Fate - First Reply Pillars of Faith, Pyres of Fire

[Tarkas Verik]

A rendezvous met.


His hateful eyes glared as the pyres burned, his helmet held at his side. The pyres were lined up perfectly, each holding the body of a slain Anirian Guardsmen.

They were part of the Eastern Barracks, responsible for a large portion of the city wall. In total, 27 soldiers were slain. 17 of them were dead in their sleep, 8 went down fighting, and 2 died in the resulting fire that engulfed their barracks.

Torches in perfect synchronization, marched to the prepared pyres. Tarkas prepared a funeral pyre for each personally, overseeing their funerals. They were heroes, and deserved the honors therein. Their ashes would go in the foundation of the new barracks.

Gauntleted hands gripped tightly on his polished helmet. One of the Sergeants came to his side, remaining silent as the pyres burnt. Tarkas had no words to offer the gathered grieving families. He had no children of his own, but he considered the soldiers under his charge his sons and daughters all the same.

So he grieved their loss heavily. He personally instructed many of them, most recently in a war game exercise. He reinforced the idea of an effective shield formation by hurling large stones at them to reinforce the idea of covering each other. After many bruises, the message was received by his soldiers.

After the long night of watching his former soldiers be whisked away by the flames, the mortuary crews began the grim duty of collecting the ashes.

His Sergeant, Andre Kiran finally spoke.

"The Barracks remains under guard and untouched, Captain, as your orders. Some speak of magic being the cause of the fire."

Tarkas breathed in deeply, turning his head to the Sergeant. The implication was not pleasant. It would be one thing to be facing insurrection, rebellion, or saboteurs.... but the thought of traitors crossed his mind.

"Do you want me to summon the Dreadlords, sir?"

Sergeant Kiran posed, as Tarkas turned on his heel, marching to the Eastern Barracks.

"No. I would not trouble them yet."

Sergeant Kiran read between the lines, clasping his hands behid his back, observing the mortuary crews begin their work. Tarkas trusted him to the duty, and the only reason he stayed was merely due to the pressing matter of the investigation at the barracks.

Pyromancers were not rare, but not common, and certainly not unknown. It required study and training, and if the rumors and speculation proved true, his first guess was a grim one:

A rogue and wayward Dreadlord.

The thought of a Dreadlord murdering Anirian soldiers while they slept sent his blood boiling. But only time would tell, and he had to begin his grim task of discovering the truth.

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

During her free period, Everleigh Ebersol had been called in. She had been out for a week, recuperating from her most recent tussle with a minuscule scorpion. It was only a inch big. It also packed a huge poison punch. The toxins from the little scorpion had Everleigh in her room, only seeing her classmates when they brought over any sort of homework and being checked on once a day by a proctor. The first day back to participate within the academy and Everleigh couldn’t enjoy the whole day to better her skills.

She was informed that she would be sent out on a mission, to the Eastern Barracks. They were having issues apparently. But not issues big enough to send in a dreadlord. A proctor and Everleigh herself were assigned to figure out what exactly was going on. When classes ended, she would immediately meet Proctor Palahniuk at the gates of the academy, prepared for the mission. As someone who was known to have high scores in the academy, Everleigh made sure to do what she was told.

---

“Rogue pyromancer,” Everleigh echoed after Proctor Palahniuk had explained the situation so far to the initiate. The poison eater and the proctor were both on horses, heading as fast as possible to the eastern barracks. Based on how it was just her and a proctor, Everleigh felt like this mission couldn’t be that important. Also, why her? Would one of the flashier initiates do better with a pyromancer.

She had spent a decade figuring out how to make her magic versatile. But she felt, at least when compared to those like Edric, Sable, Noel, Delaney, and Vance, her magic showed all the limitations it had. She had been told more than once that if it weren’t for her intellect she’d be dead. Good thing she was very, very smart.

But if she were face to face with a pyromancer? Poison could only do so much.

When Everleigh and Proctor Palahniuk came into the Eastern Barracks, the fading smell of smoke greeted the poison eater. As did that sickly-sweet smell of burning flesh. She knew it was not cattle they had been roasting but humans instead. They were told were to dismount their horses, Everleigh nimble as ever as she followed the proctor’s orders.

