Open Chronicles From the Ashes

[Rob Yew]

Magma jetted from the bowels of the earth in a bright red-orange miasma flecked with black rock, glowing and viscus. Roiling heat and the stink of sulfur suffused the air. The lava sprayed out, like blood geysering from a severed artery. The roof above exploded, ripped apart by the fountain of molten rock. Timbers came tumbling down. Entire tables disappeared beneath sheets of shimmering liquid that clung where they landed and burned. Men coated in the stuff rolled around, their clothing bursting into flame, and they were consumed. The heat of the lava set portions of the floor on fire, which began to crawl out and up the walls, until the inn began to burn as hot and fierce as a Molthal forge.

Where Duvain had stood was only a half-dome of rock, coated with drying lava upon one half. The rock began to crumble away, revealing the Dreadlord beneath in his suit of darkly etched plate. Unharmed.

“She is getting away,” he rasped to Yves above the screams of burning men and popping wood.

Striding through fume and flame, he threw aside an oaken table as though it weighed nothing and continued out through the front door, his still sheathed sword gripped in one hand.

 

[Gylfi Runarsson]

A wave of molten earth loomed over Yves. The swords that aimed at the crimson-haired Dreadlord dissolved, scattering into numerous silver-ish particles. As the wave of magma came down on Yves, seeking to consume the young man, his eyes flashed blue again. A large shield, rectangular in shape, appeared before him. The semi-liquid earth coated the floating shield in front of Yves, leaving the man himself untouched.

"She is getting away," His mentor spoke and without hesitation strode through the hellscape in front of them.

The young Dreadlord grabbed his helmet off the floor and followed behind Duvain. The shield which had blocked the magma disappeared and the now-drying lava fell to the floor.

"We would be mindful of the rooftops," Yves called out as they passed through the inn's door, "That cunning Selene certainly has invited us into an ambush."

 

[Selene Avar]

Behind her the Tavern was already falling into a pile of burning rubble. The floors had been set aflame, most of the tables had been consumed, and those stuck inside were not long for life.

Selene knew this.

Back in the days when she'd studied at The Academy a lesson had been taught to her, as it had been taught to many of their rank; do what you must.

It was a simple enough concept, and described an attitude that most Dreadlords were forced go hold. They were not diplomats, they were not gallant Knights standing as a bulwark, they were the ones who got things done. It was the Dreadlords who had won wars for Vel Anir, the Dreadlords who had made the cities dominance possible. How had they done it? By putting the mission first.

What was a few deaths in the grand scheme. There were always more peasants. They bred like rats.

Selene stepped out of the Tavern, her face visibly twisted in anger as the flames behind her rose higher. She could hear screams though ignored them for the most part. Her gaze darted upwards towards the archer still on the building across, her lips thinning she she made a single motion with her hand. The archer nodded, knowing to take his shot at the first possible moment. His steel song bow would kill, but only if it had the opportunity to do so.

Magic pooled within her a second later as she headed left down the street.

She needed a better position.

The power that welled within her slowly seeped into the ground below. Heat and fire consuming rock as something began to twist and stir beneath the earth. As she walked the ground seemed to rise up, molten lines of lava streaking into a great serpent made of stone and fire. It slithered into being besides her, the great familiar rising up and curling its body around Selene as she turned.

She set herself down the street from burning tavern, directly in the middle of a town square that lead Into four different streets.

It wasn't time to run, not just yet.

 

[Isabeau]

The screams above radiated off of the stone walls of the tunnel in which she had found herself, the dinner in her belly was now starting to sour from the idea in her head of what was happening to the victims above. She took in deep breaths through her nasal cavity, filling her lungs and exhaling slowly, to try and keep herself calm.

Issy’s palms her pressed flat against the narrow cool stone walls that were on either side of her. The bracing herself on the hard surfaced helped keep her balance as she spirals down into further darkness of this secret area. The chaos and all its terror above her, slowly faded away.

A slow dripping sound of into the distance would cut the deafening silence, as the final step Issy had reached, the soft muffled sound her slippers made on the hard floor, also echoed a bit, the feeling here was cold and damp, a shiver moved up her body and out of instinct she hugged her form for warmth.

She had to get out of here.

