Dreadlords Taskforce

[Zana]

"You have all been chosen because you are the best. Whether that is in your class, your unit, or your order."

General Garret Marr stood in front of an assembled group of thirty strong, his hands clasped calmly behind his back. Marr had always had a gentle manner about him, Zana thought, softly spoken and easy to smile. She'd had a hard time believing he had issued the killing blow to a Dreadlord by himself during the Revolution. Today he was dressed in a simple white shirt and breeches; no pomp, no circumstance. Just one of them. It put several of the Guardsmen at ease. She could see it in the way they stood relaxed even whilst at attention. For the Dreadlords and Initiates gathered amongst them however Marr barely seemed to hold their attention, their eyes kept drifting to her.

"What we are asking of you today is no easy thing, and we are asking. After this brief any one of you is welcome to walk away, though Dreadlord Circe here will wipe your memories of anything you hear here today. This is classified. If any of you are caught discussing this group beyond these walls will be executed without trial."

Zana tried not to wince.

"You have been chosen to join a special taskforce. One that will be working directly under Archon Morid and General Morid to hunt and capture rogue Archon's," a murmur broke out amongst the group at that revelation. Most of them had been involved with hunting Dreadlords down and bringing them home but Archon's were rare. There was barely ten of them named now, and most had stayed loyal after the Revolution.

Most.

"Over the next few months you will be trained to withstand attacks from the highest class of mage. Archon Morid, if you would," Marr half turned to her as if to motion her forward. Zana took a deep breath and stepped to the front. Unlike Marr she had dressed smartly. Polished boots, fitted beige breeches, and a military jacket in a deep blue with a gold sash around the middle that matched the decorative braiding. The sword she had used to kill so many of her own hung at her side gleaming in the sun and was a sharp contrast to the slight but obvious curve of her pregnancy. She clasped her hands behind her back.

"General Marr has said all that needed saying. I won't go easy on you because our enemy won't, and I won't lie to you and say you'll all survive this mission. I will look at none of you poorly if you choose to leave now. Those who wish to stay, please join me. Those who wish to leave, General Marr. You have ten minutes."

 

[Maseno Luana]

Of those assembled, one for certain was maintaining absolute attention upon General Marr. Though the spell of Dreadlord Zana's presence never truly wore off, Maseno had come to know it far better than most. His mentor for many years now, she'd become something more beyond just that to him. Kin, for certain, and he wondered if it would pain her at all that he would be the first to step forward to her front when given the final choice on the matter of this particular mission.

His training had been going very well and while he knew he still had leagues to go to reach the level she stood at, Maz felt confident he was on his way there. Zana was the most challenging instructor he'd trained with - likely utilizing tactics of instruction that the Revolution had meant to banish. But would they measure up to what she offered here and now? A chance to push himself beyond his known limits?

Had she been going easy on him all along?

He hoped not, but he could not help his doubts.

If he was to become an Archon as many believed he would, then he must be able and willing to withstand the worst they could muster.

"I am with you, Archon."

 

[Henk]

The work that the cloaked, bearded figure had been putting in towards proving himself an asset to Vel Anir had seemingly paid off. Once an exile, he'd returned stronger, smarter, and more determined. It had taken a great betrayal to find his flame, but found it was.

Still, that Henk had been summoned to this briefing felt both monumental and bittersweet at the same time. This is what he'd wished for, was it not? The opportunity to hunt those who had undermined, sabotaged, and brought about the rebellion that had torn his world apart?

To train under someone as powerful as the lovely Zana Morid, a legendary figure who would grant him the knowledge and strength he needed, it was a gift that he'd never expected. Even so, a voice echoed in the back of the scar faced Dreadlord's head as he listened carefully to the words spoken to him from Archon Morid. Not his own, but that of a woman. Of a promise he'd made.

"Make me a promise. If you catch wind about the location of one of his followers..."

"Run."

"Please, just run. Get back home, report your findings."


If he became a part of this team, he would be going against Noel's wishes. Instead of putting his safety first, he would be volunteering to be the first one forward, the tip of the spear. There would be more pain in his future, more death and destruction, anathema to what he'd sworn.

"I am with you, Archon."

Henk's breath stalled; the eye that wasn't blinded moved to look at Maseno. A fine man, he was. Though Henk had heard doubts about the class succeeding his own, the Luana boy was a shining example of one who'd have done well in any class of Dreadlords. It brought a smile to his lips, seeing that familiar fire again, inside somebody who hadn't gone through the extensive pain his own generation had been put through.

