Open Chronicles Fires In Elbion

A roleplay open for anyone to join
N

Nayella

(This thread is a continuation and expansion of this thread. TL;DR Two mage runaways from Elbion and one sketchy demon lady get roped into causing chaos in the North, Elbion Specifically. So far the three have entered the outer city via boarding a ship one of them infected with a nasty plague. The vessel is quarantined but the guard is watching it closely. This thread here is entirely open and we hope people from Elbion join it to stop us!)
Anima Luc
Elbion

Nayella stood and glanced at the other two, lips thinning for a second as she stared at the odd representation that Luc had conjured from his waterskin. Her lips thinned in a frown, and she looked up at Luc.

Luc had stated what their path of escape was, where they were going, but not exactly what they would be doing once they got there. They all knew the gist of it of course, why they had been sent in the first place, why they were here. They all knew the promises they made made. It was all a mess of complications. Of things they had to do.

Nayella knew her reason for being here was not the same as the other two, and as she stared at the map she thought it the best time to speak. "I must part ways with you here."

"My path sets me towards the College itself."
She explained quite frankly.

There she would find what she was looking for.

They had all worked together to get here. She had set the plague that was now festering on a ship in the harbor to work, Luc had gotten them atop this building, and Anima had been crucial to their survival. Now however her objective finally differed from theirs. She'd never said it out loud, but all this time she'd simply been a tag along.

It was time to part ways. "Remember your promise to the scarlet woman."

The witch said to the both of them.
 
"...Think. When using practical applications of magic to protect yourself, you have to remember that your life could be at real risk. It is of course, and has always been, the position of the College that Magic used to intentionally harm another is a subversion of what a Sorcerer should stand for. And those who commit these acts will be reprimanded. However, defending yourself against an opponent; that's a different situation. Using what you've learnt today is extremely important in a defence situation. Application is just as important as The Theo-"

"Nonsense!"

Sparhawk had been teaching at Elbion for several months at the time of this lecture. His beard had grown longer and fuller. It was the first time he'd been allowed the council to give a lesson on practical magicks, specifically the usage and defence of elemental magic; his area of expertise.

The day was hot, the classroom was quiet, and a light breeze came in through the large window to the back of the classroom. A class of 20 sat and watched him give the lesson, providing theory, but exclaiming practicality. One student in particular, Trait Kerren, had interrupted him in the middle of a statement. He was a gifted member of the class, well spoken, and boasting high grades in written essays on the deep arts of magic, but also offering developed offensive capabilities - for that of a 17 year old. He came from a very wealthy family from Alliria, that had paid an incredible sum to house and educate him at the college.

Sparhawk looked at the student, curious for his extrapolation.

"How so, Kerren."

"You're claiming that practicality is just as imperative as Theory, yet I'm fairly sure you, like every other crusty Professor in this school hasn't even stepped out of their office for a day. I bet i've been in more duels than you. Aren't teachers meant to practice what they preach?" He looked around to the rest of the class, pumping his chest out with bravado.

Sparhawk was so tempted to list off his plethora of experiences in the outside world, and everything he'd seen. Everything he'd done. But he'd promised the council that, for all intensive purposes, Maho Sparhawk went to live on a farm, and 18 years later decided to leave and become a Professor. No one could know.

"You know Trait, they're holding a competition for young new Sorcerers such as yourself just outside of town. It seems many have thrown their names into the fray already. I'd best apply now, so we can all see your famed skills as a duelist." A few in the class laughed quietly to themselves, but most awkwardly shifted around in their seats, and looked down to the floor. Trait sat back down without another word.

"Alright, well- I guess i'll end that there; tomorrow we'll be covering wards against Pyromancy and Hexes, so be sure not to tire yourselves before then. Just go over the basics we covered today and you'll be well set for tomorrow. Have a good day." Most of the students picked up their satchel bags, and left the class, chattering to each other. One student however, stayed, the youngest girl in the class, he wasn't sure of her name, but knew she was admitted to the class for her aptitude in magic. She approached him nervously.

"Uh... Professor, I have a question." She shifted shyly.

"Fire away."

"Have you really never- you know, been out there and used magic, like, properly?"
Sparhawk found the question oddly offensive, but it made perfect sense. She was only thirteen or so, so it seemed fair enough that she'd think that he may just be an academic. He did find if funny however...

Sparhawk looked left and right, as if he was making sure no one was listening, and drew close, with a low voice.

"Would you believe me, if I told you i was a Legendary Pyromancer, fighting powerful Necromancers, armies of Dwarves, along-side legions of Orc warriors, burning through the strongest metals, and fighting templars?" He chuckled. She did along with him.

"If you could do all that, you wouldn't b- be a teacher!" She laughed louder. He did along-side her. She began to walk towards the door.

"See you tomorrow sir!" He waved her away.

Sigh.

He got all of his books together, and exited the class. Not the most successful lesson he'd had, but it was his last of the day. He decided to go out to relax a little. Perhaps a little fresh-air, and a look at the greenery in the sunshine would lift his spirits.

What else could happen today...
 
A story.

One of discovery, like many are. Yes. Here you live in Elbion, a child, left alone for most hours of the day and night. For Mother was busy, always busy, wasn't she? Yes. There are books, toys and things to play with, other children from the neighborhood. These pastimes not without enjoyment. But they do lack something, don't they? Yes. There is a yearning. Something veiled. Waiting to be seen.

You are drawn to the fireplace. To the candles that Mother lights at night to read by. You are not allowed to touch the fire, no. No. No...

But you do.

Don't you?

Yes. When Mother isn't home. You remember the day when first you gathered all the courage your childish heart could muster. And you stole into the cabinet which housed the flint and steel. The candles were expensive, but you did not know nor did you care. You just...wanted...to see something...

Burn.

Yes.

And you did it, didn't you? Yes. You did. That joyous smile spreading across your face. That raw excitement, inherent in this and lacking in the books and toys and playmates. Yes. You did this. You started that fire. You watched it burn. You took a tiny piece of the world and claimed the ash for yourself. Still, you wanted more. Still, there was more to discover of the self, wasn't there?

So you went to the fireplace. Put in a new log. Started and cradled the daylight fire. The size of it! All yours! Bask in its warm glow! Yes! Your smile turns to a grin and all you see is orange. And you watch that fire take more from Arethil. The turning of wood to ash. Once done, it could not be undone, could it? Magnificent. Still, you wanted more. Still, there was more to discover of the self, wasn't there?

You see on the window sill a caterpillar. A big one. Long and fuzzy, inching along with those distinct arches of its body. You're intrigued, aren't you? The wick and the wood did not feel pain. Did not feel the transformation of the flame. So you pluck the caterpillar from the sill. Hold it over the fire in the fireplace. It curls, squirms. You drop it in. And you grin as it turns black and shrivels and becomes indistinguishable from all else. Still, you wanted more. Still, there was more to discover of the self, wasn't there?

You remember the cat that gave birth to a litter the day before. The kitten with the broken leg, abandoned. Was it still there? You leave your home and yes there it is, alive. Eyes closed, tiny, mewling. The caterpillar could feel but it could not express, could it? You wanted to hear your work, didn't you? To know what you've done. To feel it vicariously. To share in that pain. So you rush home. Close the door behind you. Go to the fireplace. The day-old kitten in your hands.

You watched it burn, didn't you?

Do you still remember it?

That delightful lullaby?