“This way Poppet?” A cold breeze tickled her ear, from the disembodied voice.

“I don’t want ya catching a cold now, I mean I wouldn’t mind a pretty little thing like you, keeping me company, but then again, its not your time it seems.” The cool breath moved to her other ear.

“Come on girl, this way.” The obvious was a spirit talking to her, she was relieved in away, but then again, this spirit could be leading her to an untimely end. She had no choice she had to follow him.

“Th, thank you.” Her teeth chattered a little bit from the chill in the air, and the fact she just came extreme heat and now cold, the shock can do this to you.

“Whom do I have the pleasure of guiding me to safety.” She asked.

“Oh, right, Peter Swallows Ma’am, at your service.” The spirit proudly said. The only warmth now was Issy’s smile as she nodded her head.

“I won’t lie miss, I am a quite mad at your friends up there, I would be right now enjoying a nice pint of ale and be having my way with a tavern wench, if they hadn’t killed everyone, monsters.” The spirit spitted.

“I saw you though, I saw you enter, pretty little thing, I would have talk to you Poppet but, the company you were with, well, I guess I was right.”

Issy’s expression turned into a sorrowful one, at how Peter had lost his life needlessly, but then again, the way he stated he saw her, did bored the alarm area.

“I’m truly sorry that this happen to you, I can promise when I get out of here, I can help you to move on if you like?” The sorrow now turned back into a loving manner, as the spirit continued navigated through the maze of this tunnels. There was a sudden quietness and then.

“Naw, thanks miss but I won’t lie, I am sort of enjoying this freedom, I might stay this while for a little longer, thanks though, but I warner you, there are others that aren’t as nice, lets just say, that will want to help.” There was a brief pause.

“They are very angry people, specially from what happened in the tavern, they somehow shifted into something dark, they’ll find you miss, and It wouldn’t be good, once they know what you can do.” Her hair which was already standing up on end, now goosebumps paired with her hair warning her and dread filled her.

She’d have to make sure to get to her items quickly, to protect herself. She felt tired before, but now she felt even more drained from the situation with her traveling companions. It was taking a toll on her, as her body ached and did her heart.

She had a lot to think on, but now she had to survive.

“Thank you, Peter, may I ask where we are going?”

 

[Rob Yew]

Helmet donned, Duvain presented a faceless mass of metal to the world. Humorless. Pitiless. As bland as the gray and white checkered tabard he wore. As unfeeling as the steel. His own breath sounded cacophonous within the helm, despite the screams coming from behind him and the roar of the consuming flame.

"She has," he rasped, in answer to Yves.

In the sky above, lightning flashed and thunder crashed. The heavens opened their floodgates. Rain poured down, dousing the burning inn. The droplets sizzled as they met the fire, but their tide soon smothered the flames, like bodies filling up a breach.

The rain pattered against his helmet. Duvain peered through the slit in his visor that had narrowed his vision to a thin line and tried to stare through the haze.

Where was she?

Suddenly, he felt energy coursing from the earth, full of raw fury and a tidal wave of rage.

There.

"And we will spring it," he rasped over the thunder and rain, "See to the rooftops. Leave the Scarlet to me."

He turned slowly and began striding down the street until he saw her ahead in the midst of a town square. She stood alone in that empty square, wreathed by a serpent of seething magma, waiting for him.

Wordlessly, Duvain drew his hiltless blade and tossed the sheath aside. He strode forward until he stood in the square, staring at the serpent, which sizzled softly in the rain.

"I see you have mastered your Heraldic Charge. Impressive. Your rise to the First Level will be swift."

 

[Gylfi Runarsson]

Yves nodded and followed close behind his mentor for a moment. Duvain suddenly split off, both Dreadlords now resolved to complete their tasks.

Yves spotted movement on the rooftops through the veil of rain that came down. His pace gradually increased, and he approached the wall of a building across from the now-destroyed inn. A slow walk ended in a sprint, each step carrying him farther into the air. As he made each step, a sword would appear under his boot as a foothold, allowing the Second Rank to find himself on level footing with the many archers that lined the rooftops. His eyesight was keen and could roughly make out the enemy's numbers through the rain. Given that none had fired on Duvain or Yves as they exited, he concluded that their positions were obscure to their would-be attackers.