There was something to protect here, even after the betrayal he'd suffered. He'd come back not for the city, but for its people. People like Maseno. If he could harness the power within him, hone his skills to be used against the people that threatened them all, he could protect anybody.

Looking back up at Zana, the Dreadlord replied similarly to Luana.

"If you will have me, Lady Morid... I would offer myself."

Schwarz would have to forgive him. If Vel Anir gave him a chance to strike back and become something more, it would be foolish to turn it down.

 

[Alistair Krixus]

The best? Alistair liked to think that of himself, but it also hurt to remind himself that there was a distinct lack of Dreadlords of his age since most of them had abandoned their duties. Maybe that was why he was here, but it also could be that he had worked his ass off in the past months to make up for his betrayer classmates.

Working his ass off had caused a lot of problems for him. Including the big one. Alistair was blind now. Well, kind of. He couldn't see non-magical things, not normally anyway. The incident in the plains, with Kasim, had robbed him of his normal sight, but in return, he had been gifted another curse.

Alistair could see the aura of magical things as clear as day. He could see the Dreadlords around him and their immediate area. As long as some form of mana was touching it, then Alistair could see it. This new sight had opened Alistair to a whole new world of magic, able to grasp and understand the arcane on a whole new level. It was incredibly helpful in combat but looked far less impressive when he ran into walls.

Of course, Alistair had worked a way around that. It was excruciatingly painful, but Alistair had engraved his signature eye runes on his grey and hazy eyes. He could activate them when he needed to if he really needed to see. This was one of these moments, he needed to memorize what magical auras were connected to who.

It was an accidental sacrifice because of his own foolishness but he it had made him stronger. He would become strong and bring back his classmates kicking and screaming if he had to. First, he had to learn how to kill an Archon. One specific former Archon flashed in his mind. He needed to learn how to fight Gilram.

The others that had been chosen for this task force were certainly some of the best in his eyes. He had worked with many of them before. Maseno would be one of the best in his class when it came time to graduate, and...was that who he thought it was?

What the hell was he doing here? Henk had just strolled back in after abandoning all of them. He had almost brought him back in their last encounter, but Edric had stopped that. Alistair could have stared holes into the back of Henk's cloak for a moment before he corrected himself and looked ahead.

"I am with you, Archon."

 

[Zana]

Dreadlords and Guardsmen alike slowly drifted to Zana. In the end it was only five who joined the General either without meeting her eyes or glancing at her with equal mixes of guilt and shame. She tried to give them all a reassuring smile either way; this was not a choice to make idly and she suspected that even amongst those who had chosen to stay thus far there would be more drop outs. But a choice was why she had fought so hard in the revolution. She could never blame them for using that hard won freedom.

Her heart did squeeze at a few of the additions who joined her. Guardsmen she had served with back when she was still learning her new found humanity, Dreadlords she had fought beside, and of course. Mas. She had half hoped he would shake his head and leave so she would not have to worry about him but she could no more deny him his choice than she could deny those who left. Still, it worried her. Not least because the Luana family had already lost so much.

Others she recognised from the meticulously made profiles. Profiles she and Talus had selected from a greater pile. There had been merits and downfalls to each of them but in them, both she and her husband had seen something special. Something that went far beyond their strength in power.

"Please," she smiled once the others had been filed out of the arena and she was alone with those who had remained. "Call me Zana. Over the next few months my husband and I will strive to train you as best as we can to survive the most brutal of magics. If at any time, any time, you feel you can no longer do this there is no shame in leaving," she held each of their gazes as best she could as she spoke waiting for some sign they understood her sincerity. With the seriousness out of the way she nodded.

"I would like to start with seeing a demonstration of where each of you are in your training - blade or magic. It will tell me where I need to start."

 

[Ivan Skender]

One month.

Not more than that. One month since he'd returned from Fel'Darrah, and he had been thrown into a mission like this. When he had first received this summon for a classified mission, he thought the game was up; that someone had witnessed what had happened in the City of Peace when he'd helped Edric escape prison. In short, he thought he had been caught.

A moment of panic had flown through him then, but as soon as it had come, the adrenaline was gone. Classified missions had never been that uncommon during his time at the Academy, so in all likelihood, this was not an elaborate scheme by the military to bust him. He figured that if Vel Anir did suspect something, then they wouldn't play games with him; they'd just drag him from his bed in the middle of the night, chop his head off, and be done with it.

Indeed, as he heard General Marr and Archon Morid's words, he understood that he was not in immediate danger... yet.

Be it as it may, he stood-by as both officers spoke, his face inscrutable, and his breath calm and contained, even while his head raced with each word.

