Open Chronicles Runners

[Ania]

Whispers can be heard in the backdrop of sound within Falwood. Amongst the skittering of insects, the rustling of leaves, and the howling wind between branches. Whispers. Many claim that only a select few can hear them. Many more claim it’s a fable to discourage children from wandering into the wood.

Raul was not whispering. He was screaming.

When his family had come to Vel Anir as refugees they were welcomed and given a parcel of land to farm by House Weiroon. Once Raul’s daughter turned four and displayed an understanding of the arcane he, his wife, and his teenaged son repaid the generosity of Weiroon by fleeing with the child into the Falwood. This disgrace would not go unpunished.

“Which. Way. Did. They. Go.” the pale dreadlord demanded again, her patience waning.

“P-please, no more, you have to help me,” Raul begged.

It had been a few minutes, or perhaps a few hours, that Ania had kept the illusion persisting. Around them they did not see the Falwood but instead saw the burning wreckage of Raul’s farmstead. The flames licking both Ania’s and the desperate farmer’s skin, the stench of death overwhelming their systems, and the building discomfort of being burnt alive. As a dreadlord she was accustomed to the pain and she knew the hallucinations weren’t real but it was still unpleasant.

Finally, the destitute traitor of Vel Anir raised a finger and pointed towards the east, “I sent them that way once I realized we were being followed, now please,” he said between sobs.

Ania severed her bond with Raul. Immediately the visions ceased, the heat of fire ended, and the two found themselves in the small clearing of the Falwood oaks they first met in.

“Thanks,” the woman stated, “not sure where you thought you’d all run off to, as if we wouldn’t pursue you, doesn’t make any sense.”

Raul interrupted, “we will hand over Tanya, just please spare the rest of my family. I didn’t mean for this all to happen. We are still members of House Weiroon, citizens of Vel Anir. We deserve a fair trial, please.”

“Do you hear the whispers?” she questioned but continued speaking without waiting for a response, “some say there are whispers in these woods. I hear them.”

Raul’s face was full of distress, his pursuer had been acting erratic but now he was certain she was completely mad. Suddenly, the dreadlord’s eyes widened as she took several quick steps towards the crouched man, trampling the tender vegetation of the forest. One hand was placed on the hilt of her slender estoc and a sadistic smile formed on her face.

“We aren’t in Vel Anir. House Weiroon considers you a traitor. In my opinion all of your lives are forfeit.”

In a rapid motion her blade was plunged through the fleeing man’s vitals. She turned and headed through the foliage towards the east, using broken branches as guiding signs. Leaving Raul to bleed out, alone. Her job was simply to return with the child. She suspected others may be tasked with the same retrieval mission. It didn’t matter though.

Ania would return with the child or no one would.

 

[Talus]

Talus balanced himself upon a high branch above the forest floor.

He watched as the Dreadlord slaughtered the traitor and then bounded towards the east, quickly disappearing into the foliage beyond his sight. A sigh escaped him, hand running through his hair as he wondered what in the hell he was doing here.

The Houses often pitted themselves against one another. An embarrassment to one could be a new pile of riches to the other. The Game of Houses, Fen had called it. Politics in Vel Anir were as important as armies or Dreadlords. Talus understood that, but he did not understand why Fen cared about this.

His mentor did not hold Allegiance to a Major House. His skills and abilities had never been deemed enough to warrant a second glance, and upon graduation he had tied himself to a minor noble family who lived on the barest edge of Anirian territory. The family apparently loved him as a son, though Talus had never met any of them.

So why then had he been ordered to follow this woman and the runaway she was chasing?

Was there some sort of game being run by Fen towards House Weiroon? The Apprentice did not fully understand, and truthfully he did not care to. The disguise he wore set him apart from the status he ordinarily claimed as a Dreadlord apprentice, and as long as he didn't get caught there would be no concern.

As the Dreadlord disappeared into the foliage, Talus skin turned a translucent blue and he quickly followed within the treetops.

 

[Orival Theodric]

There was a heaviness in the air. He couldn't put his finger on it. The Falwood felt oddly obtuse. The denizens that were not of elvish birth seemed to burrow into trees or climb them. His trip to return home had been a long one. Orival found himself a bit lost even, having rarely ever ventured from Shadokien before this. The adventure he'd been on had left him battered and exhausted. Having to learn lessons that no other adventurers he'd met had bothered to explain to him. As the world become more clear to the pyromancer, the more tired he became.

