Fate - First Reply Now what?

[Sibylla]

Vel Anir Outskirts​

"Merde," Sibylla gave a curse, her olive wet face twisting in aggravated displeasure. The annual storms had blown through the region several weeks early, a monsoon of rain and mud causing havoc not only along the Cortosi Coast, but even miles inland, turning wheat fields into sodden patties. One would wonder if this disaster was due to a fluke of nature or if there were other more nefarious causes of the agricultural disaster. If farmers and the local Lords overseeing these lands did not take adequate measures, this would directly affect the granary stores for the year. While there is plenty of grain in storage in the event of such emergencies, it was best to ensure there was no risk of potential famine.

What made things difficult to manage the logistics was the rebellion by the former Dreadlords and Knights seeking independence and the loyal supporters who attempted to defend. Of course, the rebels won, bringing with it a government change to Vel Anir that was changing to that of a Republic. While the King was spared and Ruling Houses were still powerful in their own right, things were different now.

As an Anirian Knight, Sibyilla would have been caught up in a frenzy, had she not taken leave prior to that to return to her home on the outskirts of Vel Anir. News of her grandfather's sickness had allowed the young knight to rush to her his side. All for the better, for the ensuing battle that wrecked Vel Anir and the Houses between the powerful Dreadlord Mages on both sides had stained the streets in blood.

Not one to be caught up in politics, when it was time for her to report to duty after her grandfather's near brush with death, things had changed. Her lack of participation and election of a side, well, had its consequences.

In this instance, an assigned position to an agricultural zone as security. Anyone would have objected to the post as it was no glorious position to take. However, for Sibylla, it was a welcomed retreat from the annoyance of the mages and the politics between the Houses. The knight wasn't skilled at hiding her emotions when it came to queries, and so, if she could avoid all that nonsense, the better. She just wanted to do her job and do it well.

Okay, if really pressed about it, maybe Sibyilla wasn't as keen to be a glorified security guard for Vel Anir granaries. She was a knight, and the majority of her career had been spent on the Cortosi Campaign with the Army of the West under the command of Commander Raj. She'd fought pirates and brigands and made a real difference before.

Not babysitting farmers and breaking up the local tavern fight. This is what now confronted the Anirian Knight as two bodies went tumbling out of the tavern and onto the street. At this distance and with the rain, it was hard to determine gender or race, but it was trouble when all focus should be instead on being on the alert for any breaks of the temporary levy holding back the rising river waters from flooding yet another wheat field.

"Oi! You there. Quit that now, " Sibylla called out, her dark gloved hand extending from under her heavy cloak to try and gather their attention. Her black leather armor underneath would identify her as a Anirian Knight, but as sodden as she was with, having to monitor out in this rain likely made her blend into the everyday layman.

A small crowd was gathering now. Tumbles like this were on of the rare sort of entertainment for the commoners and roving travelers alike. This village may be in the outskirts, but it didn't mean that it didn't see visitors come through now and then from far and wide.

 

[Askandr Korotkov Stryzga]

The tavern was as loud and rowdy as the recently departed patrons. Drinks were shared, and cheers were had, a pastime enjoyed by the more rustic folk of the outskirts and farmland. Inside stood a massive figure, clad in black plate and shrouded in darkness, looming over an elderly man sitting at the tavern's corner, sweat on his brow despite the mild air within.

"Well, did you do it?" The elder asked, stammering with each word.

The figure was silent before tossing something onto the table. A gold fang flecked still with fresh blood.

"It is done." There was a rasp of impatience in the figure's deep voice.

"And the body?" The elder scrambled to grab the tooth, inspecting it with a discerning eye, looking up to find no response to his question. "Right, forget I asked. But what about the others? Grosh had at least a dozen others under his command."

A damp leather pouch leaped from his hand onto the table, a rattle and shake as it plopped onto the wood.
The elder pressed his lips, worry in his brows as he peered into the pouch, falling back in his chair and almost tumbling at the contents within. More teeth. "Gods be damned, lad! Well, better than bringing a bunch of corpses, I suppose. Thank you, stranger. As agreed, feel free to pick out a few sheep from the pens. You've more than earned it, but I won't question why you didn't ask us for more."

Askandr tilted his head in the slightest of nods before turning away and walking towards the exit as the rowdy crowd continued to form.

---

With grey sheets of cloud obscuring the sun and volleys of rain shooting down from the skies, Askandr thought this was the brightest day he could stand. It was perfect. If he was cold, it was impossible to tell. Raindrops clunked upon the black plate regalia, matting the equally dark cloak around his shoulders. With the sun obscured, his strength was uncompromised, with little need to slink into the shadows until nightfall.