"Hunting rogue Archons... How fitting." - He thought to himself, wondering if he would find Edric again during the hunt, and if so, whether the little prick would rat him out.

It was then that he realised Zana had stopped talking. He understood her offer; leave if you want to - it meant it was not too late to turn back and not risk his cover. It was not too late to be safe. No more than a few seconds eclipsed before he made his choice: No. If he was going to do this, if he was really going to do this, then he needed to be above any and all suspicion, even if it meant walking into the wolf's den.

It was so that he found himself hovering towards the Archon, taking a spot at the back of the group, just behind his classmate, Maseno Luana.

As Zana's demeanour seemed to soften, he too forced himself to relax. He knew full well that one of the fool-proof ways to get caught was not even so much to act erratically, but rather failing to act normally. By the time the Archon had finished speaking, he was calm enough that her invitation for a demonstration brought a twinkle to his eyes.

Now that he could do.

He walked over to a weapon's rack that had been set against a wall. From it, he took out a war-hammer.

As he held it in his arm, several thin, viscous-looking black rays started sprouting from his arm, twisting and turning as they headed down the length of his veins towards the hilt of the war-hammer. Slowly but surely they came to envelop the weapon, in what those who recognized his magic would know was an enchantment of the object. The goal was that once he was finished, the war-hammer would decay everything it came into contact with, at least for a period of time.

As the black veil finally receded from the weapon, he turned to face his comrades and the Archon.

- "Ready!" - ​

 

[Henk]

That was it then. He'd gone from disgraced to chosen in but a few sentences.

There was that momentary self-doubt within him, of course; What would those he'd turned his back on think of his return? Would he be shunned? Would they vilify him? Henk was not oblivious to the piercing gaze of a certain Krixius. Their last encounter had been tumultuous, and whilst Henk had never truly acted against Alistair, he knew well that redemption was far from within his grasp.

He would prove his resolve through results. Those doubts from both his mind and the mouths of others would be silenced.

"I would like to start with seeing a demonstration of where each of you are in your training - blade or magic. It will tell me where I need to start."

Henk nodded up to the Archon, quietly rising from his seat and carefully removing his cloak, folding it neatly and placing it where he'd been watching her from. There was a time not so long ago when Henk carried no weapons or armor into battle with him; he'd relied solely on the utility of his limited light magic to carry him through his service as Initiate with as little bloodshed as he could manage.

The removal of his cloak showed this to no longer be the case.

Long guards adorned both of his arms, seemingly made of leather, but with weather and sheen across their surface that seemed to suggest they were much harder than any ordinary material. Ralene, their creator, had seen to that, as well as the unique scale design that allowed him to open layered flaps for finer tuning of his magic.

Henk had made his own addition to the guards, having added an additional piece that fit over his shoulders and across the top of his back, held snugly in place by small rivets. At his hips, Katars were fastened tightly to his legs with leather straps in a way that allowed him to easily retrieve them. These weapons, too, had been altered, though he'd yet to test them in an actual fight.

Turning to follow the blonde, somewhat pompous-looking Initiate's lead, he finally met Alistair's judging gaze, Rather, what was left of it. Henk knew the look of blindness well, sporting it in one of his own eyes. That Krixus could be so obviously looking at him, when he could obviously not see was... curious. Something had happened since last they met, obviously.

Tearing his eyes back to the young man who'd prepared himself for a display of strength for the Archon, Henk too, readied his body.

Taking in a deep, steady breath, the Dreadlord eased the scales of his armor open, allowing the sunlight overhead to begin sinking into the flesh of his arms, the pores on his face, and the healed-over gouges that littered it. A familiar heat began to boil in his stomach, radiating like the embers of a furnace, sparking tendrils of fire through his veins.

After a moment, a glowing sheen began to cover his skin, and light leaked from the scales in his armor like sun cutting through fog. Henk glanced quickly over the weapon in Skendar's grip, noting the enchantments placed upon it. His katars would be rendered useless fairly quickly by the thing's might.

Instead, he widened his posture and merely raised his hands, pushing the light he'd accumulated out of his hands into a solid ball, before bringing his palms together, bending and shaping the light with deft fingers into a glimmering, featureless blade of luminance suitable to defend against such a threat.

"Likewise."

 

[Livia Quinnick]

There were a few things becoming quite clear to the Initiate that hung back from the crow gathered, arched brows knitting together as the freedom of choice was given to them. There was no stopping her from refusing the summons, but she had made a promise to herself to get as much experience while being an Initiate. She was no powerful force like many of her classmates, but Livia was proven to be adept in her coursework, and her precision as a marksman was irrefutable.