Today would be no different. Heavy breaths from not far spelled either danger or confusion for the young dancer. Perhaps both. He saw three figures sprinting through the wood. They seemed to be fleeing. The male saw Orival and called to him, panicked.

"HELP! PLEASE HELP US!" The boy cried out. Orival was understandably lost but was not about to turn away a desperate people lost in dense wood. The pyromancer ran quickly to their side and saw a young girl, the older boy and who seemed to be their mother. The boy spoke more.

"We are being hunted. They wish to take my sister away. Please. Can you help us get out of here? We just need to know where the exit of the Falwood is."

Orival was stunned. This must be pertaining to the heaviness he'd been feeling. He looked down at the young girl who did not speak. She looked... Exhausted. Afraid. Of something. It wasn't likely that this boy was lying. The pyromancer had made some decent headway into the woods and would lose a lot of ground if he were to turn back. Their eyes are what persuaded him. They looked so genuinely in need. He could not say no.

He motioned for them to follow, and returned to the path he'd been walking, now only heading the other way. He stayed behind them as that was apparently the side that the pursuers would approach from.

 

[Ania]

It was humid. Ania could feel it on her skin and smell it in the thickness of the air. Humidity wasn’t all too pleasant. It caked dark hair to her forehead, the pores on her face flooded with sweat, and it multiplied the intensity of the sun on her flesh. Ania hated the humidity.

More twigs snapped underfoot as her boots contorted the bed of leaves littering the forest floor. Just as the persistent dreadlord began to lose track of her prey she’d stop, scan her surroundings, and recognize a few more snapped branches or footprints in the muddy soil. Normally when she was tracking her mind singularly focused on the effort. It was a tactic she had developed to avoid distracting herself with inadvertent illusions she may project. Not to mention it helped her ignore the various phantom pains that would grasp at her limbs.

Muttering in the distance. Was it the whispering of the trees? Her imagination? The runaway mother and her children?

Zigzagging through the treeline at a swift pace she stung her cheek on a low hanging branch. Passed by a scarecrow she was certain wasn’t actually there, just her abilities projecting again. Stepping into a large puddle of rainwater mixed with putrid mud. More footsteps, more disturbed tree limbs, she was getting closer. Closer. Ania could almost taste the fear of her targets.

She arrived into another clearing, shadows of leaves dancing off her freckles. Dozens of figures spinning around the corners of her vision. Children, dreadlords from her training days intermixed with faceless proctors. But it wasn’t real, she knew that it was yet another hallucination.

Ania tried to get back to reality as the images of her past fragmented and then reformed in front of her. She stood in the clearing for several moments, meditating. Sometimes that helped. Then she heard it, reality came back in the form of shouts punching into her ear drums.

Cries for help. The brother.

Clad in chainmail and scaled pauldrons the woman exploded from the woods onto a dirt path, kicking up dust in her wake. Vivid blue eyes fixated on the girl, her objective, before she noticed the man they traveled with. Had they hired someone to smuggle them away?

“Friend, you are escorting fugitives of the great city of Vel Anir,” she spoke with a hint of glee, “and as a result you are guilty of crimes against the state.” Whisking messy black hair from her face she started walking towards the scarfed man. She pulled on the gloved fingers of her right hand until the leather mitt slipped off elegantly.

A smile tugged on her cheeks, a jolt of pain shot up her shoulders, as she asked, “what say you in your defense?”

 

[Talus]

Talus kept up within the tree tops.

Moving along the branches was surprisingly easy. In a forest closer to home the task would have been near impossible, but here in the Falwood it proved to be well within his abilities. The trees were taller, branches thicker, and everything within the canopy seemed to meld together.

It was no wonder than in the first Elven War Vel Anir had failed so horrible. Ordinary Humans were forced to March upon the ground, but the Elves? They had the grace to move in ways men could only dream of.

Talus was only glad that he had some of that grace thanks to his magic.

As Ania caught up with the three runaways and confronted the mystery man Talus came to a stop in the trees above. His fingers dug I to the trunk of a tree as he dragged himself closer in an attempt at camouflage. His breath held, and quietly he observed those below.

Who the hell was that guy?

 

[Orival Theodric]

Orival stood steadfast before the the dreadlord, stepping in front of the family. He hated her tone. To think anyone could find remote joy in the suffering of others. He could tell by looking at her that he would be no match in a fight. She was hardened, trained. He had some practice under his belt but overall the pyromancer was a performer. Her accusatory glance and words stung him, but there were questions that needed answering...