* * * * *​

Atop the large stone housing of the quarantine dock of the Elbion harbor stood Anima and Luc and Nayella. Distant and muted talk from the dockworkers and guards below, their attention solely on the plagued ship in the dock, their minds surely wondering what exactly had befallen the vessel and her crew.

Anima looked to Nayella. Grinned. Parting ways? Leaving Luc all to herself. All to herself. Yes. The dread of returning to Elbion buried further by a mounting excitement.

And they were charged, weren't they? Luc and Anima both. Charged by the Man from Before to deliver the pendants to The Midnight Dream, and by the Dreadlord to bring chaos and destruction in their wake. The latter they had done some of on their way here--all those wonderful fires--and the former promised more. As did Nayella's own path. The blight magic suited her well, didn't it? For hers was a presence akin to fatal disease.

Change--discovery--awaited.

Anima leaned her head back and took in a breath through her nose and glanced sidelong at Luc.

Said, "You've waited for this, haven't you?"

A smile.

"To hear that delightful lullaby...again."





(((Further context. TL;DR = Luc and Anima blackmailed by the Luminari into delivering "questionable" magic pendants to a specific tavern at a specific time.)))

"Today, you think?" Khadija Han asked.

Clarissa Mejeure leaned up against the wall beside the sealed basement door. Light from above trickling down the stairs. She said, "If not today then, tomorrow."

"You said that yesterday."

"Oh, I know, love."

Kha shook her head. Checked the dwarven clock pendant around her neck. Looked back to the door. Iron. Faintly glowing magical etchings upon it. They were careful, the Black Circle. As careful as they could be, anyway. They weren't above Claire's particular charms. Two of them, at least. Still, they were secretive enough that she had put in more effort than usual. She managed to learn the three important things that the Luminari needed to know to get this done.

First, that there was a powerful magical catalyst in their possession to begin with.

Second, that they kept it here in the Senior's home and had the door sealed with magic.

Third, that they all wore similar pendants.

And the plan came together over time. Claire advised right from the onset that the Black Circle weren't going to be pliable or sympathetic in the slightest to the Luminari's cause. They didn't care about much, but what they did care about, they did so intensely. So talking was off the table.

So taking the catalyst by force was it. Problem? The Luminari didn't know which of the five members of the Black Circle was magically sealing the door, or if they were taking turns, or what. It was too risky for Claire to inquire about. And assassinations of some or perhaps even all five members seemed a touch...loud. Think about it. Elbion at large didn't know anything about these men and what they did in secret. That, and assassinations could be good for the short-term gain of the catalyst but terrible for the long-term effort against the College. Assassins could fail. Be caught. Talk. Betray. Blackmail. Wouldn't that be ironic, looking at it now?

There's the conundrum. All five members of the Black Circle needed to die (mostly simultaneously), but at the same time, it needed to look like they weren't being targeted, and the Luminari needed to stay distant and secret from it all.

Tick. Tock. What's the plan, ma'am?

Well, Kha prided herself on it when she finally put it all together. It was no big secret that the members of the Black Circle were friends in their 'normal' lives in Elbion. They even met together every day at noon in a tavern called The Midnight Dream for lunch. Wasn't that cute?

Then Claire mentioned those pendants. Kha asked if she could swipe one without blowing her cover. Claire did. Brilliant. Turned out, there wasn't much to them. Some small, seemingly innocent magic in them that just helped put you into a meditative state if you stared at the pendant for a long time. But! But! Upon further, closer inspection, a little hint of dark magic. Smothered in center, so to speak. The Black Circle just couldn't help themselves, could they? Kha knew a thing or two about devious enchantments, and, well frankly, about making a counter enchantment to violently react with the concealed dark magic within the Black Circle's pendants when in proximity. Oh yes. Freak accident, you see, citizens of Elbion? Happens all the time in the city of magic.

A few small tests here and there and...and...there it was. Now the Luminari just needed some unassociated 'volunteers' to carry these sister pendants imbued with the full-strength counter enchantments to The Midnight Dream at noon. Trajan steps in, helps with the list of potential volunteers. Excellent call on the half-breeds by him; Kha wouldn't have even considered that angle. Full-blooded xenos would be too risky and unpredictable, and it was preferable to not coerce full-blooded humans into it.

Enter Luc the Unlucky and Anima Contra. Two prime targets of opportunity. Despite that magic trick Anima pulled that almost brought the house down on everyone...well, it worked out splendidly, didn't it?

Now it was all in motion.

Hopefully the sealing magic faded immediately after the right Circle member died. She'd even settle for soon after.

Kha wondered a bit as she waited. Just how powerful would the reaction be when those two entered The Midnight Dream? The sister pendants didn't blow up in testing, sure. But that was with a crippled version of the counter enchantment. For that matter, Kha wasn't even sure of the exact nature of the reaction the Black Circle's pendants would have. Violent, destructive, deadly, yes, that much she knew, but of what kind and the magnitude, especially with two counter enchantments coming into proximity? Maybe it'd be enough. Maybe not, results too chaotic, something like that. Even if they lived through it somehow, Claire assured Kha that the Black Circle would react rashly. Very rashly. They weren't being taken alive if they thought their secret was out, to put it mildly, she had said.

Well...surely the talk on the streets of Elbion when Luc and Anima finally arrived would be deliciously fulfilling. Ah. Kha did love her work.

If they arrived.

Kha waited alongside Claire. Tapped her foot.

The full moon was coming. Only a few days left. Maybe even just a couple.

Huh. Claire was right. Imagine that.

Almost like a broken clock.
 
It stung. He didn't expect that. She had threaten him on more then one occasion and he knew himself to be the cause of many of her scowls. Yet traveling with her, he had gotten use to having Blight Witch's company close at hand and it was then he realized that in quite the childish fashion, he cared for her as a friend would.

She'd gut you if she had to... But.. Wouldn't you do the same? The voice echoed in his head. He wasn't sure if it was his own or the second amulet he wore. The one he stole from his master. The one with the spirit trapped inside. It's the nature of the path we chose though. Was how he reasoned those thoughts. Friendly until they their lives were on the line.

Still, he couldn't deny he would miss her.

"What good am I if I do not make good on promises... Safe travels Nayella..." He said in a low voice that almost betrayed his feelings. "May we never meet as enemies..."

He meant that.

Looking to Anima, he sucked in a deep breath, clenched his jaw and offered a strong nod. It was time they left. Time they heard that familiar melody.

Hands flowing with mana, two more hexes were created, one before himself and one before Nayella. It would get her off the roof and closer towards the college where she was headed. It was a final favor for the Blight Witch who he had learned so much from during his travels. Damn he would miss her, and that was a reminder that the heart he tried to steel inside his chest still beat like a boy. He didn't need that now. He needed the heart of a agent of chaos. And so he stepped upon the hex and was launched from the room to the houses across the street with out so much as another word spoke. He couldn't afford to say anything, least he accept he was still a boy and not what he needed to be today. No, what he needed to be was something quite opposite.

He needed to be a monster.
 
She nodded.

That was it. A simple nod was the only goodbye that her companions of weeks would receive. It was about as much emotion as she had always shown them. A brief glimpse of anger here, some moments of nostalgia, and then a nod. That was all they ever saw.

Nayella was a broken thing, and she had accepted that about herself long ago. The Blight Witch lingered on the roof top for just a brief second, then simply turned away from Anima and Luc. Within a few steps she broke into a sprint, hopping onto the next roof top and running along until she could jump to the one after.