The large cloak on his back did little to obscure his tall figure and large armor, discernable regardless of the gray patterned dreariness and overcast light. The greatsword clanked with each step, swaying freely with each stride. Standing before the brawling patrons, Askandr waited, looming over them in the mud as they collected it upon their clothes before pushing past the crowd away from the tavern.

Beneath his helmet, red eyes darted from face to face, scanning before settling upon Sibylla, staying there for a moment as she called out to the patrons. He quickly discerned her to be of the military by her outfit. Askandr continued to stare as he moved towards the animal pens, breaking sight and walking away.

 

[Sibylla]

Smile, Sibylla. Smile. You like being here. This is grand. Nothing like having to play the role of muscle for a tavern...

The sarcasm of Sibylla's thoughts practically bled into her expression, souring her countenance as trickles of annoying rain went riveting along her cheeks and neck. She could feel the icy water trickle down her back and shoulders. The humidity only made it worse.

Before the Knight could say anything further, a towering individual in black plate armor with the clank of a great sword at his hip practically apparated into the scene. Well, not quite apparated; a few of those pesky mages likely would do that. One from memory, in particular, had been all too willing to bully Sibylla with their rank and power. Again, one of the many reasons the Knight didn't hold the Dreadguard in high regard.

Then again, a few were tolerable.

Nonetheless, the appearance of this rather menacing fellow had the unintended effect of drawing Sibylla's attention. To err is human, but it was always better to verify than simply assume that a big, burly individual in a black plate wouldn't automatically start trouble.

Perhaps that is why when Askandr Korotkov Stryzga's single-minded but eye-catching purposeful gait caught the attention of the drunkards, they were keener on avoiding the potential of getting cut in half by the greatsword than the curt warning from the Andiran Knight.

Annoyance would carve displeasure along Sibylla's visage - again, she wasn't one to hide her emotions, not when she was already irritated beyond belief.

Oh, now they don't want to punch themselves into oblivion? She mused, watching the pair scurry away, much to the crowd's disappointment in desperate need of entertainment and to the pity of would-be wagers who were hoping to earn a few coppers betting on who would win.

The glance spared her direction by the stranger only aggravated her more and perhaps, at a different time, would have caused a different scenario had the savage cry of alarm not gone echoing from the fields.

"HELP!" came the desperate cry, a man staggering from the fields.

"The levy!" mud and rain splattered around, breathless cries sounding the alarm. It was the worst news of the night.

"--- T-the levy is breaking!"

Ice ran down Sibylla's spine in fear.

"Bloody hell," she swore. All thoughts of annoyance fled her mind. Instead, alarm and determination flooded in.

"Everyone, to the levy! We must go reinforce it!" she shouted, yelling at everyone to head towards the river. There sandbags had been set to the side in such an event.

But would it be enough?

 

[Askandr Korotkov Stryzga]

Askandr was already picking out his prizes, looking for the spryest of the flock, as the shouts rang into his sensitive ears, eliciting a curse beneath his breath. His head tilted sideways as if trying to pour out the noise from his eardrums before casting a growl beneath his breath. Nothing can ever be as simple as it ought to be.

He turned fully to the direction of the shouting, the Beast scratching at the back of his mind. A sharp pang stabbed him from the back of his mind, spreading into a headache as it called to him.

"Don't interfere; there will be more food for us this way." It snarled, causing Askandr to twitch at the piercing words. "Think of all the ones drowned, their blood unspilt...unspoiled."

His fists clenched to the point of shaking that instinctual lust for blood, commanding him to abandon the endeavor. It was something he could not easily be rid of. It was a knight's duty to protect those, but he was neither knight nor man anymore, only a nightmare imitating such.

Askandr resolved to leave until he heard that knight shout. The tone and the words were commanding and brave, reminding him of what lay beneath the blackened abyss of what he used to call a heart. Shoulders tensing, Askandr began a resolute stride toward the cries, moving to the levy with a sure pace.

"Soldier." Askandr walked towards Sibylla and the others brave enough to lend aid. The last of his words came out slow, almost forced like poison to be spat out.

"What can I do to...help."

 

[Sibylla]

The threat of the levy breaking and the river flooding the wheat fields had the desired effect. The surrounding villagers made haste, rushing past Sibylla in a mad panic. Every able-bodied male and female with the strength to fill, lift, and stack flour sack bags with dirt and sand made their way toward the fields.

They knew what it would mean should they fail. The thread of prolonged hunger had a magnificent way of motivating hard work through the rain. Of course, a few stayed back to look after the children, and there were a few travelers that would rather not have to deal with the wet, cold rain or the potential threat of drowning should the levy break.

The deep rasp of a painful inquiry came from behind the knight, drawing her attention. Stormy grey eyes would lift, neck craning back as the black plate-clad mercenary reappeared. The rain made her vision blurry, but what she could see and her instincts made her skin prickle in wariness. Instinct told her that Askandr Korotkov Stryzga is trouble. Something about him did not sit right with her.