Fugitives? They claimed to be hunted. Was their departure some crime, or were they fleeing servitude? He looked behind towards the family again. Their eyes so genuinely full of fear. This woman's eyes reeked of vileness. He looked back, raising a finger pointed at her.

His finger waved around, leaving trails of fire in its wake. "What is this family running from?" His finger wrote in orange, crackling words; "Do they flee duty, or are you their oppressor?" His eyes were stern though he was clearly sweating. His heart told him to face her. His heart was also in his stomach.

All he could think about was that damned carnival. These people held the same eyes as though who he'd seen be imprisoned for others entertainment. And her eyes.

So devoid of humanity. Just like the captors.

 

[Ania]

Ah, so not a hired mercenary. Just a passerby. A do-gooder somebody aiding the scum that had rejected the hospitality House Weiroon had given them.

“They were awarded one of the highest honors of Vel Anir,” she boldly announced. “Their daughter is to become a dreadlord.”

Ania took on a deliberate pace towards the flank of the group, slithering her gaze between Orival and the frightened trio. Circling back to her original position before pacing to the alternative flank. The crazed dreadlord took one step closer to the man and glared at him.

“They were refugees, not used to our customs, and when they came to Weiroon,” she stomped a foot and focused her eyes on the mother, “when they came to my house they were given farmland, a home, and citizenship. So imagine my lord’s broken heart when these miserable farmers refused to honor their civic duty.”

Her face moved back towards Orival as she concluded, “when any child demonstrates an affinity for the arcane their family hands the child over, it is the highest honor of Vel Anir. These wretches fled from the home given to them by my house. Disgracing not only their name but the good name of House Weiroon.”

Ania softened some and lowered her voice, “it’s obvious that you’re in the wrong place, wrong time, so why not run along and forget this mess? Our ways do not concern you.”

 

[Orival Theodric]

Their family hands the child over.

There was no choice in this matter. She made that abundantly clear. She meant to rip a child away from a family of refugees? Who the hell was this harpy? The term dreadlord he'd heard only once before. At the circus. The ones who aided him in rescuing the captives there. THIS was who they were? THIS was their custom?

Orival grew up in Shadokien. A city that encouraged freedom and especially the freedom of magic. He was offered a life where magic career was choice, that anyone's life was up to them. That was the only way. He could not understand or abide by this atrocious tradition in which children's hands were forced into this decision.

"I understand you gave them shelter and a new start..." He wrote quickly, before stepping in front of her path once again.

"But that does not allow you to dictate their lives. They do not want this. Let them go. From what I can tell you've caused much more damage than good." His eyes were serious. The hand gripping his bo staff was shaking as he knew what he'd gotten himself into now. He motioned a hand to the family, indicating that he was willing to protect them.

Stupid. This was stupid. Well, whatever. It's much better than dying at the hands of those pandarann. At least he had an inkling of a chance to reason with this opponent.

 

[Talus]

Talus watched with patient eyes.

He did not know the right move here.

His mentor had sent him on this mission to observe and report, not interfere in any way. Yet if the Dreadlord was killed here then the mission would be a failure. Was that what Fen wanted in the first place? Was this woman supposed to fail?

Or was it a test of his own decision making skills?

Was he supposed to decide what to do and influence events? Briefly he cursed his mentor for not giving him clearer instructions, for not telling him what he was supposed to do. Fingers tightened and he took in a deep breath.

Hand fell to his sword.

He would wait, at least for now.

 

[Ania]

Who did this little man think he was? Ania had offered the man his life and in return he chastises her? Lunacy.

“Do you know how a violin is made?”

As she spoke the lithe woman pantomimed holding and playing a small violin. She strummed the individual strings all across her upper left arm as her right hand drove an imaginary bow back and forth.

“Sometimes they call it a fiddle,” she added, “and it’s a marvelous little instrument. Each string, the bow, the curve of the handle, the type of wood. Every detail is crucial to creating a symphonic melody.”

Ania ceased playing her pretend instrument and furrowed her brow, “now imagine one of the strings is removed. They don’t want the violinist to ‘dictate their lives’ so they just up and leave. What do you think happens to that lovely sound?”

The pursuer cracked her knuckles, emitting a disturbing sound that pierced the silence.