Good.

He took a low posture, hand on the tiled roof to maintain balance, and slowly made his way towards the archers. He would stretch to cross gaps, and gaps too large to cross would be managed easily as he constructed impromptu bridges with the incorporeal swords.

He glanced down at Duvain as he tossed his sheath aside. His focus then went back to the archers. By their silhouettes, he could tell the town's guard from the Anirians that the Scarlet brought. He gathered his magic deep in his core, feeling a power surge through his limbs. He prepared to spring himself at the archers.

Duvain was indeed strong, yet having to worry about arrows rain down from above would put him at a considerable disadvantage.

Yves was resolved to ease his burden, then join him in the fight against the crimson-haired Dreadlord.

 

[Selene Avar]

The fact that Duvain was even allowed to speak made Selene fume with anger.

Her orders had been so simple that even a dumb and deaf elf could have followed them. She'd wanted Duvain, or even the other one pierced with an arrow the moment they showed themselves outside of the Tavern.

Still, she let none of that show on her face. Instead she watched as two figures left the burning husk of a building. One turned towards her, the other towards the alleyways nearby. At least the fools will be punished for not obeying.

Selene thought to herself as one figure she recognized as Duvain walked towards her. The armor was a dead give away.

He called out to her, his voice a rasp that was barely able to be heard over the sound of hissing steam striking her familiar. The great serpent tightened slightly around her, it's coiling body standing in protection. The heat didn't seem to bother her one bit.

"Rise?" She mused out loud as she called to him. "I am already there, darling."

Her words rang out above the growing storm. "Your death will prove it."

It was in that moment that the Anirian Knight finally gathered his wits. The others were too busy staring, perhaps wrapped up in their own little worlds, but the man with the sung-steel bow did as he had been commanded.

There was no sound as the metal string of the bow snapped and released it's black arrow. It cut through the air like a knife, heading directly towards Duvain and seeking to impale his heart.

For the others it seemed to be a call to life, some of them scrambling to draw arrows while others pulled their swords from scabbards.

 

[Isabeau]

Issy, wasn’t given an answer to her question right away, which didn’t help the concern that built up in her like a geysers waiting to burst, that and maybe this was a bad decision to follow a spirit, but then again Peter did warn her of the danger, so he couldn’t be all bad right?

The idea that those whom lost their lives, could form such negativity into something that could possibly harm someone in general, was blood chilling. The twists and turn’s led Issy down another damp, tunnel that was flooded with the sound of dripping.

“Your almost their Poppet.” The voice came in a cool brush of air across her ear. She tucked her bottom lip under her top teeth in a gesture of trying to keep calm. She gently raised her hands out in front of her stepping forward slowly, to make sure she didn’t hit or trip over anything; Long fingers gently touched the rough surface of the stone wall, it was cool, and slightly slimy from the after math of whatever dripped from above.

Isabeau prayed it was water, but her prayers weren’t answered as the aroma of urine began to not only come from the wall, but her hand. She took in a deep breath as she felt more along the wall and then a wooden feeling post was there and then a slate which was connected diagonal to another horizontal post.
Was this a latter?

She began to move her hand above her too see if there were more diagonal wooden slates, and there were more, yes this was a latter. She quietly moved up the latter, the smell of urine grew more, she wrinkled her nose as she climbed higher until.

“Stop there luv, now reach up and push the door open, oh, and good luck.” The chill once more zipped down her spine.

Issy, raised her hands above her head, her palms gently pressed against what appeared to be another wooden hidden door. The wood felt well warn and there were small grooves where the obvious urine had seemed through.

What was above her?

She’d soon find out as she pushed it open, it was heavy and still made a slow creek sound as she uncovered this mysterious place. The smell of above began to hit her like a hammer, it was the smell of animals, not just any animals it was the smell of horse manure. She was almost knocked back, but she kept her grip and pushed her way through, into the stables?

She stopped a moment as she waited to hear if she was in a stall but not hearing a horse moving above her, she quickly pulled herself up and out of the hole. Peter had led her to the stable, she had no idea if it was the stable in which she had guided Gabby too.