While he offered to help, it sure seemed like he needed to be more willing to. Should I take him up on his offer?

Sibylla didn't bother an extra second of thought. With as much muscle and brawn he had on him, odds were he would be just as efficient and effective as two or three villagers.

"Come with me," she told him, flicking her palm over her face to wipe the rain off her visage.

"We need to reinforce the levy before it breaks with sandbags," Sibylla instructed, one dark glove curling her fingers for him to follow.

A glance with adding, "We will not be able to pay you." might as well get that out of the way.

 

[Askandr Korotkov Stryzga]

Truth be told, Askandr never had to do such tasks during his tenure in knighthood, but it seemed much simpler than conducting a siege. He matched Sibylla's stride, pausing momentarily as she spoke, red eyes shifting to the levy.

At the mention of his lack of pay, Askandr paused in silence for half a moment before nodding.

"That is fine."

Coin was something he rarely needed, save for when he covered the cost of his repairs and lodgings; even then, acquiring gold was the simplest of matters. All he needed was his sword arm, after all, and blood, the latter of which often came with the jobs he took.

He followed her directives, keeping pace as they moved. It reminded him of the old days when he would follow the command of his superiors without question. His sword would slash into whoever it needed to, and his feet would go wherever he needed to be. It was a simpler time.

Once they arrived, Askandr moved to fill the sandbags in reserve. It seemed almost unnatural how methodical his process was. He showed little sign of strain when filling up the bag, moving and tossing it as if it were filled with flour.

While he did so without complaint, Askandr lacked much of the knowledge needed to resolve such a situation, merely doing what he thought needed to be done with the bags and mostly relying on Sibylla to assess the situation.

 

[Sibylla]

Color me surprised. Sybilla mused, her olive visage barely visible under the pouring rain but just enough to illuminate her surprise. Perhaps, she had assumed he would take back his offer for aid once the knowledge that no payment would be provided for his toil.

Instead, the Anirian Knight and the red-eyed mercenary - what Sybilla assumed him to be - were working side by side. Sybilla doing her best to direct where the sandbags should be placed, and Askandr Korotkov Stryzga, doing the work of two, nay, perhaps three villages with as much unnatural strength as he seemed to retain.

The rain only grew worse, and the trickles of water that had flowed in between the sandbags had grown. Worry made Sybilla gnaw at her lips.

"Hurry, we need to reinforce it," she cried out, grabbing a full sack from a villager and tying it herself before lugging it in place. No one would say that she wasn't in the thick of it.

With luck, they were fast enough. With luck, the Gods perhaps would be kind enough to provide a measure of kindness for their work. It had been a rather shitty endeavor, and the last thing they needed was for another thing to fail.

As such was Sybilla's luck, mages, and Gods held the Anirian knight with little care.

One villager moving on top of the levy to settle the sandbags managed to slip. A simple affair that would normally have him catch himself. However, the combination of the rain and the mud making the area slippery, it only caused the man to flair and grab at anything he could to catch himself. In mere seconds, what took minutes to try and reinforce came tumbling down as the man's desperate grasp brought with it several sandbags. The pressure of the water on the sudden weakspot was too much.

Water from the river came surging forward.

 

[Askandr Korotkov Stryzga]

Despite the prenatural efficiency, Askan was out of his element. Filling bags with rocks was simple, but he did not feel he was meant for something as trivial as this. Still, if this was the best way to help, according to the soldier in command. His eyes wandered back to her, scanning her armor and sigil. She looked young, not an old veteran. Perhaps he could finish this task without a hitch and leave before his true nature was revealed. Still, it was odd for someone so well-dressed to be out here. It would be an anomaly back when he served. Perhaps the policy did change with the times.

His pace quickened as the rain grew thick, not because of the dire situation but because the overcast blocked more of the sun. Bags upon bags topped one another, forming a sturdy bank on his end, much faster than the progress of the other villagers. But his plan soon backfired before his lightning reflexes could react to the situation.

Being too heavily bolstered on his side caused the water to concentrate towards the other side of him, gathering upon the weak points. Had Askan been more experienced with such tasks, he would have thrown the bags around more evenly.

He had to fix his error, which aided in overflowing water that now threatened to drown the villagers. Askandr, guided by his instinct, quickly pulled the man closest to the flooding, pulling him by the tunic and tossing him away from the path of the water.

Askandr began to pile bag upon bag, his supernatural nature revealing itself further as he rushed to plug the leakages as much as possible, filling and tossing much faster than before.

"Spread those bags evenly." He called to the others, the deep swell of his voice scraped with an underlying growl. "I will handle this."