“I can hear the whispers,” she stated while wrapping a hand tightly around the hilt of her blade. “Final offer. Leave. Before I have to dismember you in front of the children.”

 

[Orival Theodric]

So this was his fate, again. Are those who choose to protect always met with this much danger? This way of thinking seemed infallible. In these short months he'd traveled from home he'd seen slavery, invaded a animal's home, and now been faced with the terror that is the dreadlords. How he'd taken for granted his life at home. Working in his mother's restaurant and being around old friends and family. The gentleness he'd known had been stripped from him in less than a hundred days. His entire world view flipped.

Unhinged Maw would still thrive with his mother being head chef. The pyromancer just dreaded the idea of his mother being brought his corpse. No, stop! His thoughts flying each and every way. He was again accepting his death before it was brought to him. Letting fear decide his fate, again. That it was either die or hand this family over. To Hell with that!

His eyes softened and closed, letting out a relieved sigh. Orival's tone seemed... Calm? He wrote slowly.

"Have you ever been to the City of Shadokien?" The silent dancer continued. Keeping his finger at a respectful distance. "There's a restaurant there. A lovely one. Much like your violins, a good quality meal requires many things. Temperature, ingredients, seasoning, the right pan and surface. So let's say one ingredient is to vanish! Making the meal sub optimal. This is distressing. The flavor, or the sound in your case, becomes desolate and undesirable despite the effort that was put in. That ingredient wanted to be a part of a different meal, because it wanted to choose it's own destiny. Do you know what the chef does?" He snapped his fingers and the words all molded into one sentence:

"They adapt. They find a replacement more eager." The words vanished and they were left looking at each other once again, yet his eyes had readjusted to a much more infuriated shape that was hidden by the crimson of his magic speech. "Do you know what the string and the ingredient have in common?" He wrote, a look of hate in his eyes now welling.

"Heat drastically affects both." As the sentence hanged in the air he reached out and grabbed it, ripping it in half. Throwing one half it spelled the word "GO" to the family where they promptly ran. The other became shapeless flame, which he aimed to shove right in Ania's face.

 

[Talus]

Talus grit his teeth, then let out a curse as fire suddenly manifested from nothing and sprang towards his fellow Dreadlord.

An odd gear turned into head, slowly turning before a lever shifted in his head and there was almost a click. Without a second more of hesitation Talus jumped down from the Tree. His skin seemed to turn an odd translucent blue, and he closed the distance between himself an Ania with just a few steps.

His hands found purchase on her, and he quickly shoved her aside from the flame.

The dirt kicked up where he slid, coming to a stop as he quickly made three distinctive signals with his hands well within Ania's eyeview.

They were identifiers, taught to every Dreadlord when they were the Academy. It marked him out as a servant of Vel Anir and the level of Dreadlord he was. Of course, the signal he sent was a lie, claiming he was of the third level rather than an Apprentice.

"Deal with him, I'll get the kids!" He called to Ania as he made a break after the runaways.

 

[Ania]

His parlor trick magic had caught her off guard. This guy was either suicidal or extremely stupid. Ania’s gut figured it was the latter. Once it clicked in her brain that she was under attack a sudden force knocked her to one side, luckily causing the flame to singe a few loose hairs instead of doing any real damage.

It was another male, blonde, and with a gesture of his hands she understood he was another dreadlord. If he thought that he was going to retrieve the girl, claim all of the glory for himself, he would be sorely mistaken.

Ania scrambled back to her feet in a blur before drawing her saber. She looked towards the fire mage who had attempted to assault her first to ensure he wasn’t gearing up for another strike before staring at the fleeing family. Her eyes glowed a bright blue and the mother stood still, followed by the rapid halt of both of her children. A mirage had materialized in front of the three of them, Ania had made certain to stare each of them in the eye when she was first talking with their defender.

Mere moments before this nasty encounter she had been torturing the father figure of this once happy home. Now she was displaying for them his torturous death. Shouts of, “Raul!”, accompanied whimpers and sobs but it seemed to do the trick of slowing their escape.

“Dreadlord, keep them stationary, you are not going to run off with the girl,” Ania warned before looking back at the pyromancer.

Both of her cerulean eyes continued to glimmer as she questioned her adversary, “why don’t you stare into my eyes?” She did not wait for a response, instead plunging forward with her estoc pointed towards his midsection.