She moved quickly, magic flowing through her.

After the fourth building she jumped down, landing hard on the street below and allowing a thin wall of air to catch her. There were no people on the street at this time of night, though a few lights still lit windows even now. Her gaze flickered around the street as she slowly stood.

Nayella knew from experience that the city watch would come by in a patrol soon, but that hardly mattered. A small incantation was muttered, fingers unfurling from a fist and a small flame appearing in her palm. It flickered for a moment, dancing in the dark as she took a step forward.

Her hand reached out, catching the underhand of a small thatched roof.

The flame jumped to the straw, grasping at its kindling and sparking in an instant. It was slow to burn at first, the smell reaching her nostril quickly. Then her other palm glowed green, the wood around the building strained, aging and rotting until the fire quickly spread over it.

So it would begin.

Nayella watched it for a brief moment, then repeated the process twice more as she moved towards the college.

Before long the three small fires would turn to a blaze. One large enough go keep the eyes of the college turned away from what she wanted.

Maho Sparhawk Luc Anima
 
Something was amiss in the city of Elbion.

From his perch on the ship, Alistair heard the mages chanting from the college, the high pitched notes of their voices carrying over warning bells as they rang throughout the city. Silence pervaded the ship, marred only by the moans and cries of sailors affected by a terrible disease, one rumored to be born of witchcraft and amidst it, Alistair could sense that there was more to come.

In a cabin reserved for healers, the young mage inhaled a whiff of a protective potion, before smearing a mask with a similar remedy to protect him against the plague while he was treating patients. He tucked the sleeves of his robes into his belt and put the mask on and tied it, then grabbed his case of potions and herbs and headed out. Wearing thick gloves and and an apron, he walked down the side of the ship, where men were laid out on stretchers, being treated left and right by busy healers from the college.

One of them raised a hand, crying painfully out to Alistair, "mage! Mage!" His voice was strained, broken by agony.

Picking up his pace, Alistair darted over to the man, who had only just come down recently, by the looks of it. Kneeling by the make-shift bed, he placed his case down and opened, all the while placing a hand gently against the man's shoulder to calm him down. He coughed and sputtered, convulsing as the fever took hold, his hands and feet contorting into unnatural positions. Laying on his side, he whined, tears bulging from his eyes.

Reaching into his case, Alistair gently patted the man's shoulder, "it's okay," he cooed, peering at him over the top of his mask, "I"m going to help you," a nod, and he turned around to face his case.

Grabbing tweezers, herbs and an assortment of vials, he began by popping the man's sores, then gently wiped them with a rag to clear away the pus. The man whined and cried the whole time, unable to form sentences amidst the pain. Sitting with one knee on the deck and one raised, Alistair's robes splayed across it while worked hard to concoct a potion. Vial in hand, he stirred a blue remedy with an extract of herbs and held it before the man, cradling his head as he invited him to drink it.

"Drink this, it will enhance the healing process," he reassured.

The man nodded, sweat pouring off his forehead and took the vial. He downed it, shook and handed it back to Alistair, who soaked it in disinfectant.

"Are you from the college?" The man asked, his words audibly shaking.

"Yes, we all are," Alistair nodded towards the other mages scurrying around the ship. Grabbing a bundle of herbs, he snapped his fingers and set the ends alight, a trick Maho Sparhawk had taught him. Holding them in front of the man, he stroked his hair.

"Lay down, I'm going to start healing you now," he instructed, laying the man down with a gentle hand.

Standing upright, Alistair walked around the man's bedside and waved the herbs slowly through the air, smoke belching from the ends.
 
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Evening had fallen over Elbion, the night plaguing the sky with it's moonlight. Sparhawk had never loved the night, since the light wasn't sufficient for him to read in.

Even though the voices that once clasped onto his mind had gone quiet, the months of no sleep made him not one for early nights. He'd spend them reading in the courtyard, or practicing incantations by the moonlight. He had a lot of time for that now, to hone his techniques, to focus in on each individual element that made up a spell, every nuance, each slight manipulation. Gave him something to do.

Something was odd that night however. Sparhawk had always felt he had a good nose for trouble, and something was definitely not right.

Since he was so focused on his reading, he had not noticed the flame rising in the sky until it's light shone onto the pages of the tome he was reading, "An Archmage's Adventures through Arethil".

Hey, if he couldn't have any adventures, it didn't mean he couldn't read about them.

His reading even distracted him from the ringing bell hanging over Elbion, a cacophony of sound travelling over the land. Before he had time to take in what was going on, a Maester of the Fourth Order, Alanor Ipan, approached him quickly, gasping for air.

"Hawk! I've sent a small detachment down to the village to put out the fire! From what I gather, I assume it must have just been a rogue mage or the like. However, the Order have asked me to put a ward around the College, just in case. We may be under attack."

Although he understood the council's logic, he thought it was unnecessary to put a ward around the College for a small fire. However, it was his job, and he wasn't going to argue with the Council, especially since he hadn't been a Professor for very long.

"Alright, But- I can help with the Fir-"

"Hawk!" He shouted, impatiently.

"Alright, alright. Shall we?"

They both lifted their Staffs into the air, the ends glowing with a blue light, as energy began lifting into the sky, covetting the college;

Ahm aissadan verw nadannan pirr hemmen nam hietha arw hemmem...
The chant continued, as the glow of azure held onto the sky, and it's light spread across the college.
 
Luc held them in, his emotions, exposing none. Disappointing. Partings were often quite succulent, even more so than reunions. Perhaps he was being poetic, returning only what was given by Nayella. Yes. Humorous and vengeful. Delightful. In the absence of all else Anima decided that was Luc's intent for him, and made it so in her mind.

Another of Luc's hexes. Another flight through the air. Landing beside him again on the roof of a house.

She stood. Smiled.

The birth of a small, fledgling light amidst all the others; Nayella was already starting. Yes. That tiny imperfection besmirching the gaunt veil of order draped over the city. Quickly would it spread. As did all things which worked from the inside out. Fire and corruption alike.

Let it grow. Let it manifest.

In chaos could be found the most sweet and precious of moments, the most powerful of emotions. The ones most transformative, the ones most revealing. Yes. When order and mundanity were stripped away, there the instigation of change and discovery. True intents and desires made to surface. The unlocking of what lay hidden in the heart. Of course. The burning of Iron Lake and of the windmill in Ared'luin two proofs in the infinite line of such evidence.

Those potent emotions. All hers to bask in. The cowardice and the fear and the bravery and the dedication and the love and the sorrow and anger and the horror of it all.

And more than all else, she desired to bask in Luc. To witness with him what he would become. He could join her. Yes. He could join her.

The taste of cherries on her tongue.

Perhaps a little...push.

Anima leaned into him as she spoke, arm around him and head dipped into the cradle of his neck. She said, "You know a place, don't you? A place from before. Yes. The claws of memory still digging into you. This is your chance, isn't it? To be rid of that place. Now. Forever."

A tiny squeeze of his arm. Gentle.

"Hmm?"
 
Phillipa sat quietly in her office. Shutting out the rest of the world for a short time while she went through old memories and tried to push down the emotions they would bring with them. The few bottles of wine that she had enjoyed in the silence of her office hadn't done much for her other than make her wallow in her own grief a bit harder.