With a demure look on her face she was two steps behind the proctor as they were lead to the Captain. Captain Verik. Everleigh absently wondered exactly what sort of person this captain was. Having been on quite a few missions now, she realized that sometimes the title Captain was just passed around. Regardless, she knew she would be on her best behavior. Appearances were important after all.

Tarkas Verik

 

[Tarkas Verik]

Captain Verik was alerted by one of the other Guardsmen of the arrival of the Dreadlords.

He was half illuminated in the night by torches and moonlight, casting an imposing shadow over most of the gathered men. For human standards, he was immensely tall and.... big.

He crossed his plate armor covered arms, spinning on his heel to face the incoming Dreadlord. The Dreadlord was somewhat surrounded, hateful Guardsmen leering at the initiate and the Proctor.

Neither were liked nor particularly welcome at the moment. Swords were gripped tightly, and spears lifted ever so slightly off of the ground.

As far as appearance went, Tarkas' arms and equipment was well maintained, his hair short and combed.... and his face rather grim looking. His scars marked him as a veteran, if not the stare he gave people. He noticed the actions of his soldiers, and stepped forward.

"Dreadlords. Welcome. I'm sure you've heard the hearsay by now."

He looked around after the fact, then, showing a tell tale sign of his leadership, addressed an issue without causing another one.

"You can see how this would put some Guardsmen on edge. After all, the only Pyromancers we seem to have are either known or are Dreadlords themselves."

He looked away from the proctor, to the girl, but didn't greet her yet. With younger people, he always found them staring or asking about the bits of metal in his face. He hoped she wouldn't.

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

Everleigh personally was quite used to people regarding her with caution. Firstly, because her appearance was strange. Violet hair and eyes? Surely she couldn’t be human. There had been plenty of hushed whispers or jeers that she was an elf or worser things. Secondly, upon realizing what exactly she was capable of often had people giving her a wide berth. Thirdly, the academy grieves also had people, especially post revolution, to regard her with some sort of anxiety.

Proctor Palahniuk on the other hand seemed to take the guardsmen and their antics to heart. Everleigh noted this by how his hand went from being into a fist and then relaxing before going back into a fist. His other hand was also on the hilt of his sword. She wondered what expression he was wearing but figured it had to be close to hers: neutral, unbothered, and mild.

“Well, that’s why we’re here, Captain Verik,” the Proctor said tersely. Everleigh clasped her hands behind her back, her dull gaze meeting Tarkas and seeing the glint of metal nestled into his forehead. The flickering firelight around them casted an interesting dance of light and shadow on the metal. The initiate’s dull eyes quickly went back to watching the Captain’s face.

“If it is a Dreadlord, I’ll be handling it.” Palahniuk added, completely overlooking the role Everleigh would play. It didn’t bother her much. “It was suggested that upon arrival, more information would be disclosed. Where is…?” Palahniuk looked to his sides, not seeing Everleigh and then turned back around, finding her and glowering at her. “Make sure you pay attention, Initiate.” He commanded before turning back around. Everleigh raised a brow, intrigued at the fact that he wanted to display power. Did the Captain unsettle him that much?

 

[Tarkas Verik]

Tarkas leaned forward at the Proctor's proposal.

"If it is in fact, a Dreadlord, we will bring you their head." He remarked sharply. It was clear that the Anirian soldiers wanted revenge.

And to recall one crucial battle from his younger years, Dreadlords were unfortunately human, just like the rest of them. And a spear to the ribs or a cut to the throat would do the same to Tarkas as it would to the Proctor.

Tarkas played it nice, however, downplaying how outnumbered the other two were, along with how angry the Anirian soldiers were.

Marching along, Tarkas gestured to the barracks, left as it was, as it came into view. Smell and all.

"Based on the scorch marks it was determined that the fire began on the western wall, then spread. The support built around the chimneys collapsed, resulting in..." He gestured to the carnage before them.

"The collapse killed most, smoke and fire did the rest. We lost two brave ones when they attempted a rescue. By the time I arrived the fire brigade had more or less contained the flames." He stood tall, folding his hands behind his back.

"I only know of a few devices that could dispense flame in such a manner, and many are too large and unwieldy to even get through the streets here. An explosive device or incineration based bomb is possible, but without further damage.... that leaves me with magic." He looked down at the Proctor.

"Feel free to use your talents and knowledge. I would rather not be facing a rogue Dreadlord, and neither would you."