 

[Orival Theodric]

The blaze he'd sent towards Ania was interrupted by an ally of hers that he'd not been able to detect. There were two of them. His senses for this 'combat' thing were still dull and he'd wished so badly that wasn't the case. Another situation of life and death right before his eyes. He knew he was in the right. Or at least his mind would not let him think otherwise. He needed to deal with her first, however.

Orival was not quick enough to avoid the estoc entirely, rather he was only able to dodge becoming a skewered lump of meat. The blade cut through the right side fat of his stomach and caused a bleeding gash and a tear through his clothing. He would not listen to her. He kept his eyes on his attackers sword. She'd seemed to put the family under some sort of spell in order to distract them from the reality of their situation.

That meant there were two obstacles preventing their extractions. The newly found dreadlord sprinting their way and the woman in front of him who was penetrating their minds with vile magic. The blonde one would be catching up to them in no time. He had to get to them as soon as he could. Meaning he couldn't allow him to be out of this fight.

Orival, keeping his eyes deep on the estoc, tapped his two index fingers together and from that extended his arms. This created eight shard sharped spells of fire. They lingered there facing Ania as Orival turned tail to catch up to Talus. One of the shards would let out a sharp ring and then fling itself at Ania. Their directions changing to face wherever she may move. They would fire out two seconds after one another.

The pyromancer gripped his bo staff tight and charged towards Talus as fast as he could, hoping he could make it in time. Making sure his footsteps were loud enough for the dreadlord to hear.

 

[Talus]

The children were quicker than he would have guessed at first.

Perhaps it was panic and fear that drove them, spikes of adrenaline that pushed them to move far faster than they should have been able to. Talus could have used his magic to catch up, but the sound behind him quickly forced a realization.

They could always catch up to the runaways after, but if this man made too much of a ruckus there was more than just a lone defender that could fall upon them.

This was the Falwood, home of Vel Anir's old foe.

With single step Talus drew his sword, his fingers twitching as he suddenly whirled around on his heel. The blade in his hand swept forward, cutting low as his other hand drew a small knife and flicked it forward towards the interlopers stomach.

 

[Ania]

Ania saw the eight shards form and her eyes went wide. Before she could strike out at Orival he fled after the dreadlord who had assisted her earlier. Just then the first of the firebolts went sung out a high pitched chime before soaring towards her.

The deft servant of Vel Anir narrowly dodged the first attack by ducking towards the right. As her feet slid on dirt the second flame was fired on her direction and despite her best efforts it stung her left thigh. She winced in pain from the burn while simultaneously the mother and two children grasped at their left thighs and cried out in pain.

Thinking quickly Ania focused and severed her link with the young girl. She was to become a dreadlord and if possible Ania wished to spare her any undue trauma. The child’s brother and mother received no such generosity.

While severing the bond the seasoned dreadlord had lost focus on the flame chimes. The third ball of fire erupted on her abdomen, emanating in every direction from her epicenter. She dropped her blade as the wind was knocked from her lungs. A fourth onslaught of blaze connected with her right bicep and the burning sensation caused a scream of pain.

In the distance both the mother and teenaged boy cried out in agony as they felt the mutual pain of searing flesh.

Luckily, the intense heat served as a wake up call. Ania ducked down and rolled, avoiding both the fifth and sixth shard of magic fire. Gracefully her left hand retrieved her sword from the ground as she pivoted to sidestep the seventh flame orb. When the eighth sailed around it made contact with her left shoulder which caused the mother to let loose an awful groan but for Ania the pain felt mild.

“Underestimated the little mage,” she stated as her eyes fixated on Talus and Orival who seemed ready to trade blows.

 

[Orival Theodric]

Orival could hear his previous opponent being struck, but when it happened the people he was trying to save seemed to meet the same fate. All except the little girl. What kind of vile magic was being thrown about?

The second dreadlord was prepared for him. The pyromancer was feeling much more confident in the fight now that he'd landed a couple hits. Perhaps a dangerous way of thinking but he would need this confidence to triumph. His foe launched a two attacks at him at once and if it weren't for him being a dancer he may have been found dead this moment.

He hopped lightly upward, his foot coming down light as feather on Talus' sword where stood balancing on it. The dagger he was able to knock aside just in time with his bo staff. The evasion combo left him stumbling a bit and he leaped off the sword and landed on his feet but lacking grace.