Her ability to always find what is missing or sought after had been classed as nonsense while her father had been alive, but the circumstances that came from his death led the beginnings of her corrupted magic. She was admitted to the Academy at once, trained carefully and at an arm's length for fear of what her corruption would do, but Livia could always keep her focus when given tasks for hunting and scouting.

As those that had gathered began to ready their chosen weapons, Livia made a delicate scrunching of her face when she nocked an arrow to her bow. She was not made to be the most powerful, not when her strengths were laid out in stealth work. Working with daggers was not the same as the feeling of power that came from her weapon's when drawing. Anyone with a trained eye could shoot a bullseye, but very few were able to do so without planting their feet and steadying their aim. She was not the type to seek out honour and glory, not when she preferred to be kept out of the limelight. She would rather be the weapon with no name than the heroine favoured by all, and her olivine eyes turned to land on the Archon they had all given their word to. Her story was known by many, in some shape or form, and many looked upon her with disdain. Quinnick liked to think she understood the decision Archon Morid made, that she too would make the same decision if it came down to it.

She was years away from such a decision. Livia Quinnick was here to train, to offer her services in tracking for this confidential collection. It was best to kept a low profile, she thought to herself as she lifted her shoulders and readied her aim to a target several feet beyond those that had gathered. Without so much taking the time to aim, she loosed the arrow and sent it to the rightful mark, repeating this a few times over and collecting arrows in close proximity within the small circle at the target center.

 

[Alistair Krixus]

Alistair watched the others walk over and take up their own weapons, or watched is a strange word, but it was the most normal for him to use. It was incredible. The interplay of magic and each of the weapons the other members used would have remained a mystery until he experienced them himself or saw that at work, but that was no longer the case.

The aura around the hammer was the perfect imagery of rot and decay, he did not have to guess what it would do. As for Henk, he could see the magical energy rap around the scaled gauntlets. It was a well-crafted creation, obviously made by Ral from what he could tell.

The bow and arrows used by Livia were not as easy to read, as the aura around the weapons came across as clear, but very pointed. It had a direction to go and it was going to go there, so some type of directional or seeking magic.

Alistair made his way over to the weapons, and he could still see the faint outline because of the recent interaction of the others. He probably looked like a blind man trying to look for a weapon, as his hands felt over each item until settling on a well-balanced sword. He still had ways to see the non-magical, but that required magical energy, and he want to save as much as possible.

Once the sword was firmly in his grasp, he went through several motions and stances of practice. They were rather unique to Alistair as they were a mix of Anirian, Imperial, and Tyrian sword forms that he was in the process of mixing together for the most ideal style.

His abilities were not as flashy as the others, so he would practice with his sword, until someone asked him to demonstrate, or just challenged him. All of these individuals had strong hyper-focused styles of magic, so Alistair had to put his faith in his knowledge.

He had a wide array of runes and college magic to use, and his sword skills had been sharpened since he was young. His power did not come from raw strength but from experiences.

 

[Maseno Luana]

He would not be the first one to move forward to begin the lesson, even if that was very much in his personality to do so. Maseno held back, heart pounding strongly within his chest in apprehension. Was this fear of his comrades in arms? It might've been. While Henk and Alistair had only been a class above him and he'd seen and heard of their powers before, he had no direct experience with either of his senior classmates. Ivan, of course, a solid contender among them - one of the most relentless and vicious of their class and one he ranked among the top. Then there was Livia; a girl from his own year that he would confess to have not given enough time or, likely heed.

That she was here had proven his inaction to pay the girl her due respect was a fault he would need to correct. Though they rarely crossed paths before, they would be doing so now with far more regularity. It behooved him to learn more of her and from her and he looked forward to being humbled by his own ignorance of her prowess.

All the more, it was the words Zana had spoken to him years ago that had changed the course of how he lived and learned at the Academy.

Part of having this amount of power is knowing when not to use it.
Let your fellow students shine too or they'll come to resent you, Proctors too.​

And so for going on seven years now, Maseno had held back and restrained his powers while among his fellow Initiates and Proctors, as well even on solo missions. Allowing himself freedom to expand and push the limits and boundaries of them only when in the private tutoring of the Archon they now stood before. One by one, as each of the others stepped forward to the challenge, Maz watched them with a quietude of someone who was uncertain. What if he seriously hurt one of them? What if he killed one of them?