Knock knock

Her eyes snapped to the door, and without allowing it, the door opened to reveal a gargoyle. They nodded in both greeting and warning.

"What is it?" Phillipa snapped, unhappy with being disturbed towards the end of night. "Why are you here?"

"There have been several fires started in the town. What would you ask of us?" the gargoyle asked blandly. It took her a few moments to connect the dots of what it was asking, in comparison to what it was implying.

"Everyone of you on high alert. Do not allow students in without identification. Do not allow them out without permission from professors. If anyone attacks the college, you are permitted to use lethal force." Phillipa permitted, standing and wobbling a little. "I'll be a minute before I join the defense."
 
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"Dragons....." The Bartender mumbled giving Willis a jug of a Ale. "Fucking Dragons Willis I've seen them fly over Elbion for the past weeks."

Slapping 3 gold coins on to the wooden table Willis sighed taking his beverage out from the Bartender's hand. "I told you Dale," the young man grumbled taking a huge swig despite the jug being overflowing with froth. "Dragons tend to stay away from big cities. There hasn't been a Dragon attack on a city in years and if there was a Dragon flying close to Elbion, the Monster Hunter Fortress would've spotted him the moment it's within the facility."

Dale a Dwarven Bartender who happens to own the Hanged Man: The Inn located near the docks of Elbion tended to be scatterbrained at times. He would believe pretty much any nonsensical story that came from the mouths of patrons usually Sailors who often tell the most ridiculous tales. One time Willis came in after a long day of mercenary work and all he wanted was a fucking drink. Instead Willis got his ear talked off by Dale who claimed that he met an Elf who had an 40 inch cock. The Dwarf ended getting decked by the angered young man.

This time though Dale's rambling about Dragons didn't irritate Willis. His thoughts were focused on Phillipa Ebonheart: The Raven Haired beauty they had a rather interesting adventures in the Woodlands. Ever since then all Willis could think about was Phillipa was there a chance that the two of them could possibly be more? Was there a spark between them. "Dale?" Willis asked. "I need to cut to the chase is Phillipa the one for me?"

Dale stopped rambling and raised an eyebrow, for a brief moment Willis saw a black beetle crawling in his white beard. "You've been talking about that girl every time you come here Willis," he said. "Besides didn't you say the last girl was the one? What's her name?"

"Eryn," Willis thought sadly. Just thinking about Eryn just bought nothing but pain. He was in love with Eryn but..... "Fuck," he grumbled. But with Philippa there was something that went beyond that.... right?

"I think you need to slow down Reede," Dale said filling a glass of mead for a Dark Elf customer. " Lady Ebonheart is a noble and they're typically picky with who they marry."

"No shit," Willis sighed taking another swig. "Her being a cutthroat like me will bring shame to her family," he said.

"And you need to stop falling in love with women," Dale said checking one of the tankards. "Stop chatting up with every skirt you see. Remember the last time you had a disease after you've slept with one of my taver girls."

"Bessy," Willis smirked. "With the big tits in which you can fit a Dwarf beween them. I remember her from months ago. It's all right my good friend: Maho Sparhawk cured me of the disease"

"Who?"

"Nevermind."

Dale sat closer to Willis. "You need to take a break lad," he warned. "Phillipa especially is beyond you: A man without honor who's born amongst swine and sees coin as law."

For some reason, Willis felt nothing but pride for that. "Now focus on yourself," Dale began "and then-"

"Run good people!" An Halfling sprinted into tavern out of breath. "Tis a fire all over Elbion!"

"Dragons!!!!!" Dale immediately hid under the table as the people began to panic. Willis gritted his teeth and held on to the hilt of his Raiper. "The last thing we need to do is panic," he muttered as he got up. "The guard should take of this," he said.
 
Nayella was running now.

Before she had attempted to pace herself as best as she could, if only because being spotted sprinting through the streets was a surefire way of getting arrested. With the blaze now truly set behind her however there was reason to run, and thus she booked it down the streets as fast as she could.

Above the College she could see the shimmering field of magic beginning to form, a barrier meant to keep out those who sought to enter the college.

That was what she was racing against.

Once it landed upon the ground she knew that she would not be able to cross it. Her magic was strong, but if they detected her it would all be over. So she ran, power flowing through her to push her on even further. She turned a corner, half sliding into a woman that began to shout at her.

Nayella shot her a look, then continued to run.

The wall of the College sat ahead of her.

An entrance wouldn't do, they would be guarded and protected. The walls were enchanted of course, but that didn't matter. Her fingers began to glow green, the Blight Witch gathering her strength as she came to a running stop.

She touched the wall, and the rot began. Ancient grout and old stone crumbled, falling away as her own magic stripped away the bindings placed upon the wall. Her fingers pressed, and a small piece of the wall fell into itself.

The hole was not large, just big enough for her to crawl through.

With a frown she scrunched herself up, crawling through the small alcove and landing on the college grounds with a thud. Behind her the ward above came crashing down, sealing her in.

Phillipa Ebonheart | Maho Sparhawk
 
The herbs in hand, Alistair lay the man down gently. Navy eyes peering over the top of his mask, he wafted the smoke around, the healing properties entering the man's lungs as he inhaled them. Alistair rose to his feet and splayed out a hand, the man's head directly beneath his palm. He coughed, cleared his throat and began to sing.

"Light of the stars and the roots of the earth, penetrate the vessel which has been tainted," walking around the man, Alistair carried the herbs and sung the rite, his soft, contemplative voice lifting above the sea. "Cleanse them, and bring forth the health by which the stars grace, seek out the ill poison by which they are afflicted and drive it out, replenish them," a hand spread against the air, Alistair recited the spell beautifully, every function aligning according to the stars from where he drew his power.

"Relieve them of pain, and mend their sores, break the fever by which they suffer," leaning down slowly, he placed a hand on the man's head as he sung.

"Drive out this sickness and wrench thee, cleanse them of its hand," Alistair sung. Withdrawing his hand from the man's head, he put down the herbs, which had been burnt away with the effect of the spell.

The man was sleeping silently now, a hot sweat rising from his brow as the fever broke. Satisfied, Alistair sighed, and knew he would have to do the same thing in the morning once the healing properties of the spell wore off. It wasn't enough, healing patients over and over, until the disease somehow subsided. They needed to get to the source of the plague and destroy it, but there was nothing Alistair could do. For now, he was stuck healing patients one by one, until the older mages discovered the source of the plague.

"Fire! Fire at the college!" A mage called.

Jerking around, Alistair stood upright to see feint, orange embers rising over the city wall. The healers scrambled, getting patients back into their cabins. Alistair threw down the herbs, packed up his things and carried his case back to the healer's cabin.

As he was putting it away, one of the older mages spoke up, "fires are being set around the college, looks like pyromancy, Wren," he ordered.

"Master?" Alistair said, taking off his gloves.

"I need you to get ashore and find Sparhawk, we need all the mages we can get to combat the blaze," the older mage ordered.
 
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Somethings just smelled like trouble, they give of the vibe that you should forget about it and go back to bed. The kind of feeling that made the hairs in the back of your neck stand up, that was the feeling the ruined section of the wall gave Nicodemus. Never one to take unnecessary risks Nicodemus made sure to not touch anything before having pulled on his heavy padded and warded glows. Picking up part of the stone he looked at it closely.