His tone dropped.

"My soldiers seek blood, Proctor, Initiate. I will make sure they toe the line while I am here, but please do not provoke them." He flicked his eyes from the Initiate to the Proctor.

"It would not be wise."

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

“Any harm comes to us, you’ll have more than just a rogue dreadlord to worry about.” Proctor Palahniuk replied back coldly, matching their ice magick.

The proctor seemed to bristle while Everleigh was focusing on the task at hand. As the two men spoke, her gimlet gaze was along the western wall, or at least the remains of the place. A few questions popped into her mind. First, it was most definitely not caused by a device, that much was clear. Even if it was a bomb, there would be a greater sign of force. Second, how interesting that it traveled like an actual fire instead of just a poorly directed fireball. This meant the abilities were different than some of what she had seen in her fellow classmates. Also different than what she experienced with a mage. Thirdly—

“Initiate Everleigh get over here.” Proctor Palahniuk said in an exasperated sigh, waving her over. She stepped over to the two men, dipping her head.

“Yes, Proctor?” She asked, looking up at him before glancing over to Tarkas.

“Well? Have you figured it out?” Everleigh frowned ever so slightly. It was one thing she disliked about this Proctor. She said one thing different than what he thought and he’d berate her behind closed doors. Taking a breath, Everleigh debated what the Proctor had already assumed. It was better to just go along with him for the time being. She could lead him to the other answers later.

“No bomb caused this,” she began, her voice steady. “You see the scorch marks begin there, but around the area there’s no sign of explosion. Explosions tend to blow things away at it’s base, there’s no sign that it happened.” She paused, and only continued with the Proctor nodded his head. “Their magick must be based on natural fire confinements, they can create flames and control them, and perhaps create a fireball. However, if they could, they didn’t, for two possible reasons: they can’t throw fire or at least a deadly ball of flames. Or, they wanted it to look like an accident.”

“And?” The proctor prompted. Everleigh stiffened. Had he… actually figured out more? No. He had been standing her, glowering at the Captain. There was no way he saw what she did. So what would the and imply? Oh. Yes. That.

“Captain, are you completely sure that none of your men are responsible? Perhaps a new recruit who seems suspicious.” Proctor Palahniuk looked smug. Everleigh remembered on the way there how he said they were doing damage control. Can’t have any more bad publicity for dreadlords nowadays.

Tarkas Verik

 

[Tarkas Verik]

Tarkas Verik was a man of many things. Slow to anger but when he was- it showed. A Captain and a veteran of many conflicts- without magic, with only him and his men, his reputation proceeding him. His mannerism and posture changed, his arms still crossed.

But he leaned into the Dreadlord Proctor all the same. His face half blurred by shadow and torches.

"The Guardsmen at the Eastern Barracks were veterans of at least two campaigns and nearly a decade of service to the city and to the Houses and King. Since the Revolt-" He leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. Not the Revolution, the Revolt.

Tarkas' loyalties were to the King primarily- a great many revolutionaries suffered quick and violent deaths in his valiant defense of the King, fruitless as it was.

"At the barracks, at least. If it was someone else, they were not seen by any of the Watch. There remains only one witness- the other two perished in the flames attempting to save their brethren." He said, turning back to the charred remains of the barracks.

"We would do well if were to interview my soldier together." He said, breathing in deeply to remove the anger and annoyance in his voice.

Tarkas was a scary man- his brutish physique hid a rather scholarly man. He rarely talked much. This entire affair was a rare occasion, especially to a Dreadlord.

And a Dreadlord initiate.

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

Proctor Palahniuk kept his mouth shut. Everleigh found it funny how his hand had yet to leave the hilt of his short sword. Everleigh clasped her hands behind her back once more. She didn’t feel fear from this situation, and why would she? Poison breath was quick and effective. Only issue was if she used it, proctor Palahniuk would die… perhaps she was in a precarious situation after all?

“Well, lead the way, Captain.” Proctor Palahniuk was seething, it could be seen by the way he gritted his teeth and had to hold himself back from spitting out the words.

Everleigh tilted her head, curious. Why not interview the soldier sooner? Was he not well? Many different reasons as to why the soldier wasn’t interviewed came to her mind, even the suspicion that he could have been the culprit. However, Tarkas had made an interesting statement.