In the old days, it would have meant simply that they had not been up to the task. He wasn't sure if he would have accepted it so easily then, but he felt at war against the idea of accepting it now. These were people who felt compelled to put their lives on the line so that others could live. People who, maybe, held one or many others dear to them and kept them in their minds as they sought to find the limitations of their own selves. Maseno was here for his sister, but also for all the other sisters and brothers, daughters and sons, fathers and mothers, friends and family that existed beyond their small world at the Academy. The ones whose lives were now at stake under the threat of rogue Archons.

Failure was not an option.

His gaze shifted slowly to Zana, the uncertainty most evident there as she knew him better than anyone else in his life. It questioned her silently the many things he would not voice.

Archon Morid met his gaze and gave him a solemn nod.

Very well. Maseno reached up to push his travel robe from his shoulders and deposit it where he stood. With a deep and steady breath, the young man coiled his hands lightly at his side, sloughed the shackles of his magic, and let the energy he commanded swell to fill the chamber like an overbearing heat. When he looked up at the other four, it was with the brilliant golden glow of power within his eyes. He reached up with one hand, ensnared each one within his control, and made to lift them bodily off the floor then throw them mightily at the wall behind them with all the force of a landslide.

If they wanted to survive Archons, he'd be their first step to getting there and become their target to take down.

 

[Zana]

Zana leaned against the wall as Dreadlords, Initiates and Guardsmen alike picked up weapons or began displays of their own magic. On one hand their selection process had been a touch random; the powers and their respective specialisms were a varied mix. The General had clearly thought they were trying to cast as wide a net as possible but it was far more nuanced than that. Each of their skills could compliment one another and be taught to work well as a group as well as be a unit of power on their own. They could see it on paper but seeing it in person was another matter entirely.

She watched two guardsmen pick up axes when one was known for the trident and the other her skill on a horse with a small frown, and then a Dreadlord whose magic involved mirrors instead practised the art of his college tutoring. They all eyed each other across the yard with that age old suspicion and cold calculation. Even a few years of the New Order had not been enough to rid them of old prejudices and habits.

The initiates were better about displaying their true gifts and talents though whether that was the arrogance of youth or signs of the old ways receding was yet to be seen.

Grey, the direwolf who was her shadow always, slunk across the courtyard to sit at her side. Absentmindedly she ran a hand through his fur and scratched behind his ear. She caught Mas' eye when he still lingered at the edge. For his own safety she had often told him to hold back his powers, especially after the incident with Houri, but here - today - there would be no consequences to his or anyone's actions. Her nod came with a smile that turned into a rather delighted laugh as her whole unit went careening into the wall.

"Now, will you all stop being so pretty about what you can do, and show me? There are no punishments here, no limits. I'll intervene before you can kill someone, just... let go."

 

[Ivan Skender]

A snarky smirk drew across his features as he glanced his opponent up-and-down. Walking into the room, Ivan had not even noticed the man now facing him - lost in his thoughts, as he was - something which he now felt he needed to address.

Henk caught his attention immediately after this first glimpse, not because of the light-sabre - which was, in all honesty, a very good counter to his war-hammer's magical properties - but rather because Ivan recognized almost immediately who this was: Henk the rogue; the upperclassman who had turned-coat for Archon Gilram... only to turn it again for the Republic.

"What a mess."

Ivan tightened his grip on the war-hammer. This was a mess though, that could serve him well. With this conspicuous repute, Henk would surely be regarded with the utmost suspicion by everyone else in the task-force... a suspicion that would, in turn, not fall upon him.

He exhaled, his gaze fixing on that of his opponent. It was as he was about to launch his attack across the room though, that Ivan was suddenly projected against the wall. Momentarily stunned, he was quick to come to his senses once again. Landing on his own two feet, he quickly realised what had happened when he saw Maseno’s luminous eyes and sanguine demeanour.

“That little shit.” - He thought to himself, annoyed not so much at his colleague per se, nor at the fact he’d just been thrust against a wall, but rather that he’d let himself be caught in a damn surprise attack.

Keeping Henk in his peripheral vision, he lunged instead at Luana. With the two being part of the same class, Ivan had seen Maseno Luana fight fairly often, and while this sudden outburst of power was rather surprising, the blonde knew that his classman’s greatest strength was achieved from a distance; that was, with projectiles in addition to magic. Ivan knew well enough that Maseno was lethal with any sort of ranged weapon, and especially if he managed to get some distance to his target… which was why he wasn’t going to let that happen.

Swinging his war-hammer on an ascending motion, Ivan swiftly closed the gap between the two. He manoeuvred the weapon so that it would land with a heavy impact, while, on his free, right hand a black aura suddenly appeared. As he approached, the aura materialised into black-and-ashen flames, a fire of decay that Ivan projected against Maseno as the two of them were about to lock into combat.