Part of the wall and the ward net surrounding it had been destroyed. No, not just destroyed Nicodemus concluded as he looked closer at the piece of the wall, his enchanted spectacles working overtime to make sense of what he saw. It didn’t seem to simply be a case of pure kinetic force, it was something more subtle. If he hadn’t been part of the crew that helped maintain the warding schemes he’d have said it had simply crumbled due to the ravage of time. It reminded him of old ruins and temples he had searched through on his travels. Magic that had spent itself over time and returned to nothing.

The ancient walls that just a day previous had been as strong and impervious as ever now sported a big bruise, clearly they were having some uninvited guests. Someone who know enough about magic and had the power to tear through the wall and warding like it was wet tissue. A chilling thought.

In the end he concluded that time manipulation was unlikely, if they were dealing with somebody on that level why would they bother doing this? They could just destroy the front gate and everybody that was foolish enough to stand in their way. Whatever had broken in, packed quite the punch, but clearly wasn’t invincible. That was a small comfort as he looked at the state the wall was in. Nicodemus was doubting he’d have been able to pack such a punch himself, and very sure he didn’t wish to be on the receiving end.

“Hartmar, have you found anything, you’re awfully quiet buddy.” Nicodemus could hear one of his colleagues, Alexander from the warding squad call out. They were all spread out to cover as much of the outer walls as possible.

“Yeah.” Sadly he thought to himself, it was just his luck that his squad had to be the one to find the anomaly. Now they’d have to investigate it closer, with little hope of any reward and a very real risk of injuries or death. So much for a relaxing time between archaeological expeditions.

For a moment the thought of just covering it up crossed his mind, it wouldn’t take much, he was the first one there and it’d take a few seconds for Alexander to reach him. All it would take was for him to call out and report that there was nothing to see, and he could be back in his house in no time. It lasted only a moment. If it got out that he had hindered the investigation of a threat to the college he could be exiled and lose his comfy position and funding. Which was a no go, so sadly he forced the notion down and instead made ready for their work.

He didn’t bother to say more as Alexander joined him by the ruined wall. More would be coming as well as Alexander relied the message to his familiar, a black raven that shoot out to warn whoever’s job it was to gather guards and more battle minded sorcerers.

As his colleague did the more administrative duties Nicodemus continued to study the ruined wall. It more and more reminded him of old temples and catacombs he had studied. Reaching into his small bag Nicodemus made ready to study it even closer. If he could understand what sort of magic their guest had used it could prove invaluable to whoever had to face him? Her? It?

With a quick incantation and a flurry of runes he summoned up one of his more diverse and useful entities. From the middle of the pentagram he had quickly drawn on the ground black tentacles with eyes reached out and quickly disappeared under the sorcerers robes. One tentacle winding its way up his neck and connected to his temple as a multitude of eyes poked through from various opening in his clothing.

Closing his eyes Nicodemus focused on those of his summoned creature, dominating the simple mind he looked through its eyes. For a few seconds nausea threatened to overwhelm, but he forced it down. Any untrained person would have had their mind broken by the strain, of seeing through something so alien, but not him. He was a sorcerer of Elbion he put his pride in comprehending what other minds could not, he was beyond it. Even as he told himself so, he could feel his stomach trying to make its way up his throat.

The world looked different, twisted as if seen under water through the entities eyes. The colors too bright, everything having a strange after image, no matter how many times he did it Nicodemus still felt the pull to draw deeper, to look closer. Pushing the temptation away he focused the multitude of eyes on the wall and the surrounding area, he was starting to get a sense of the magic. A magical footprint or echo.

Not time? Not directly, rot maybe? Some sort of corruption or sickness? It was quite fascinating. Worthy of a proper paper and study at a later date, moving the eyes around Nicodemus searched to clues to where the culprit had run off to. Hopefully whatever it was had moved further in and thus wasn't his direct responsibility and somebody else could deal with it. While Nicodemus was searching more sorcerers arrived, these dressed in battle gear and looking ready to hurt somebody.
 
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The incantation was finished.

It was the first time Sparhawk had to use that Ward. Before he was admitted to teach at the College, it was required reading to learn how to summon the 'Great Ward', taking advantage of the large number of powerful Sorcerers at the College, allowing for a group ward to be created, protecting the College from any major attack. It would indeed take a powerful Sorcerer to take down the Ward. Few had done it, but those who did often threatened Elbion, or even Arethil itself.

Alanor Ipan turned to speak to Sparhawk, even more out of breath now he had uttered the entire incantation.

"Hawk... now.... phew..." He wiped his forehead, a wave of sweat coming off onto the sleeve of his robe.

"It may be best you go to help with the fires in the town. I'll guard the courtyard." He had a desperate look on his face, the old man likely not having seen any event like this in a long time, despite it's minor nature.

"Alright, I'm sure others have gone down to extinguish the fire, but i shall go. Protect yourself Alanor." They both nodded to one another, and Sparhawk took his leave.

Sparhawk ran to leave as quickly as he could. He secretly feared the fire would spread to the entire town, mainly due to the thatched nature of all the houses roofs. If he were there, he'd feel far more comfortable. As he was about to leave the main gate, a Gargoyle sat on the lefthand column, staring at him.

"You may leave."
The gargoyle said, with a cold, stone-like tone.

"Thanks." Sparhawk replied, awkwardly.

Sparhawk continued to run through the gate. As he got further down to the town, he started seeing people running about, away from the main town. The Fire had spread. Not out of control, but it had spread considerably, posing a threat to many lives. He was gasping for air as he sprinted further down towards the main town.

Why couldn't have I been more athletic.
 
The heavy smell of smoke peppered the air, carried upon the breeze. He closed his eyes and savored the moment as Anima embraced him and spoke poison into his pointed ear... But then if there were words he wanted to hear, were they really poison? Wasn't this the time to cast off the shackles of Elbion once and for all?

They had came to a stop after hopping form roof to roof, allowing Luc to access where they were. Closer to their target but not quiet there. That was when the charred smell of something burning teased his nose. He took in a deep breath, thankfully for the distraction Nayella provided. Though her parting was quick he somehow tricked himself into believing she cared, in some fashion at least.

"Soon... We have a task to fulfill.. Close we are... Then we spread a little chaos as he take flight... Payment for the Fire Woman... Then freedom.. For us..." But what freedom could they have? He had no illusions that they weren't meant to survive this. They were chosen because they were expendable. Only he had no plans of failing at all.

You've lingered to long... Move Storm Child.

The voice with in pushed in and so he did. He moved away form Anima, waving her own to following as he took a running leap to the next roof. Booted hills slapped against the titled roof and found purchase and he pushed on.

On to what..? More chaos of course.
 
Nayella breathed quietly as she crept along the grounds of the College.

She attempted to make the presence of her magic as small as possible, not wanting to be detected as she moved closer and closer to the central Keep itself.

The Blight Witch knew these grounds well. Most of her early life had been spent here among the stone walls. Her memory was good, though as she moved through the college she could not help but remember all those things that had turned her from this place.

Lips thinned.

No distractions. She thought to herself.

There was no opportunity here to be pulled aside, no way that she could allow herself to be distracted from her purpose. There was temptation to burn, to destroy, to do what she could to bring this place to the ground and never see it rise.

Yet she knew it would be foolish.

She had but one goal; The Vault.

Slowly Nayella crept forward, moving only as fast as she could until she reached the central school itself. Her hand reached out, touching the stone. Slowly it too would begin to crumble, wards and magic stripped away to grant her entrance.
 