He was closer though not on the same side of the family, leaving him still at a disadvantage. Their focus was pulled which was a good thing. He was trying very hard not to use explosive fire or anything area damaging. All these factors were leaving his brain tired. He positioned himself to fight with his staff, and then waved a finger towards Talus.

"How is this any longer worth your time?" His appendage spelled out in bright flame.

 

[Talus]

There was no answer.

Talus twisted, but it was not his body that moved. A strange after-image of the Dreadlord seemed to detach from his body, shifting and taking four steps within the time it took to blink.

The image swept it's sword low, cutting towards Orival's knees.

As the blade swung Talus' body seemed to snap into the ghost. By the time Orival finished writing within the air Talus had already moved to his side and was sweeping his sword to cut the man's tendon.

 

[Ania]

The other two could fight all they wished. Ania was singularly focused on her objective, the child. With the burn on her thigh, arm, and torso still radiating heat she limped towards the familial trio.

Recognizing that abducting the girl would be simpler with her family members out of the way a plan began to formulate in her brain. The dreadlord closed her eyes and concentrated.

A massive migraine began to form, pounding against her skull and causing her balance to waiver. Simultaneously the teenage son of the farmstead vomited before falling over. The sensation of multiple burns combined with the splitting headache made the mother scream out in pain. Ania focused and her headache worsened.

”Come on lady, give it up, pass out,” she thought to herself.

Just as the intensity was near a breaking point for Ania the mother of the magic imbued child fainted and collapsed onto the dirt.

There was nothing physically impacting the parent or her son. It was all mental. But Ania had learned that overwhelming pain was a great way to overload a commoner's senses until they let consciousness slip away. She slowly slid her eyes open, sweat beading on her forehead from the headache she had just forced herself to suffer. The relief of the pain going away was almost as exhausting as the pain itself.

Ania shambled over to the little girl, reaching out her hand with a smile and offering, “come here, let’s get you out of this terrible place.”

 

[Orival Theodric]

Orival was waiting for a response so intently that the shimmer of the man in front of him was not remotely visible to the pyromancer. When Talus finally came into view, it was too late. He tried to shift but only did so enough to avoid something vital getting hit. Even still the blade would tear through his leg and render him completely immobile. His mouth behind his mask would make the expression of someone screaming in utter agony, yet no sound would leave his lips. He hit the ground with an enormous thud and gripped his leg with both hands trying to quell the bleeding the best he could.

His eyes now locked on Ania, who seemed to be successful in her retrieval of this poor girl. What could he do now? He couldn't lay there and bleed like a fool. He knew deep down somewhere that he would never be able to catch them. His tenacity just wouldn't slow. He gripped his newfound wound and expelled flames from his hands, cauterizing it instantaneously. He let out another inaudible shriek. The pain was so severe he swore he would pass out. It luckily just left him in a conscious haze. He stood up holding tight to his bo staff and dragging one leg behind the other towards Ania.

He in a vain attempt pushed Talus out of the way. It would feel more playful than anything as the dancers strength was clearly sapped in this moment. When he finally reached the femme dreadlord, he collapsed again. It took everything for him to just reach her. He knew he couldn't save the girl any longer, as he lay defeated on his knees in front of the family.

He looked upward towards the eyes of the child who'd put so much faith in him to protect her and her family. He feigned a sorry smile and raised a finger to her. "I'm so sorry. Be as brave as you can." He wrote, finally falling from his knees to the dirt beneath him. Awake and alive, but very much broken.

 

[Talus]

Talus felt the shove against his hand, but he knew the signs.

His blade had cut deep, not deep enough to kill, but the man would soon fall. Sure enough after pulling himself a few steps the pyromancer collapsed onto the ground with a dull thud, crashing into the ground and writing something before dipping his head low.

For a moment The Dreadlord Apprentice lingered where he stood, glancing at his dwarven made sword before stepping forward.

He could see Ania beckoning towards the child.

A part of him wanted to finish off the interloper, cut him down and simply be at the end of this, but the better part of him told him not to. There was still something to be learned here, and Fen had always said never to kill anyone when there was something to be gained.

Slowly Talus walked up besides the fallen man, crouching down and speaking low. "You could have just walked away."

He commented, leaning on his sword and watching Ania.

Out of the corner of his eye he made sure the man truly stayed down, still weary of being torched.

 

[Ania]

The pyromancer fell, bloodied and weak. It was a predictable end as far as Ania was concerned. The stinging of her flesh where his magic had made contact ensured she was quite happy that he now resembled flank steak.