“If they weren’t seen by the Watch,” Everleigh mused, mostly to herself, dull violet eyes rising up to the sky. “Perhaps the intent was just to set the wall on fire and hope the fire ravaged through the area fast enough. Maybe… a warning.” Or distraction. But Everleigh couldn’t imagine someone wanting to take something from here… what was there to steal?

 

[Tarkas Verik]

"A warning, as to what? A warning comes with a message. If there is one, we haven't found it."

A gauntlet covered finger ran across his face, pondering the implications. Tarkas turned to one of the Guardsmen, whispering. He told them to check the armories and storerooms. The Initiate's words had some wisdom to them. Tarkas was not against the combined intellect of multiple brains put together to the same task.

"Certainly, Proctor."

He said it with malice and a small amount of... spite. As if Proctors were somehow even less liked than the average Dreadlord. Tarkas lead the group- himself, two Sergeants and the Dreadlords, to an infirmary set up to treat the wounded near the Barracks. He was let inside- but stopped, removing his gauntlets and taking the time to use a wash basin to wash his hands and face.

He leered at the Dreadlords to do the same before moving past the cloth curtains, to a bed. The soldier was bandaged heavily, bleeding through most of them in most places on her legs. Tarkas stood at the edge of the room, explaining the situation to her, and that he had Dreadlords with him.

Even she looked less than thrilled at the aspect of speaking to them. Tarkas put up a finger to silence her dissent, and non-verbally reminded her to be polite, despite their obvious dislike.

As he was.

He turned to the Dreadlord, gesturing to her.

"Magic is not my area of expertise. By all means."

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

“A warning to be afraid.” Everleigh said slowly. Proctor Palahniuk stiffened. She gave a bad answer. But she continued, mostly because it was a possibility. “Or a much larger one, to the Republic.” Everleigh offered before promptly shutting her mouth. Any more of her suggestions that didn’t float Palahniuk’s boat would earn her punishment. Maybe not as severe as before but still a punishment nonetheless.

“Wash your hands, Initiate Everleigh.” The proctor barked, as if Everleigh was going to ignore the look Tarkas had just given them. She nodded her head regardless and removed her long, thin gloves underneath her long sleeves. She rolled her sleeves up just enough to wash her hands, but it was obvious she tried to keep her bare skin discrete.

A myriad of neat blade cut scars, burns, even corrosive scars as well as obvious snake and spider bite scars. She washed her face as well with her hands. Once her hands were clean, the proctor washed his hands and Everleigh’s dull gaze went to the captain. She followed him, pulling her sleeves down. She looked back at the proctor and he gestured for her to speak.

“Thank you for speaking with us,” Everleigh murmured, “I can understand you’re not in the best condition so I’ll keep this short. First, however, could you start with what you saw?”

 

[Tarkas Verik]

The notion that the Initiate was hurried to mask her scars did not go unnoticed by Tarkas. Tarkas stepped back, keeping his bulky arms crossed.

The soldier sat up, adjusting her hair to present herself better to Tarkas... and his company. She leered at Tarkas, which earned her a spiteful stare, as he turned his head to the Dreadlords, indicating for her to speak.

And speak truthfully.

"I didn't see her when she did it. I only came after the fact. But I saw her, hands near the flames, turning to us. She had... a red sash. Like a house marking. Black hair. Wore tight-fitting clothing, like an assassin. Dark colored. She saw us and ran. I didn't give chase- called out to the Guard, but it was like she vanished into thin air, by the time she got there."

The Soldier looked over at Tarkas after speaking. He rolled his hand to gesture for her to continue. "After that I went into the barracks and... well." She gestured to her heavily burnt and mangled legs. Her skin would never be the same.

Tarkas knew the feeling, and knew her road ahead.

"She said something before she vanished, like... a spell, if I understand rightly. She vanished just after speaking it, so I heard."

Tarkas' face narrowed, and somehow became... more angry.

Witchcraft. Pyromancy. And now... either teleportation, or vanishing tricks.

All things that took years, training, and study. He turned to the Dreadlords, breathing deeply. The soldier on the bed sensed Tarkas' rage, knowing his wrath far too well for herself, on unfortunate occasion. She grew silent, but Tarkas breathed out a deep breath, relaxing his posture. He had nothing else to say, waiting for the Dreadlord's expertise to chime in. Magic was outside his knowledge base- much like loyalty and empathy for humanity was outside the knowledge base of Dreadlords.