 

[Rob Yew]

Duvain frowned, head canting slightly to one side. The rain pinged off his armor. He turned slightly, glancing up to the rooftops.


Where-

A black iron shaft cut through the rain. Steel plate rung like a struck gong. Duvain grunted in pain and surprise and glanced down. The breastplate had been punctured just above the heart, near the clavicle, metal twisted inward, pushed into the gambeson and flesh beneath. He felt blood hot on his back, where the shaft had exited his body.

Raw magic pulsated within Duvain, imbuing him with the fortitude of granite to shunt aside the concerns of his tortured flesh and focus on the task at hand.

He grimaced beneath his helm. Any ordinary shaft would’ve burst into splinters at the force of the impact, but this had gone straight through him and out the other side. Only one thing in the arsenal of Anir could do such damage to plate and it was no crossbow. A black arrow, forged of a single ingot of iron and fired from a sung steel bow.

An inch was all that had spared him from death.

The Archons must truly want his corpse.

Arrows began to rain down upon him, hissing out of the rain like falling vipers, but these splintered and burst upon his armor, pelting him like so much hail. The Tenebrus Knight grit his teeth and delved deep to draw upon his power. The fingers of his off hand curled into a fist.

The ground shuddered with a sudden earthquake. Flagstones fractured. Nearby houses trembled, wood splintering, foundations wobbling. With a groan, solid walls of earth rose to block off all routes out of the square.

Then he came for her with a blade as ancient as any city and a hungering edge that howled above wind and rain as it sought to slake itself in her blood.

 

[Gylfi Runarsson]

Yves' breath halted for a moment as he watched the arrow fly through the rain, disrupting the veil that the downpour created. It had cleanly hit Duvain, smoothly penetrating his armor and easily passing through his flesh. The arrow hit the ground behind the First Rank Dreadlord, but the man remained standing.

Yves did not halt, instead standing upright and now hastily moving across the rooftops. He wipes his eyes and quickly slid his helmet on. Four swords flashed into existence over his shoulders.

Then, the earth tremored. His footing became unsure, and a tile that became loose from the earthquake caused Yves to slip and slam down against the roof. He heard the shouts of men, some fell, others barely managed to keep their position.

Before the archers could regain composure, Yves was already on his feet and dashed towards the first man. Ignoring the couple arrows that splintered against his armor, he lashed out and grasped the guard's face before he could react. He shoved the man aside and continued to dash past. As he did, one of the summoned swords effortlessly passed through his midsection and took its place back above Yves' shoulder. The man's corpse hit the tile roof and slid to the earth below.

 

[Selene Avar]

A smile flickered across Selenes face as she saw the black iron arrow slide through Duvain's armor, only for it to instantly disappear the moment he started moving again.

"Useless." She muttered as she glanced up towards the rooftop.

In the bare light of the night she spotted the Archers being torn into by the Nobling. His magic cut through the rain as it did bodies, the young Dreadlord making short work of some of the City Watch that she had summoned to aid her. Most of them began to flee as they realized what they faced, their fear evident as they dropped their weapons and darted towards the edges of the roof tops.

Typical.

The Anirian Knight acted fast in response. Unlike the cowards of the city watch they knew their fate. The Knights drew their blades and raised their shields, three of them moving forward in simultaneous attacks on the Dreadlord. Hopping from other roof tops with trained balance.

Selene turned her gaze to Duvain. She knew that she had to kill him before Yves finished with the Soldiers. There was only a slim chance of her surviving if the both of them got involved, but if she could kill one before the other joined in the fight…she could do it.

With a roar of shifting Earth Duvain charged at her. His blade sang through the rain, but it would not matter.

The snake that had coiled around her raised itself up, drawing back for just one second as Selene reached out and touched the serpent. The lines of red magma burned with a renewed intensity, and then the creatures Jaws fell open.

Selene and her familiar disappeared behind a wall of white hot flames.

It rolled out from the serpent like a wave, crashing against the ground and scorching the very air. Raindrops disappeared before they touched the fire, the heat rolling across the square directly towards the Charging Dreadlord.

 

[Isabeau]

A familiar sound of a whinny echoed along the stables, Issy’s head snapped toward the sound.