Their magic was - apart from a spectacular display, obviously - also completely contrasting aesthetically. While Maseno’s magic was bright and luminous, Ivan’s was dark and gloomy; not only did these flames burn in shadowy colours, but they also seemed to absorb and dampen any light that surrounded them.

In short, they were a darkness coming to engulf the light.​

 

[Henk]

Henk looked across at the young Skender, his expression unchanging as he brandished the glowing blade in front of him. It looked. for all intents and purposes, to be a standoff between the two of them. Ivan was not yet a graduate of the Academy, but that gave Henk no reason to underestimate the man; If he was here, he was capable. Like the coiling of a spring, he felt his legs tense as he prepared to counter and strike down whatever attempt at offense the boy wished to loose upon him.

The soles of his boots had just begun to slide across the dirt as Maseno struck first, unleashing a display of formidability that served his reputation well, flinging the man across from him against a wall with a wave of sheer force. Henk stopped, watching as the pair of them engaged one another in combat, leaving him without a target.

All the better, because as ready as the once-exile looked to be, he was struggling.

"Now, will you all stop being so pretty about what you can do, and show me? There are no punishments here, no limits. I'll intervene before you can kill someone, just... let go."

Zana's words had reached Henk, but he wished that they hadn't. Whereas he'd been so sure of himself a moment ago, the order to use the full extent of his strength caused him to stiffen, the heat built inside of him beginning to fluctuate and flicker like a suffocating fiame.

Let go?

He gritted his teeth in frustration his arms trembling a moment as his pale blue eye looked over at Alistair and Livia, the other two participants. An old friend and a child. It was not that he did not trust the Archon to stop any fatalities from occurring, but she asked for his utmost, and...

Henk wasn't sure what his utmost was...

He'd grown exponentially stronger since his initial departure, it was true. A new wellspring of power had seemingly been struck within him, and he improved with each battle he had. It was that wellspring, though, that petrified him; It was his restraint that allowed him to control the rapidly-growing strength that he'd been gifted with. Were he to let go as she'd asked of him, he wasn't sure what would happen, or that he would come back from it.

Still so soft.

That nagging voice in the back of his mind reared its head again, causing him to wince. It was right, though... for all his improvement, he was still too prone to emotion. 'Calm down. You can't afford to panic now.' Henk chided himself and dispelled his worries. 'Just give her as much as you think you can control. Don't overthink this.'

Shifting his position, Henk slowly turned his body to face Krixus and Quinnick, light-blade still in hand as he let more light into his flesh, his muscles flexing as his temperature increased further, steam shooting from the scales in his armor to accompany the light. Livia was looking elsewhere, and he wasn't the type for cheap shots...

Time to let Alistair make his feelings about him known, then.

The pressure in his legs released as he sprang forward, bringing his sword hand behind him and swinging it forward with all of his might, hurling the blade at Krixus. The moment it left the Dreadlord's hand, its shape dissipated and it devolved into a chaotic ball of raging fire. Henk quickly retrieved his katars from his hips and pushed heat through his hands into the grips of the weapons, bringing the metallic material of the gauntlet-based implements to a fever pitch, the tips of their blades glowing red hot as he thrust forward, giving his old comrade two attacks to deal with.

 

[Alistair Krixus]

What would a person experience if they were suddenly granted a new sense? It would be overwhelming at first, but mastering the understanding of the sense would only be described as... exhilarating. That was what Alistair now experienced every day. Often mixed with confusion, before being replaced by understanding and then excitement. While he had been forced to give up his precious sight, the more time he spent with this new sense, the more he wondered if he would do anything differently at that time.

As soon as Maseno began to form his magic, no, even before then, Alistair could see the mana gather. Maseno's magic permeated the air around him. It was malleable, but domineering, able to affect the environment at his will. Incredible, Telekinetics were truly lucky.

Alistair saw the wave before it hit him, giving him just enough time to get off his own spell. Instead of firing off some attack at Maseno, the wall where he was getting slammed into shifted before changing in texture. Alistair did not stop as he was pushed into the wall, instead sinking into the structure before he stepped out of the wall a moment later, bits and pieces crumbling like that of sand.

Alistair grumbled as he stepped out of the wall, quickly dusting the sand off out of his hair and clothes. "Gah, I hate sand." While annoying, it was the quickest spell that Alistair could think of on the fly. Stepping out of the wall, Al had been prepared to fight Maseno, but it seems the initiate was busy with the other initiate. He would have happily joined in, but it seemed his dance card was full.