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

First, a female. Second, red sash. Third, vanished. But only after the guard was called. The moment they were caught, why not vanish then, say the words then? Everleigh remained insouciant outwardly, however, inwardly, this was a well of information. Closing some of her previous ideas while opening up many more doorways. Everleigh glanced over at Proctor Palahniuk, seeing that he was frowning. The implications of a dreadlord affiliated to one of the houses was a big one.

“Not all dreadlords can use magic to vanish,” Everleigh said. “Either they had a partner to help them with the escape, or they’re very well versed in things other than pyromancy. Perhaps, the fire was a ploy to make us focus elsewhere.” She glanced back at the soldier.

“They said the spell,” Proctor Palahniuk said in that scathing way whenever he corrected the initiates, as if they were bovine creatures. Everleigh repressed the sigh.

“It might not even be teleportation, it could have been invisibility.” Everleigh countered, her voice steady although the volume was low. “On their sash, was it just… regular, or did you notice any sort of particular markings on it?” She asked the soldier, hearing a slight scoff of disapproval from the proctor. Obviously he wouldn’t like where it was going, focusing more on this implication. But it was best to ask now rather than later.

 

[Tarkas Verik]

"Gold.. gold on the fringes. Some markings. Too dark and too fast to make it out."

A head, the Sergeant from earlier, perked through the curtains. He made no motion, but Tarkas met him at the gap anyways. They spoke for a moment, and Tarkas turned back.

"The armories and other personnel are accounted for."

The tidbit of information was crucial- the Eastern Barracks was deliberately attacked, or at least targeted.

Tarkas lumbered forward, closer to the soldier than the Dreadlords.

"Pyromancy isn't a terribly common trait, as I understand. Immensely difficult, or so I've heard."

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

Proctor Palahniuk waved his hand almost dismissively, whether at what the soldier said or what Tarkas said, Everleigh couldn’t be sure.

“Fire is part of the natural four elements, twenty-five percent chance,” The proctor said which caused Everleigh to frown. That made no sense. The odds didn’t stack up that way, but she didn’t have the guts to correct the Proctor. Maybe he was just bad at math? Or logic in general? “It can just be a well trained mage, nothing to do with actual dreadlords.” The frowned deepened on Everleigh’s face, as she looked at Tarkas, waiting to see more signs of that visible anger of his.

“Thank you for your time,” Everleigh said to the soldier, dipping her head down slightly as she did so. She then completely turned towards the proctor and the captain. “I do think whoever did it, it was to leave a message. And…” a subtle pause, collecting the right words, “whether its a rogue dreadlord or a mage or even something else entirely, it’s not far fetched to think that they may return again. Or attack a different area entirely. I’m sure if they attack elsewhere, we’ll see the same signs.”

 

[Tarkas Verik]

Tarkas snapped his eyes at the Proctor. The room went tense with the uneasy air of incoming violence. The Captain wanted to throw the Proctor through the walls of the infirmary.

And he probably could.

He breathed in deeply, suppressing the desire to bludgeon the smaller Dreadlord Proctor.

"Mages are rarely seen outside libraries and universities. There also haven't been many outside the College that have been taught fire magic to the point of burning down stone and wood."

He approached the Proctor, just by a single step. In that moment, it became clear how and why Tarkas was able to fend off the King's would be attackers single handedly for so long- even Dreadlords that came for the King met a brutal end at Tarkas' barbaric, but efficient violence.

"A mage wouldn't have looked twice at that building. They knew what that building was and who was in it. So for now, we have a vanishing Dreadlord who's insistent on killing Guardsmen." He leaned into the Proctor just a tiny bit more.

"And their lives matter to me, even if they don't to you or the other Dreadlords. And before you protest, I have served this city abroad and at the walls for 20 years. I know how you Dreadlords feel about us lowly Guardsmen."

He said bitterly, before stepping back after saying his piece, breathing deeply.

"Sergeant."

The Sergeant returned, his head sideways and poking through the sheet.

"Yes, Captain?" He chirped in a sing song tone, sort of. He had a deep, raspy voice from years of straining it by yelling constantly.

