater empathy.

"Perhaps the two of us can move her... there is a settlement not far from here. If we can acquire transport..." his eyes drifted into the distance. Hues of red flashed across his vision, and the sound of wingbeats echoed in his mind, "...then I can take her to one of her own. She can be taken home..."

Kiana | Nathanael McCallister ​

 

[Kiana]

Kiana stares at the leaves in her hand. sniffing one before placing the plant in her mouth. Her face scrunches up but she follows her orders and places the rest in her mouth, chewing them slowly. As she consumes the leaves, hesitantly agrees to be carried by Nate. She feels the herbs on her back sting a bit meaning they seeped deep enough to reach her wound. "Please, be mindful of the wings, sir."

The avariel kept observing their conversation, ignoring the pain as Nate picks her up. She resembled a little kid when the parents talk about something they do not quite understand yet.
Kiana looks back and forth between the two men as they talked.

...then I can take her to one of her own. She can be taken home..."

Kiana frowns at the mention of her home. She remembers around the time her wings started to come in her mother packed up their belongings and became something like nomads. To Kiana, home was always with her mom, but she doubts she would ever be able to find her. The world is so vast she could be anywhere.

 

[Nathanael McCallister]

Nate listened to Eren as he picked Kiana up, "I'm going as far as the town then you guys are on your own." He tells them. "I have more contracts to complete and it is too soon for me to return to the Vale, I'll distract the hunters and their hounds when you guys head off." He tells Eren.

He'd look at the elf, "The old man wouldn't be too pleased if you brought an army of slavers and their own hunters nipping at the Vale's door. Not to mention Azulian." He warns Eren, she was definitely not someone one wanted to piss off, even if she was a healer. Though he always did wonder what the she-elf was really capable of in combat.

The lycan smiles and starts to walk towards the nearest town. The winged one was not too heavy for him, in fact, she was incredibly light. He could probably toss her a good ten feet or more if they were on opposing sides. "What is your name miss?" He asks the injured one

 

[Eren'thiel Xyrdithas]

Erën nodded along, watching carefully as Nate lifted Kiana from where she was. He was ready to render aid, but kept himself free for now in case their attackers should return.

But amidst his nodding, the mention of agitating Azulian or the others of the Gilded Vale almost prompted a wry grin from him. Though he did not seek to offend any of them, and respected the healer wholly, it was hardly out of a fearful compulsion for him to honour their safety: anyone foolish enough to attempt tracking him would be met with his terrible fury, long before they'd ever lay eyes on the safe house.

"The Vale will remain unsullied, as it has always been," he said confidently, turning his eyes to Kiana - likewise curious as to her name.

Kiana | Nathanael McCallister​

 

[Kiana]

Kiana appreciated the care Nate took to handling her wings as he carried her. She continued to observe the conversation in front of her. Who is this old man? She never heard of a person called Azulian before. These are all new people with no faces to her. Then the is the Vale. It sounds like some sort of safe place, a sanctuary. Thank the gods.
Kiana looks around avoiding eye contact with the two men. Her fingers picking at the skin around her nails. Kiana was a little nervous, not really looking forward to the possibilities of another ambush. Nate begins to move forward followed closely by Erën. The sound of dirt crunching beneath the men's feet as they made their way to the destination. When asked of her name she immediately replied.
"My name is Kiana, sir. It is a pleasure to meet you both."

 

[Nathanael McCallister]

Nate pauses for a moment being caught off guard from being called sir.

“You don’t need to call me that, just Nate will be fine. And you can talk if you want to, you don’t have to keep quiet anymore.” He tells her as they walked, “Do you need some food, water? For a long the way?” He’d ask her giving a questioning glance back to Eren not knowing what to tell her really. His family didn’t treat their underlings in such as way as the poor girl.