“GABBY!” Issy called out as she placed her hands out in front of her, guiding herself through stable, avoiding wooden barrels, haystacks and the like. The sound once more stomped and Whinnied again radiated through the other Equine sounds.

Soon, Isabeau stopped at a stall and gently ran her fingers along the wooden gate and gently embraced the cool metal of the latch and unhooked the gate pushing it open.

She moved into the stall and called again.

“Gabby?” The sound of muffled hooves clomping toward her, and a familiar warm muzzle in her hand, she gently smiled with relief as she knelt pulled Gabby toward her in a warm embrace.

“Oh, thank goodness you’re alright.” She then turned and called out for the boy.

“Hansel?” She shouted, and soon cold arms wrapped around her neck, she gently let go of Gabby and quickly grabbed the boy into a warm embrace. The boy was trembling, rightly so, there was a lot going on.

“I thought you were dead miss.” Stated the boy, Issy gingerly pulled the boy from her chest and gave him a soft smile.

“It’s not my time, just as its not yours or Gabby’s, now my dear . . .At the moment, our traveling companions are busy, would you care to help me?” She asked softly.

The boy nodded yes but then remembered.

“Yes, Miss, anything.” Again, her warm expression depends.

“We need to get out of here, now first is the cart still in this stable?”

“Yes, Miss.” She nodded.

“Good, now help me hook Gabby up to it.”

She hopped that her items where still within the cart. The boy would guide her toward the cart and up into the back, she felt around and soon her fingers toyed with a burlap sack that she recognized, quickly she pulled it toward her, and went through it.

Yes indeed, the items where still there, but each vial, jar and pouch she felt, wasn’t the one she was searching for. Her heart sunk deep within her chest as she, pulled her hand out of the bag.

“Hansel, where is the rest of my items?”

“M, Miss, I’m so sorry, but the stable master’s son. . .” The boy remained quiet as she didn’t need to know what had happened.

“I will tend to your black eye, when we are out of here, It’s not your fault.” She stated as she took in a deep breath, she’ll have to find an herbal shop quickly, if not, she’ll have to figure out another way to protect her and the two she was with.

Once Gabby was harnessed, she moved to the creature’s side.

“Get into the cart Hansel, we need to go.” She stated, but Hansel wasn’t ready to leave just yet.

“The master’s horses, they’ll need them.” He called to her. Issy took in a deep breath, she doubted they would need them, and if they did, they could simply get them, but the boy wouldn’t leave, his loyalty was pure and so.

“Go and get them and tie them to the side of the cart, we’ll take them out of here and leave them where, I am sure they’ll find them.”

She let out another breath, this was getting exhausting as she leaned against the cart. She had to figure out some way to defeat a horrible entity that she had never come across before, because of the two men who, for some reason walked the darker path.

She pinched the bridge of her nose and gently rubbed, trying to discourage a headache she knew was starting to form.

“Done Miss.” She stopped as the boy called to her, she could feel the vibrations of him climbing into the cart.

“Well done.” She stated hiding all the emotions she could leaving the warmth as a cloak.

A little help of the boy and Gabby Issy successfully guided them out the stable into the street and whatever adventure laid before them.

 

[Rob Yew]

The lone figure of the knight disappeared beneath the roaring wall of fire, blindingly bright. Suddenly, there came a concentrated gale of frigid wind, howling like wolves. The gust blew through the center of the flames, parting them like a fiery sea. Duvain strode up the middle, ironshod feet stomping upon charred flagstones. Steam curled from his rain-drenched tabard, the white and gray checkered cloth fluttering. Wrath of wind. Strength of stone.

“You have not seen what I have seen,” Duvain rasped beneath his helmet, the words reverberating, even as he bore down on her.

Lightning flashed above them.

“If only you knew.”

Thunder.

Duvain sought to reach striking distance.

 

[Gylfi Runarsson]

Watching the young Dreadlord fight was like watching a fluid, improvised dance. He moved with grace that one would not expect from a man of his size. The trained knights were a disciplined group and were certainly capable of cutting down most battlemages with their ruthless tactics.

They were not fighting a mere battlemage. Yves was unarmed, yet his swords swirled around him deflecting blows and slashing at the knights as if he possessed extra arms.

After struggling, the knights fell, all slain by the young Dreadlord.