"But the Guard on alert and alert the other Barracks. Have Commanders have double watches posted- call up the reserves to be ready to mobilize within the city within an hour."

The Sergeant jot this all down hurriedly on a small journal.

The Sergeant and the Captain exchanged terse words to each other in another language- Elvish.

Something similar to the effect of "the Dreadlords are fucking annoying but let's not let them get their stupid castle monastery bullshit burned down either, make sure the Guardsmen there do not lose their heads."

He turned back to the Dreadlords, narrowing his eyes.

"You are correct young one- now it only matters when, and where. The city is tense, and I hope nothing further occurs."

He looked over at the soldier, excusing himself and marching out, blue and black plate armor marching out to face the threat that was sure to return.

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

The proctor and the dreadlord initiate stood there as Tarkas, much to Everleigh’s surprise, told Proctor Palahniuk to stop being such an ass. It was a shock to the young woman mostly because at the academy, the Proctor’s were essentially at the top of the food chain. Even the best students at the academy would still get crap from them, and even after the revolution, sure, senseless torture wasn’t allowed but that didn’t mean punishments couldn’t get dished out.

Everleigh could quite easily be punished tonight, and she wouldn’t say a word. Since being at the academy for so long, her sense of punishment and just plain cruelty had been blurred. Only thing she understood about them was that they were a hindrance.

“Don’t take his praise to heart, Initiate Everleigh.” Proctor Palahniuk said only after Tarkas had left and they were heading out of the infirmary themselves. “If he were a capable man, they never would have sent us to help him clean up his mess. If he thinks this small amount of destruction is caused by a dreadlord then he he has no idea what dreadlords are really capable of.”

Everleigh followed two steps behind the proctor, somewhat agreeing with him. Sure, dreadlords weren’t known for holding back, it would make sense if the entire place had been covered in flames. But at the same time, did Proctor Palahniuk understand nothing about what she and Tarkas Verik had said about a message?

---

“Well, they’re clearly trying to send a message to Vel Anir,” Everleigh rolled her eyes as Proctor Palahniuk tried to lecture her as they both rode to the location of the nearby Barrack. Another attack, only an hour after they had arrived, and with fire again, no less. Everleigh had felt smug of her original inferences from earlier, but of course Proctor Palahniuk had to take credit of it.

Something about how people Everleigh didn’t have enough information so she was only assuming, and now with this attack, it was no longer a assumption but fact.

Everleigh felt if she tried to make sense of Proctor Palahniuk’s logic her brain would burst.

It wasn’t long that they arrived, not just the two dreadlords but Captain Tarkas Verik and some from his unit were with them as well.

The blazing flames could be felt, and with a curse, Proctor Palahniuk reached out a hand. Shards of ice were forming from his palm and then flying to the flames. They melted, but that was the plan. After all, the fire needed to be put out first. But with everyone fretting about the fire, and just as Everleigh got off of her horse, she caught sight of a figure, moving slowly and silently— unlike everyone else around them.

“Captain!” Everleigh completely bypassed Proctor Palahniuk and looked over at Tarkas, her expression as indifferent as ever but she pointed to where the figure had just been. When they made eye contact she began to run into that direction. Someone of importance knew where she was and she didn’t want to distract the proctor from his work with taking out the fire.

 

[Tarkas Verik]

The Proctor and the Initiate took their leave, Tarkas and his Guardsmen watching them ride away.

Scowling, he stood silent as the grave, knowing it was but a matter of time...


______________________

It came again- an offset of the Northern Barracks, targeting one of the support units. Logistical soldiers, important but not glorious.

And all the same, ablaze. Tarkas' head snapped as his rank was called, and he left the Sergeant to assist with the bucket brigade and the Dreadlord.

And he took off, chainmail and plate armor speeding towards the assailant and the Initiate. He was fast- despite his immense build. He cursed and yelled hatefully, speeding towards the woman.

She turned and began to say a spell, the air turning blue with light.

Her spell was interrupted by a fist to the face. And another. She lashed out with a kick- strong enough to stagger Tarkas, even in his armor. She reached for a second kick, but Tarkas caught her by the leg- and slammed her against the alley wall, face-first. The woman peeled off of the ground, her hand flashing white, and Tarkas was thrown violently backwards, to the ground. She was bleeding from the face and mouth, her face deeply cut and bruised already.