Clarissa Mejeure was down at the bottom of the stairs by the sealed basement door, holding a small candle. She looked up. Smiled and gave a little wave. And Khadija Han descended the stairs and stood by the big iron door alongside her.

It was starting to become strangely routine to Kha, sneaking into the Senior of the Black Circle's home. Probably felt far more normal to Claire; she did more field work than Kha. Regardless, both of them were stuck waiting by this same damn door everyday--sometimes twice a day if the Black Circle had dinner together at The Midnight Dream--until the coming full moon. Luc and Anima had until then to do as they were bidden. If all went well, the magical etchings on the door would fade and it could finally be opened.

"Did you hear about the fires, dear?" Claire asked.

Kha considered it. "You don't...think that was the Black Circle's doing, do you?"

Claire waved the idea away. "Oh, no, no, love. No one knows yet. Buuuut~~~" Claire rocked back and forth on her heels. "There's always that chance that it's the someones we've been expecting."

"Well I certainly hope so." Kha entwined her hands and cradled the back of her head in them and leaned back against a wall. "I don't know how you stand it. Does all field work consist mostly of boredom?"

Claire flexed out the fingers of one hand and glanced over the nails. "I have ways of staying entertained. Would you like to hear a few of them? Hmmmmm?"

"Forget I said anything."

"Oh, I suppose you're right. Luc isn't here anyway, now is he?" She poked her in the side twice. "Quite the specimen, wouldn't you agree, Kha dearest?"

Kha's look of indignation was a poor veil to hide the flushing of her cheeks.

Claire smirked.

And they waited.

* * * * *​

One roof.

To the next. Momentary and cautionary pauses when the sound of voices from below reached their ears. Hurried footsteps running past on the street level. All of them on every occasion going toward the fires. The faintest scent of fear and anticipation and anxiety left lingering in their wake.

Anima's eyes tracked one pair of guards, their backs to herself and Luc, as they ran. The calling of what was little more than instinct, born from the darkest and deepest recesses of her mind, bidding her to abandon what she was doing and to run after them. To bask in them. To watch them rise or fall as they met the challenge in front of them and to absorb their joy or their terror as either end was made manifest. Vicarious lives to live, there on offer.

Luc spoke, and in that instant all of her attention snapped back to him. The quelling of the raw and base by desires of the higher order. An agreement struck in her mind, for instinct was served just as well by shadowing Luc as those guards.

More so.

So much more so.

Yes. They would be off to The Midnight Dream tavern. Luc with both pendants, all the burden willingly taken on by him. The casting off of the shackles of the blackmail all within his hands. The transformation and discoveries of the self inherent in the delivering all his to take upon himself.

"You will be careful," Anima said. "Won't you?"

He waved her forward, and across the roofs they went.

It was almost done.

Wasn't it?

* * * * *​

The Midnight Dream. A fine tavern located on the corner of a large intersection in a wealthier part of Merchant District, away from the common hawkers and crowded open air markets and the buildings of shoddier construction.

Walter stood outside and to the side of the front doors of the tavern, a cheap pipe in his mouth, smoking. A veneer of orange against the dark of night he could see down one of the streets of the intersection.

He'd told Claire. She and Kha were set. Ready. Now the pendants just needed to be delivered. And this could all be done.

His hand shook as he took hold of the pipe.

He was a good man.

He was.
 
Kara had been sitting in Maho Sparhawk’s class. Doodling. She hardly looked up from the parchment she drew on – even as Trait Kerren protested against the lesson Sparhawk gave. Well, until Sparhawk informed the class of the end of the lecture. She quickly packed her belongings and walked out of the room as the very young student asked Sparhawk another question.



Later at night, the College began to stir as news about several city fires spread. When Kara heard about it, she was in the middle of the mess hall having dinner. She paused eating for a moment. She stared blankly at her food.

Then, Kara got up and left her half-eaten meal. She quickly made her way toward the entrance of the college. When she made it outside to the College grounds, she looked up to see the Great Ward activate.

At the College's gate, a gargoyle blocked her path just at the exit to the grounds.

You may not leave,” it told Kara.

After a second’s pause, Kara asked, “Why can’t I leave?

No students are allowed out without permission from professors,” the gargoyle informed Kara – echoing Phillipa’s command.

Kara grinded her teeth, then said, “Where can I find Lady Ebonheart?
 
Phillipa stood in her office, washing her face as a gargoyle appeared in her doorway once more. Her glance was all the tacit permission it needed to speak.

"The student Kara Orin has attempted to leave and has asked for your location. The professor, Maho Sparkawk has left the grounds." The gargoyle spoke quickly.

"Everyone is so eager to be out and about this evening. Allow Kara Orin to leave, centralize the gargoyles around the basement vault and the inner courtyards. With the ward being up we don't need you all wandering around." She spoke concisely and flicked the water off of her hands.

"Again, lethal force permitted for anyone not identified. Single escorts for all professors and staff. Large gathering of students will also need an escort; herd any students that are not grouped together." Phillipa hissed. She wasn't sure of what was happening just yet, but with the ward being activated, she had gone ahead and assumed either an attack or something akin to one.

"What's the goal though?" She muttered thinking aloud, hands on the porcelain bowl of warmed water as she stared into the mirror.

"Undetermined. As of yet nothing has been found on the grounds." The gargoyle spoke in the same bland tone.
 
Gloves in hand, Alistair furrowed his brow as he considered his orders. There were plenty of mages at the college to combat the blaze, but nobody was doing anything about locating the source of the plague and destroying it. Mouth agape, Alistair released a regretful sigh and shook his head, soaking his gloves, apron and tools in disinfectant.

"Lord mage, I'm afraid I must refuse," he stood up straight and looked the older mage in the eye, "Maho and the other Professors are well trained to combat but the blaze, but I must stay here with my patients," staring the old mage sternly in the eye, Alistair grabbed a fresh apron and tied it around his waist, tucking his robes in his belt.

The old mage stared at him and gasped. Eyes narrowing, he retained his composure, straightened his robes and nodded, "very well Wren, I'll assign you to locating the source of the plague and destroying it," he said, then waved a hand towards the door.

"Thank you Master, rest assured I will," Alistair nodded.

Tying his mask around his head, he grabbed his case and walked outside of the cabin. Patients were crying out as mages rushed too treat them. Case in hand, he carried it over to a man laying by the edge of the ship and set it down.

Beyond the spires of the city, an orange glow tinged the sky, reflecting in the surface of the water surrounding the ship. Kneeling down by the man, Alistair opened his case and grabbed a small knife. The man panted and shook, his body gripped with fever. Eyes peering over the edge of his mask, Alistair worked in silence. The man raised his head and panted, struggling to speak.

"Are you from the college?" He asked, sweat dripping off his forehead.

"Yes," Alistair nodded, then turned around to face him, "hold still, I need to take a sample of blood," he said, knife in hand.

"Of course, Lord mage, and bless you," the man said and lay down as Alistair told him to do.

Kneeling over the man, Alistair took his hand and sliced his palm with the knife. He collected his blood in vial, which he put away in his case. Once he had all the blood he needed, he disinfected the mans's wound with a potion and wrapped it up in a bandage. He pulled his blanket over him, lay him down, grabbed his case and stood.

"Thank you," he said, sternly, professionally, as though the well-being of the men on the ship was his highest concern.
 