He rushed the archer that drew a second arrow on the sung-steel bow. He was aiming at Duvain, but upon noticing Yves charging at him, the archer swiftly adjusted his aim and let loose the arrow. Yves raised his left hand and began to summon a shield, yet the arrow was far faster. It broke through the incomplete shield and tore through Yves’ hand, sending two fingers twirling through the air. The arrow grazed his shoulder and flew far behind him.

He quickly closed the distance on the archer, who had drawn his sword. Yves’ spectral blades tore through the archer with little resistance. He then turned his attention to the duel between Selene and Duvain.

 

[Selene Avar]

Selene's expression did not change a wink as Duvain parted the flames with a powerful gust of wind.

The serpent at her side kept it's jaw unhinged, white hot fire pouring forth in a continuous stream. The lines of magma burned in it's sized seemed to wax and wane through the moment, drawing brighter before dulling before returning to an almost dark glow.

Rain struck them both, though they seemed to ignore it entirely even as the droplets became heavier and heavier.

Selene watched as the Knight stepped forward, moving through the fire in a steady trudge. Her fingers tightened a moment, and then suddenly opened as she pulled her palm closer to herself.

There was a slight shift in the earth, and then the ground beneath Duvain opened.

Rock and stone flooded away, pulled into a slurry of heat and magma just beneath the earth.

 

[Rob Yew]

The earth opened up beneath Duvain and he fell into the pit of bubbling lava, sinking to his shins. The magma poured into every crevice of his armor and melted metal to flesh in mere moments. Yet Duvain did not cry out, propelled by his inhuman magics that blocked out all pain.

He stepped out from the pool, lava dripping from half-melted shinguards, and the rain hissed as it met the heated metal. One foot went in front of the other. Slowly. Steadily. He came for her, as implacable as a mountain. It seemed impossible that a man could go on when his legs had been so ruined by magma.

The wind continued to howl, splitting the stream of fire up the middle, growing in intensity and fury until it shrieked past Duvain like an edged blade, ripping cobblestones up from the ground and sending them hurtling toward Selene with all the force of a whirling tornado.

 

[Gylfi Runarsson]

The earth trembled. Under his feet, the roof shook and crumbled apart. Before it could fall to the road beneath, Yves reflexively grabbed the sung-steel bow and a handful of iron arrows. His footing was crumbling beneath him, but he nocked and drew an iron arrow. His left hand ached from holding the bow. Blood flowed from his hand and onto the grip. The rain obscured his vision, but he could see the shapes of the two Dreadlords below.

He stared down the arrow's shaft, aiming it at Selene. Around him, buildings were swallowed into the earth. With each passing second, his own survival could be questioned. Selene already had the advantage in her duel. Even if he joined his mentor, his own chance of survival was slim. If he supported from above, Duvain would most likely die regardless. Then, Yves' fate would most certainly be sealed.

Then, a most odious thought entered his mind. He deeply inhaled and drew the bow to its limit.

His aim adjusted, shifting off to the side. He let loose the iron arrow. The string chimed as it was released. The arrow whistled as it cut through the veil of rain. In an instant, it tore through the air and with no resistance penetrated the back of Duvain's helmet. Plate, bone, and flesh were ravaged from the iron arrow. It passed through the Dreadlord's head and lodged itself into the ground in front of Selene.

Duvain crumpled to the mud almost instantly, falling forward and never rising.

Yves left the roof, creating spectral blades under his feet as he descended to the ground. The tremors stopped. He approached Selene, and as he got closer, he became visible to her through the rain. Before she could speak, he threw the bow to her feet.

He only shook his head and with no emotion spoke to her, "Congratulations. You've killed Duvain le Sauvage. Your promotion to the First must be guaranteed, now."

 

[Selene Avar]

The cobbles had crashed against the serpent, scattered and broken upon the ground all around them. The magma had dispersed, cooled by the rain and untouched by her magic.

Duvain had been steps from her.

His blade had been drawn, his sword out. A strike was just an arms length from her form. The serpent had stretched to strike out, to defend it's master. Selene had reached for her own blade, but then it had happened.

A single arrow loosed.

A splatter of blood across her face.