She scrambled to her feet the same time Tarkas did, giving the Initiate ample time to follow up.

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

Everleigh didn’t expect Tarkas to just… charge. She thought of a bull or a rhino that had been cornered and was now finally acting aggressively. Pulling out two thin throwing spikes from seemingly nowhere, her eyes glowed violet and she licked their tips. When she looked back at Tarkas, she caught sight of him handling the mage the “old fashion” way.

Everleigh was surprised by it, as could be seen by how wide her eyes got. The mage didn’t look to be in good shape, and Tarkas, despite being brought down to the ground, seemed ready to go again with a few more punches. Too bad Everleigh Ebersol was here and she was going the silent and stealthy approach.

With expert aim, the poison eater’s wrists flicked and she hit the staggered mage twice in her neck. Everleigh had chosen paralysis, figuring that she would be needed alive to ask questions. Also, Everleigh quite enjoyed besting someone with more destructive magic with her own. Silent but deadly.

The poison was fast, like taipan snake venom, and it would be only a few seconds for the female to start feeling the effects. But Everleigh still went towards her, tripping her and letting her fall to her hands and knees. She noted that her reaction time seemed delay— which meant the toxin was working just as Everleigh expected. She grabbed the woman by her biceps, bringing her arms around her back.

“Ah, I’ve paralyzed her for now, Captain.” Everleigh said, looking over at Tarkas. “Quite heavily. I doubt she can even move her tongue right now.” Whoops, her bad. But in her defense she didn’t expect Tarkas to just punch this woman before her poison got to her.

 

[Tarkas Verik]

(Damn you, concussion.)

"Good work, miss."

The soldiers around them tensed up, staring between the Dreadlords. The Dreadlords were outnumbered by the city's best- and most vengeful at the moment. Tarkas was absorbed by the murderer for a minute, before turning his head, seeing the soldiers around them perched to finish off the murderer- and the Dreadlords standing between them, if the need be.

Tarkas crouched over the younger woman.

"The Dreadlords must have a number of secret locations. Send for me and my Sergeants when you stash this would-be arsonist away-" He turned his head.

"I will tell them she is being carried away for summary execution- it's the best I can do to make sure the Dreadlords aren't slaughtered in their sleep."

He turned, and addressed the gathered troops, giving a rousing declaration that the woman was facing Vel Anir justice, and the Dreadlords were to strip her of her magic before facing a summary tribunal- and ultimately, execution. Tarkas' emotions were rage filled- and he used his passion, to his displeasure, to tell a white lie.

The woman would die- true, but not quite yet.

He hoped the Dreadlords had somewhere to go- otherwise, it was a gamble all for naught, and the three of them were facing the very angry swords of a very angry army.

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

Proctor Palahniuk was still busy with the fire and the damage caused by it— despite being a dick, he did genuinely care about not wanting more Anirians to die. Everleigh was more so busy checking over the criminal, making sure that her magic was effective and that no healing runes were activating. Everything seemed to have worked out well, until Tarkas spoke a couple of interesting words.

Everleigh tilted her head much like a bird did, looking at Tarkas with open befuddlement.

“Why would the dreadlords be slaughtered in their sleep?” She asked. She wasn’t sure who the Captain was really talking about. The criminal? Her and the proctor? Or the dreadlord community as a whole? But then another thought came to her mind as well: Tarkas believed that dreadlords could be slaughtered?

He thought Everleigh would die so easily? She’d take everyone down with her, it’d be a massacre if anyone thought a simple sneak attack would end her reign of being a menace.

 

[Tarkas Verik]

Tarkas didn't say anything. The gathered soldiers looked to him, then to the Dreadlords. If in the moment, the Guardsmen decided to go against the Dreadlord and the Captain, they'd all die. Simply put, not even the power of a dreadlord could survive six pounds of steel running through your stomach.

"Because a Dreadlord just killed more Guardsman than any single attack in the past year."

Tarkas made himself known by killing Dreadlords. He knew it could be done. It wasn't impossible. It was mostly due to positioning.

"Go. I'll give the report to the who's-who of the city. Take her, and I'll meet you there." He turned on his heels, approaching the crowd of soldiers, ushering up both of his hands. Captain Tarkas Verik's word was law, absolute.