"Henk, attacking a fellow classmate? Old habits die hard?"

Alistair no longer carried himself with the feigned bravado he has used to protect himself at the Academy. His new skills and abilities evolved that bravado into true confidence.

As Henk's attacks came at him, several runes activated on Alistair's own clothes. When he moved, he slid across the ground like he was on ice. Alistair's spell weaving was near instantaneous now as an ice spear appeared in the air and collided with the fiery ball in the air in an explosion of steam.

He chose to dodge Henk's katars, sliding beneath that attack before springing back to his feet. There was no point in trying to block the attacks, not right now anyways. The practice sword would not hold up against the red-hot blades.

"I hope you found whatever you wanted out there. It is a steep price for betrayal."

Henk Maseno Luana

 

[Livia Quinnick]

The surprise of her feet leaving the ground did not register to her until seconds after crashing onto the target practice she littered with well trained arrows. Pain erupted in her side where scrapes against the arrow shafts had occurred, and with gritted teeth, she got to her feet. She turned round to make sense of what had happened, catching the moment others rounded onto Luana and Livia canted her head. Was that force by Maseno's hand? She was unsure if she should be impressed or irritated.

The Archon had instructed they show their strengths, to display what it is they can wield. Unconventional, they would think of Livia's appointment to this task force, but now the young noble could see what she was up against. She had thought she would be admitted to a regiment that would benefit from her gentle guidance her ability afforded her, but those private lessons she took at the Academy were not to teach her how to control her corrupted power.... rather learn how to make it's unpredictability into a weaponised advantage.

She turned her head to the side, where the destroyed target she had crushed still clutched her arrows. Her hand twitched at her side, fingers stretching and straining towards the pieces stuck into the soft wood. What power emanated from her was not something familiar nor was it of her bidding. To her, it was as if she were trying to take control of a power not her own, as if someone merely presented it before her and tasked her with moving it for her own accord. Corruption severed her link, but Livia could still feel it as hers. It came when she called, this time, and the noble watched as the wooden splinters all rose before her, arrows lifting to hum three feet behind her as she turned back onto the others.

Some were already initiating combat, finding their target and engaging in the beginnings of what looked like any other training class at the Academy. It appears her simple tricks with the bow and arrow would not serve her well on this task force. While she had been looking to observe, a larger body rammed into her and sent her back down to the ground. Livia struggled to catch her breath, the figure revealing himself in her line of sight as a member of the guard. Before his weapon could strike her while she was down, those wooden splinters came together and created a shield, stray pieces piercing through his leathers and inserting into found flesh. The pained cry only fueled her irritation, scrambling to her feet again and willing the arrows to stop mere inches from the man. Livia gritted her teeth until her jaw protested, loosing her lips to exhale the entirety of her lungs as she gripped the arm with the most splinters in it. "You are lucky I stopped my arrows from peppering you." She spun him around, so that he could see what she had prevented. One arrow's point was trained at his eye. Livia released his arm, blood sticking her her palm as she stalked off with a little more confidence in the corrupted magic. So it did have it's uses... just not entirely at her command.

 

[Henk]

Alistair was clear of his attacks before he'd even had a chance to fully commit, sliding effortlessly away from his katars. Of course, Krixus was like him in that he didn't need a weapon in order to fight at full efficiency. The man's rune-work was second to none, and it was clear that blindness hadn't taken those skills away from him. Good, they would need his unmatched talent in the future.

As Alistair slipped free, the searing hot blade of Henk's katar collided with the wall that Krixus had been pressed against, the temperature causing it to penetrate the surface, sliding into the sandy wall the rune-mage had created. The material cooled and hardened around the blade, locking it in place. He'd not be using that Katar for the rest of this battle.

Behind him, Alistair spoke.

"Henk, attacking a fellow classmate? Old habits die hard?"

He felt his lips curl into a sneer at the accusation. Of all the people to be called a traitor... There was true treachery outside the walls of the city. Gilram, Edric, Eberwhit, Jynx and Heilig... He was not like them. Releasing the katar now firmly embedded in the wall, Henk pulled his hand free and turned to face his seemingly former friend.

"I don't know what you think my aim is, but all I've ever wanted is for the people I care about to live." The words came out in a snarl, though it wasn't as he meant them. Reaching for his other katar, he pulled it off as well and tossed it aside, letting it clatter uselessly on the ground. "I left because I was weak. Our entire time as Initiates, I'd only ever held you all back."