With a firm hand the dreadlord grasped at the child’s wrist. The young girl stared at Orival and was resistant to come with Ania for a brief second but fear quickly corrected her actions as she walked with her abductor towards Talus.

“He’s a fool,” she said referring to the fallen mage, “leave him there to rot or finish the job. As for them,” she gestured with a finger towards the unconscious mother and son, “they’ve committed crimes against Vel Anir. I was going to end them here but if you’d prefer to have them stand trial I won’t stop you.”

Pulling the target child closer the resolute dreadlord informed Talus, “I have strict orders to get the girl to Weiroon Manor.” A smile emerged on her freckled face as she added, “I’ll assume you will not defy my house’s direct order.”

 

[Orival Theodric]

He forced himself up to his knees again. Talus was right. The pyromancer could have just avoided the conflict entirely. No, in all reality that was never an option. The family's and especially the young girls eyes. How could anyone in their right mind ignore that? He clung tight to his bo staff as he lifted himself. He wasn't nearly as injured as his body had ascertained, though he still was in no position to run. His eyes were no longer afraid. All he felt was anger. Anger at himself for being so weak and anger at the two in front of him who had the nerve to believe themselves just. They mustn't know what a word such as that even means.

He let that anger fall back. He was changing, he could tell this much. He wasn't the naive boy he was when arrived at that dreadful circus. He tried his best to ignore the words that came from either of their mouths. Looking solely at the family. He closed his eyes and pulled his face mask down, revealing his face. He was handsome, young with olive colored skin and an innocence lost in his eyes. He smiled wild for the family and raised a finger their direction. "Don't fret. This is but one loss in a series of many battles to come. I'll make sure she finds her way out of the arms of these bastards." He didn't know really what he could accomplish but he didn't care. He meant what he said. The little girl's eyes welling with tears. Fear repelling her from speaking anything.

"These are just people. Like me, like you. I know they seem scary but don't let that break your will, okay?" He said directly towards the girl this time. "You don't have to force yourself to smile like me, but you don't have to listen to them when they tell you to frown either. I know you'll be okay. Trust me." He was feigning as much positivity as he could manage. He clasped his hands together and opened them to reveal a butterfly of green flame, floating towards her and vanishing into sparks. His eyes now looking up at Ania.

"Don't be too rough with the girl, please. Even a wretch like yourself should understand suffering." He motioned his eyes towards her fire wounds, his smile holding fast. It should be enough to convince everyone he was okay. Though deep in himself there had been a grave change. And one that led him to desire something he'd never felt before this journey.

The death of another. He would have Ania's head if it were to be the last thing he did.

 

[Talus]

Talus listened to the words carefully, glancing over at Ania for just a brief moment.

In the back of his mind he wondered who the hell this man was, though he quickly realized that it didn't truly matter. A name would do him no good, and the intentions wouldn't either. A sigh escaped him, and he reeled back.

His foot would crash into the man's face, hopefully driving him into unconsciousness.

"Weiroon Manor is far from here." Talus commented to the Dreadlord as he cleaned off his sword.

Lips thinned as he looked at the fallen mother and son, his head shaking slightly as he dismissed all thought of them. They were not his responsibility. "I'll come with you."

He said as he stepped over the fallen warrior.

 

[Ania]

Hate welled over Ania's eyes as she looked at the insect who dared stand before the might of Vel Anir. He was still flapping his gums and trying to issue commands to her, an agent of righteous judgement on a populace that deserved no mercy for their crimes.

Cobalt eyes stared the mage down as she disclosed, "I understand suffering more than you could ever know." Brushing a strand of hair from her face she added, "suffering has made me stronger than you could ever be. This girl will become a great dreadlord one day and she won't remember you, or her family, but she will cherish the lessons she learns through the trials she is to endure. She will be just like me," she clarified, finishing her diatribe with a smile.

The pale dreadlord bent over, wanting to ensure he could see the determination in her face and sprinkling in one last tidbit of advice, "nothing in this world comes easy. We all suffer, in one way or another." And abruptly, her cohort issued a kick towards his cranium.

As much as it pained her to admit it the injuries she had endured from the firebug did make travel uncomfortable. Having someone to watch her back would be advantageous and would help to assure the success of her mission.

"Very well, let us proceed," Ania ordered while tugging the child in tow.