It all happened so fast that the moment did not even register for a second. Her gaze fell onto the corpse in front of her, lips thinning, bright red eyes lingering on the corpse until a light shone within the storm. An ethereal sword formed, and upon it stepped a man.

Her gaze swept up towards him as he walked closer and closer, the serpent around her slowly lowering in an odd defensive stance until the man stood in front of her.

The words he spoke rang in her ears.

Her heart skipped a beat, her eyes lit up, but somehow she managed to keep the mask upon her face. She wanted to scream, she wanted to jump for joy. She wanted to acknowledge the truth of what she said, but at her core she knew it was not yet right.

Selene cast her eyes towards the body in front of her, then towards the man. Rain poured down, her voice barely breaking through the storm. "Yes."

She confirmed.

"Those involved will be rewarded." The Dreadlord tested the waters. What did he want? What would he ask for? Why had he done this? "Though it is a shame that Wiesburg did not survive."

 

[Gylfi Runarsson]

Yves raked three fingers through his wet hair, for he was missing his pinky and ring finger on the hand, and slicked his hair back. Even in these conditions, he was still quite handsome.

He liked Duvain. He felt that he could relate to his mentor. Both hated the noble houses. Duvain was always kind with Yves. But, this was the way. Yves could die now, or later. He chose later.

"He was powerful. Incredibly powerful. His death will send ripples." He coldly looked into her eyes, "I can only imagine the stories. The Earthquake felled by Selene the Scarlet, who left the battle unscathed. It'll do well for you." He suddenly thought of the benefits and potential dangers of popularity for Dreadlords. "Or not."

He shrugged the thought aside, "And, Weisburg. Who cares, really?"

With a deep sigh, he raised his hands and shrugged again. "Perhaps Proctorship would better fit me?"

 

[Isabeau]

The once calm busy streets were now echoed with the sounds of the disaster that was happening a good distance from Issy and the boy. It was happening in the middle of the bus city, which was a good thing as with most people running toward the direction that seem to want to stop it, others were scampering to their homes.

She sighed as the pit of her stomach was sending all sorts of warnings, dread was one of them. Her lips thinned as she encouraged the boy to continue, it was obvious that she wasn’t going to find an apothecary open today, not with the battle going on.

It was time for drastic measures, she’s going to go forge for the ingredients in the forest, this wasn’t going to be easy but then again, she does have the lad to help. Also, not like she couldn’t call on the spirits to help.

A chill began to form in her stomach and move through her limbs and then digits, the idea she’d call to another spirit frightened her, it would mean there was a more of a chance this dark entity would find her.
At this moment the memory of her traveling companions was now an annoyance then anything. She leaned back and closed her lids, there was no choice, she had to call on the spirits to help get them out of here.

Opening her lids, she concentrated on her breathing, deep in hales and slow exhales moved through her nostrils and out her lips. It became rhythm until a tingling sensation began to grow in her belly and move throughout her body.

The darkness was calm in her mind but soon she’d interrupted as she called out to the spirits for help, just like a fisherman with a fishing pole she cast her line and waited for the fish. It took a little time but soon the hair would start standing up on the back of her neck and goosebumps began to form along her arms.

It was signs she was familiar with, then a feeling of dread and sadness again, a voice called she recognized it instantly and her face turned white. It was the lord, her traveling companion, he must have not won the battle.

The feeling he was giving off wasn’t fear no it was frustration and sorrow and then a cool breeze moved past her ear. Issy’s expression turn to confusion as the words spoken in her ear made no sense to her, was he wanting her to tell someone, did the other traveler live.

Just as the spirit came, the spirit was gone, for good. She softly as sympathy washed over her, cleaning her from the dread that threatened her with the promise of bile exiting her belly. It was a few moments before she regained herself and tried again for another spirit.

This time, a feeling of warmth moved around her, and a soft breeze flowed within her ear. It whispered of a slim chance she could get out of this place; she spoke mentally with the spirit and followed the directions given to her.

 

[Selene Avar]

Proctorship?

For a very brief moment Elise couldn’t help but frown. What kind of a person would volunteer themselves for a position like that? It was a place for those Dreadlords too old to fight, too broken down to be of much use anywhere.