"Master Sparhawk, thank god you're here! M-master Sparhawk?"

"Sparhawk, sir?"

"Hey! What are you doing?!"

Sparhawk waved his hand in the air, asking for a minute. He was so out of breath, he was spitting up phlegm all over the floor; he was probably the least athletic person in the whole of Elbion, and he knew Sorcerers who'd probably eaten meals larger than him.

Oh god... Phew... Wheeze

"Right... Okay-" He took a very deep breath, letting out a large, tired exhale, the cold-air misting his breath.

As he looked up, he noticed the three young mages look down at him. All of them were fairly well built, looking like they must've been in their mid-twenties at a stretch. It was common for Sorcerers in Elbion to choose defending the town and working within Elbion, rather than travelling out and seeing what Arethil has to offer. Each had their own advantages, clearly, but it definitely wasn't Sparhawk's cup of tea.

"Sparhawk, Are- Are you alright?" One of the Sorcerers asked, concerned. He was in a dark-red robe, most likely a symbol of specialisation within the Pyromancy field.

"Yes- Yes, i'm... i'm fine." He stood up, patting himself down, wiping a small glob of sweat from his forehead.

"So, how's the-" He looked up to the sky, and saw thefires. Not much had been done, far less than he'd expected, still spreading from house to house, hordes of people running towards the college or out of town, likely looking for some kind of protection.

"What's happened?!" He asked, almost outraged.

"There's too much fire to put out Master Sparhawk! There's not enough Pyromancers here to deal with the raging inferno!" The second Pyromancer said, terrified. He looked the youngest of the trio, early twenties. He had fear on his face, likely scared by the realties of what fire can do when applied by someone with the wrong intentions.

"Have you thought of using a Rain Conjuration?" He asked, calmly.

The three looked at one another, a grimace on each one of their faces. They looked back at Sparhawk, they're teeth pressed together, all walking on the spot awkwardly.

Pyromancers...

"Alright, I assume you all remember the Rain Con-"
They all looked at each-other awkwardly again as he spoke.

I don't get paid enough for this.

Sparhawk looked frustrated, angry even. He furiously pulled his staff off his back, and pointed into the air, towards the sky above the fires.

"AGUO TOH IMATO!" He screamed, his voice sounding as if it was lifted from the sky itself.

Then, as the end of his staff lit, a bolt of lightning crackled from it's end, an eye-shattering light soaring off into the sky, it's snap echoing across Elbion. As it entered the clouds, they greyed, all collecting from different parts of the sky. Then, as hoped, a heavy rain poured from heavens, falling on the hoods of the Pyromancers, and matting down Sparhawk's messy hair. And, as expected, it fell on the roofs of the thatched houses. Though it would take time to take down the fires, it's blanketing of the sky would hopefully deal with any fires propping up, and hopefully save some lives.

"That should deal with some of the Fire, but travel further west, as the clouds won't reach that far." He spoke, making sure the information was imperative to the Pyromancers.

"O- Of course, Thank you Maester Sparhawk. Are you returning to the College?" They asked.

"Yes..." More running. Great.
 
The wall in front of Nayella crumbled, stone falling to pieces and breaking apart as her fingers gently pried away the bricks.

She tried to be as quiet as possible, not wanting to set off any of the wards that she still laid in place. Her hands moved quickly, until finally there was a hole large enough for her to crawl through. Slowly she pressed her lithe form through the breach, falling onto the ground with a muted thud.

Lips thinned as pain lanced through her rear, hand rubbing as she pulled herself off the ground.

The College itself seemed quiet, though she knew that alerts would be everywhere.

No doubt laid in her mind that getting to the Vault would be all but impossible, yet she hoped the fire and her companions would at least draw enough attention to give her a shot. The Blight Witch tightened her fingers, a small incantation ringing from her lips.

Light bent around her slightly, not cloaking her, but allowing her to remain in the shadows even beneath a torch.

It was a trick she had learned months ago, from a Lich no less.

Grimacing slightly the Witch moved forward, stepping through the winding halls of the College. Every corner she stopped, and every little bit of movement caused her to halt.

Then she reached a stairwell, two gargoyles standing to either side. She froze, stopping as she pondered her next step.
 
The wind guides you. It's language is known to you. Follow the current Storm Child.. The voice inside of the amulet... No.. His head, spoke to him and told him to follow. And follow he did, guided by winds of destiny itself as the currents went from a mere gentle breeze against his flesh to something else.

He. Saw. It.

Like delicate ribbons used to bind gifts, they sprang to life before him. Twisting and turning, dipping low to the street below before rising once more past the roof tops and into the heavens, the currents of wind that flowed through the city announced themselves. It was utterly breathtaking viewing such a spectacle laid out before them suddenly as it spray to life. It was as if the northern lights descended to fall upon Elbion itself at that very moment. He wished he could have shared it with her as he took her hand in his and squeezed. This vision of beauty...

Unbeknownst to himself, his eyes glowed a bright blue as he pooled mana into his body. He was using magic he hadn't realized he could. Evidence that the pendant, not either one he had to deliver but rather the one he stole from his old master, was hard at work filling him with it's knowledge. He slowed their advance, following a current which flowed past them and moved to the edge of the building. The current itself spiraled downward to a alley and instinct took over as e pulled her close to his lithe frame and with his free hand, touched the current... And they were off!

It wasn't like the hex he had cast moments before, a burst of wind that sent them flying in one direction. Oh no no! This was controlled, pulling them as if they were leaves upon a stream moving down river. In the blink of an eye they went from the roof to the alley below and once his boots met the cobbled pavement, he released his hold on the current and came to a casual slow stop.

"Wow..." he said in amazement as he looked at his hand. For a moment, it burned brightly with energy before it died out, and Luc realized he lost sight of the currents, their beautiful bluish green hues fading before him. As to did his eyes return to normal.

"Just up ahead... We turn the Midnight Dream into a Nightmare..." Or so he believed. Why else would they be here?

"Dearest Anima... Ready yourself... I know not will happen once I go there... I may need your help in escaping but if the situation is dire you are to leave... One of us must survive to enjoy this promised freedom and I will hear nothing more on this.. It's been decided... I will not have both of us surrender to darkness..." He spoke with a confidence that he was feeling eerily comfortable with. He was not the scared mouse he had been when he escaped Elbion. He felt it in his bones that he had changed.

He had spoken. All that was left was to kiss his index finger and place it against her on lips, a cute way to say farewell before he walked out of the alley and towards the tavern... And for some odd reason, all the way there he swore he tasted cherries...
 
And behold him now.

See how much in so short a time he has changed. This Luc who took her hand, who pulled her close, who dared instead of shied. Yes, the self was as treasure buried beneath the sand, waiting to be unearthed. And there lay no greater delight than guiding another to it, sharing in those moments of discovery both small and significant.

His blue eyes, made more so; lovely was their color. The great mysteries in the depths of the oceans or beyond the bounds of the sky encased therein. Anima and Luc flew on the wings of his wind magic and the blur of Elbion mattered little. She stared at those eyes whenever possible. Enthralled.

Down to the cobblestone of the alley, and away with the glow in Luc's eyes. Yet she knew it still to be there, for that beauty was encased in a jewel of memory all her own. Hers to become lost inside as it so pleased her whim.

The Midnight Dream.