"The situation is under control. We have the culprit in custody. They will be interrogated, and then summarily executed for crimes against the city of Vel Anir. I will see to the execution personally, and bring the head of the individual or individuals responsible to the Council."

The temper seemed to die down, but the Soldiers were only held back by a thin veil of duty and and the imposing figure of Tarkas- otherwise they were more than happy to impale the pyromancer, and if need be, the two Dreadlords tasked with guarding her for the time being. But Tarkas had brought them to a calm, providing the two Dreadlords time to make off with the assassin to a better location.

Everleigh Ebersol

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

Everleigh felt that frown grow. It just didn’t… make sense. Nothing after the revolution really made sense anymore. Days at the academy were different, her future was uncertain, and here she was, surrounded by those she would be joining once she graduated and they wanted to kill her despite her being the one to knock off the criminal. How did the dreadlords still alive handle this? Why now, all of a sudden, did Everleigh feel like a small poison frog surrounded by a bunch of hungry beasts.

“How lame,” Everleigh said under her breath, hoisting the criminal up. Everleigh may have been an initiate but she lacked arm strength, or, at least enough to easily carry a fully grown woman in armor and such to the horses. It was a struggle and with each step she could feel the eyes on her, the glares of those who seemed to want to put a dagger in her back.

Perhaps Proctor Palahniuk was right to hate all guardsmen the same way they hated all dreadlords unanimously. The poison eater, with help of the proctor, managed to sling the criminal over the back of the horse, her wrists and ankles tied and then tied together. Proctor Palahniuk tied the captive to Everleigh when she was on the horse, and then the dreadlord duo, teacher and apprentice, were off. Heading off to the closet place that could contain dreadlords.

After all, if they wanted answers to the questions they had, Evie couldn’t keep poisoning the prisoner to be immobile. Or… could she. While riding there, the young woman was already piecing together a genius way to keep only the limbs paralyzed.

Tarkas Verik

 

[Tarkas Verik]

(Clear, starting defibrillation.)

(Clear!)

(*zap!*)

One of the many Guardsmen looked over at Tarkas, eyeing him hatefully as much as they did the Dreadlords. Tarkas returned the glare, then sighing.

"We can't have another war, soldier. They might all die if we go against them, but so would the city." He ushered his comrades to disperse afterwards, and they all seemed to reluctantly agree or at the least, follow his command. The Dreadlords were far outnumbered- and recently decimated in the most recent war.

But so were the Guardsmen of the city.

----

The safe house was well warded and well guarded, with multiple stages of protection and security. Only a small security detachment, sworn to secrecy, received and aided with imprisoning the rogue mage.

Tarkas and company arrived soon after the initiate and the Dreadlord did.

Tarkas entered the room, a dimly lit room with a cell with the mage in it. He didn't speak for a moment, before turning to the older Dreadlord.

"Don't kill her or poison her anymore. She may welcome death or worse rather than give out information."

He sternly stared, letting them take the lead on their approach to a possible rogue Dreadlord.

Everleigh Ebersol

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

“I haven’t been over doing it,” Everleigh said indignantly the moment Tarkas had decided to address Proctor Palahniuk instead of her. She frowned, crossing her arms underneath her chest. “Just enough so she doesn’t try anything. All dreadlords are trained in the basic college magic, and maybe she knows more spells.” The purple haired initiate pointed out.

“Initiate Ebersol,” proctor Palahniuk warned. Everleigh closed her mouth and looked down at her feet, glaring. “We need to interview her.” Everleigh rolled her eyes. Like that was supposed to make her behave?

She stepped forward, giving a pointed look at Tarkas.

“Why must I be punished for being a monster? You act like I should apologize for it. But has anyone apologized to me for turning me into one?” She said. Immediately after she finished speaking her veins froze. Everleigh’s face seized up in one of fright, knowing full well that this was Proctor Palahniuk’s signature move: his control of ice was so immense he could even freeze the warm blood inside one’s veins. Her skin paled further and no movement could be seen from her face.

“I apologize for her outburst, Captain Verik,” Proctor Palahniuk said easily, clearing his throat and stepping forward. “You must understand that after the revolution many of our adolescents are… confused with their place in society.” The revolution wasn’t fun for either side.

“May I start the interview? I believe Initiate Ebersol has done a good job in just making sure the mage could do so suspicious hijinks until you arrived.”

Tarkas Verik