Some Proctors were strong in their own right, but it was not a place of ambition. Yves must have had a plan of some sort, an idea on how to exploit such a place to his own gain.

Was it worth it? Yes.

She would take her place among the First, she would take what belonged rightfully to her and then she would step even further. It did not matter if Yves pulled every Apprentice of the next decade to his side.

Not when she would rule it all. ”The Academy will welcome such an addition.”

Selene would make sure of it.

Her head slowly swiveled around, red eyes casting over the square until she found what she needed. A snap rang out within the empty space, and then suddenly fire exploded outwards behind Yves.

Then another in front of him. Then another to their right. Within just a few heartbeats Wiesburg began to burn.

Selene turned, making no motion for Yves to follow, but leaving him a path through the flames behind her.

 

[Gylfi Runarsson]

He didn’t flinch when his surroundings erupted. Nor did he mind the flames. First he leaned down to pick up the sung-steel bow. It was much too valuable to leave behind. He followed Selene after a moment, catching up to her. He watched her, but there was no malice behind his eyes.

“Yes, well, being a Proctor would at least save me from circumstances like this,” He waved a hand, gesturing to the flames around them. He truly feared and respected Selene, possibly even more than he did Duvain.

“I don’t have grand ambitions like you, whatever you may be planning- I don’t care to know.” He leaned forward to somewhat meet her height. His mouth was open to speak more, but no words came. He straightened up and walked in silence.

It took little time for them to leave the village. They stood outside the burning walls and Yves breathed in the fresh air. He should have been uneasy walking so close to Selene. After loosing the arrow on a former friend, and mentor, all care seemed to leave him.

“I don’t know what value it would have,” He finally spoke, “But if my future position as a Proctor would serve you... I would be in no place to refuse you.”

 

[Selene Avar]

Selene was understand suspicious of Yves words, mostly because he had just executed his former mentors in cold blood.

Such practices were not uncommon among their kind, but the idea that he would ingratiate himself with her so quickly set off more than a few alarm bells. It was only natural. Yet as always, Selene could not ignore an opportunity when she saw it.

Ambition was her pride, and she would use everything available to her in order to climb higher and higher. All of this would mean a step in rank, but with that rank came new dangers that she had to be aware of. Lips thinned, and she slowly turned back towards Wiesburg and came to a stop. The flames grew taller the smoke rose faster, slowly the city was consumed.

Those within would burn, and those who escaped would know only of the crimes of a now dead renegade. "There will be a time."

Her voice was uncharacteristically soft, red eyes reflective of the fire before them.

"A year from now, three or five perhaps." These things could not always be measured in time. "I will need those training at the Academy to come to me. Only me."

The words were cryptic in a way, but to Yves they should have been clear enough. Every Dreadlord swore their allegiance to someone upon graduating, no matter their strength. The Great Houses or the King himself. That was who was sworn to.

Yet Selene demanded something else.

 

[Gylfi Runarsson]

Yves raised an eyebrow to the woman, "I see. Grand ambitions, indeed."

He offered his left hand, which held the sung-steel bow. His blood stained the grip and fresh blood still flowed from the stumps where his two fingers used to be, "You would not want to be responsible for losing one of these."

"What say you- should we part ways for now?"

 

[Selene Avar]

Selene waited a moment her eyes glancing down at the bow in consideration.

It was a rare thing, but she wondered what returning it would mean. Enough questions would already be asked about what had happened here and Wiesburg. A part of her wanted to deny the weapon and simply toss it back into the fire, but in the end she supposed that he was right

A sung steel bow was worth more than a platoon. At least to many commanders. "Yes."

She stated plainly as she took the bloodied bow, her fingers wrapping around a part of the weapon unstained by slick crimson.

For the briefest moment she considered killing Yves. It would have been easy in that second. A jet of magma through his stomach, a sinking bite of wyvern venom into his throat, even a knife into his gullet. It would have been quick, but in the end her ambition and desires for the future got the better of her.

He was a danger, but perhaps also an asset.

She would need more of the latter as she continued her climb.

"Meet me at Vel Acadria in seven days, you'll have your reward then." The small outpost school of the Academy located in Vel Anir itself. An innocuous enough meeting place. Especially for a new Proctors and a member of the First.