She looked out of the alley and across the way of the intersection and illuminated in the night by candle and lantern it stood, the tavern they'd be tasked to deliver the pendants to.

Back to Luc. A smile as he said her name.

And she listened. A bristling of excitement as she let the clear confidence in his spoken words wash over her.

There would be no dispute, would there? His desire was her desire. For she basked in him. Yes.

"You have given--"

yourself over to him, haven't you?

Those remaining words unsaid as his finger touched her lips and surprise froze her. It was these small moments that could be hers now. Pure and raw. Unfiltered. That desire as experienced through Lydia and others, distinct from the platonic nature towards Peter and others who had fallen and joined her. The echoes of the obsession born in Ared'luin, the selfsame obsession found by Lydia and all those across Arethil who were bidden by their beating hearts to give themselves over to another.

She watched him go. Yearned for his return.

And there.

A strange feeling.

Creeping in the back of her mind. Intruding on her pleasant moment.

That feeling of being watched.

* * * * *​

Walter saw him. Luc, coming across the cobblestone intersection. He was the one Claire and her team had captured. He was alone, missing the other. Anima.

Walter swallowed. Lifted his pipe back to his mouth and smoked and the smoke did not expunge the dripping guilt in his chest.

He stared down at the ground as Luc went inside the tavern.

* * * * *​

The members of the Black Circle sat as five at a table in The Midnight Dream not unlike any of the other patrons. They wore mundane clothes and robes appropriate for their daytime work in Elbion or the College itself. They were men who were on the surface unremarkable. They ate their dinner and drank their ale like all the rest.

But they wore about their necks and tucked into their clothes certain pendants. Pendants which had encased within a covert and dark enchantment of their own devising.

And Luc carried into this proximity two other pendants, crafted by Khadija Han, laced with violent counter enchantments specific to the Black Circle's own.

A low humming as the pendants made by Han and in Luc's possession vibrated. Heated up. Cracked.

The members of the Black Circle did not notice until it was too late. One of their number looked down at his own chest and then as if spurred on by his gaze alone the reaction occurred and it was both his misfortune and his fate that his would be the most catastrophic of all the five as a spray of purple flame burst forth from his shirt and engulfed his head and rushed all the way to the ceiling above and scorched the wood with a corrupting purple and melted it on contact and there came straight down a rain of pestilent, scalding purple droplets that once were organic and beautiful and of Arethil but now had been changed in whole to something of abject abhorrence. The man's body slumped from his chair and the flesh and bone of his face slid off the remainder of his skull and pooled on the floor where it mixed with the purple rain of liquefied and transformed wood and became indistinguishable from it.

His was not the only death. His fellow of the Black Circle, seated next to him, struggled to remove his pendant and he jerked in his chair as the purple rain fell over the Black Circle's table and burned holes in his robes and he panicked and slapped at his arms and his face and his head and he fell from his chair and landed on his back and his hands were covered in the steaming purple liquid as the pendant on his chest burned through his ribcage and sank into and through his heart and in the unholy smoke rising from the holes in his robes there existed all he had ever known and what little he had loved, dispersing and dissipating into the air of the tavern.

The other three members of the Circle had all stood or fell or rolled from their seats and struggled mightily and succeeding in varying degrees to remove the volatile pendants from about their necks and throw them--smoking and steaming and rippling with unnatural arcane fire and tendrils of unleashed and provoked magic--to the tavern floor.

Smoke filtered out through the crack in one of the pendants Luc carried. A haze of purple and the faint reek of putrefaction.

And the panic from all the other patrons inside The Midnight Dream became palpable. Bedlam followed.

* * * * *​

The magical etchings on the iron door faded.

Kha smacked Claire on the arm with the back of her hand and said, "Look! Look!"

Claire glanced up and smirked and flicked her hair and said, "Oh, how pristine, they've done it! I didn't have any doubts at all."

"Help me with the door."

They turned the large handle and Kha and Claire both could feel the bolt retracting from the jamb. And together they pulled and pulled and the door they had been waiting for weeks to open finally did so.

Kha and Claire looked inside. Their smiles and elation fading and disappearing when they saw her.

They knew her only as "the Vicar," for that was what the members of the Black Circle called her. Here in the basement and entombed in the arcane laboratory locked behind the iron door the Vicar hung affixed with rope at her wrists and her ankles to a large and worn wooden crucifix in the center of the room. She wore only a blindfold. Her elven face a visage of calm bliss.

And a creature protruded from an open wound in her chest. The thing like an enormous, bloated leech, the lengthy excess of its body going up and over her right shoulder and dangling freely down by the small of her back. The thing white in near entirety, save for flecks of formless black scattered about its body. The "Symbiote," the Black Circle called it.

And the Symbiote's body convulsed.

"What do we do?" Claire said. Voice small and fragile. "What do we do?"

"This isn't right. We weren't ready for something like this," Kha said.

Eight thick and impossibly massive spider legs erupted from the Symbiote's body and thrashed and flailed for purchase upon the floor and the walls and the ceiling of the laboratory.

"Run!" Kha said. "Just run!"

Kha and Claire turned and ran back up the stairs and behind them a terrible snapping of wood and a great clattering of falling things and many shatterings of glass. They ran through the main room of the Senior's house and heard it coming behind them. Kha threw open the door to the house and both she and Claire dived out of the way as the front of the house exploded into a shower of debris as the creature burst forth from it.

Kha saw it. Skittering across the street and up onto another house and across roofs and moving with frightening speed. The Vicar upon her crucifix like the body of the nightmarish spider as its deep black legs clutched and clawed and shifted at a blurring pace.

And the creature moved in a particular direction across the roofs and walls of Elbion.

Directly toward The Midnight Dream.
 
The young man sprinted through the Residential District trying avoid the screaming citizens. There were some people nursing what appears to be second or third degree burns on the streets and some of them coughing loudly. Willis frowned rushing up the stairs until he looked and saw an ember heading straight for his head. "Fuck!" the young man rolled out of the way as the heated rock landed on the floor in front of the feet of a shrieking Elf woman.

Willis slowly got up and shook his head. "Why am I even doing this?" he said. "I'm not getting paid." more embers fell from the sky like hail hitting the ground with high velocity. Some poor souls who were running from the fire got pelted by them they fell down writhing in pain and crying out to their Gods, lovers or parents. The young man leaned against the concrete wall his teeth seething. "If this fire has been started by someone," Willis grumbled. "They better pray I don't find them."

Once the coast was clear, Willis ran through the district as he entered the smoke. The young man's vision inhibited and he found himself running in the darkness. It was a good thing Willis knew the roads well even though it was full of screaming people, debris and falling fireballs. "At least I know where I'm going," he said.

More fire balls rained from the sky with some of them singing Willis' red vest. He could feel the heat kissing his dark skin causing Willis to retract a bit. It felt as though he was dodging fire spells fired by a mage, Willis imagined that in an effort to try evade the embers. "It was probably caused by a mage anyway," Willis said. "This has gotta be the biggest fire in Elbion history."

A house was ahead looking like in shambles and there were more fireballs launched. The young man gritted his teeth as he sought cover in the house. Only to run into a woman. "Shit! Willis landed on his back his tailbone feeling sore. Groaning, Willis slowly got up and helped the woman. "Sorry!" he said. "Are you all rig-"

He recognized that woman.

"Claire?!" Willis said helping her up. "Are you okay?! What are you doing here?!"

Anima