Bringing his fists up in front of him, he approached slowly, fluctuating his temperature in an attempt to throw off whatever sense Krixus was using to see him.

"I needed to be strong enough to protect this place, Al. Now I am."

Henk ducked and swayed forward, looping his wrapped fist up in an attempt to connect with his partner's chin. At the same time, a light-born facsimile of the Dreadlord-- light vaguely shaped like Henk, extended from his body and swung a glowing fist at Krixus from the other side.

Alistair Krixus

 

[Alistair Krixus]

Alistair could only look at Henk with annoyance. He leisurely kept the practice blade, in his hand, moving as he watched his opponent. In his mind, he went through several attacks, the counters, the counters to those counters. He needed to see several steps ahead. His own thoughts of battle were momentarily interrupted by his laughter, but it contained no mirth.

Strength, he had heard that from several of his classmates, many of them while he was hunting them down. It was almost insulting. They needed strength, but for some reason, they could not find it here. No, instead they had to leave them all here. They could not trust them to help them find strength.

"How has that worked out for you because several of our classmates are dead, and you were not there...No, let me tell you what actually happened. Gilram through a rock at our class and we shattered. Then you and so many others left. All in the name of helping or strength, but what you really did was just leave the few who remained to try and pick up all the pieces and put them back together again."

The more he spoke the more angry he got, but it was a silent and setting anger. Not just for Henk, but for all the others that left.

He had also found strength, and unlike them, he had found it here. He had done everything in his power to hold onto the pieces with every gain of power, he would grab onto more pieces until he had the strength to hold it all together. He wasn't going to let them just waltz in and break it all again.

"You lost the right to protect this place."

Alistair moved to meet Henk. The light fluctuations served to help Alistair see him more clearly, The first punch he met with his sword as was the clear counter. The light copy was less clear, as a rune on his forearm erupted a shield popped up to counter that punch. However, on contact, he knew it would not hold long. Henk's mana was hot and it sizzled and burned, even with his block.

Al let himself get pushed back wanting to create space from the punches, if only to prepare a better counter.

Henk

 

[Maseno Luana]

Keeping Henk in his peripheral vision, he lunged instead at Luana. With the two being part of the same class, Ivan had seen @Maseno Luana fight fairly often, and while this sudden outburst of power was rather surprising, the blonde knew that his classman’s greatest strength was achieved from a distance; that was, with projectiles in addition to magic. Ivan knew well enough that Maseno was lethal with any sort of ranged weapon, and especially if he managed to get some distance to his target… which was why he wasn’t going to let that happen.

Swinging his war-hammer on an ascending motion, Ivan swiftly closed the gap between the two. He manoeuvred the weapon so that it would land with a heavy impact, while, on his free, right hand a black aura suddenly appeared. As he approached, the aura materialised into black-and-ashen flames, a fire of decay that Ivan projected against Maseno as the two of them were about to lock into combat.

Their magic was - apart from a spectacular display, obviously - also completely contrasting aesthetically. While Maseno’s magic was bright and luminous, Ivan’s was dark and gloomy; not only did these flames burn in shadowy colours, but they also seemed to absorb and dampen any light that surrounded them.

In short, they were a darkness coming to engulf the light.

It was with a preturnatural awareness that Maseno deflected incoming errant arrows from the far side of the arena - uncertain of their intention or target, it mattered little. That his own magic, utterly invisible to the eye, filled the space around him allowed the young Luana a sixth sense of those people and things. Of the most relevant to him was Ivan, who had quickly recovered from the blast across the hall and now had set to closing the distance between them.

Ivan was strong, powerful, fast, and smart - he had all the right ingredients to make a lethal foe and a highly respectable Dreadlord. Maseno did not intend to let him get close enough. As Ivan made his charge, Maz lifted his right hand toward him in the action of ensnaring the blond once again in his power and put his movements to a full stop. This was not light against dark, Maseno was not an embodiment of such a thing like Henk, Zael, Ein, or Thraah. There was no war between good and evil, life or death, there was only absolute control which Maseno had honed fully against his classmate nearly like puppet strings.

And then with a gesture did make to send Ivan sailing again, across the battle field and straight into Livia Quinnick.

 

[Livia Quinnick]

With her magic following her, splintered wood and arrows in her wake, it was able to warn Livia of the approaching hit. By the time she saw Ivan heading her way, Livia lifted her hands to command her magic to shield her, but the splinters and arrows fell to the ground once she changed course of wielding.

And so Livia was knocked off her feet once more. She was closest to the wall, colliding with it with a croaked breath as she had the wind taken from her. Her vision blurred for several seconds, the swirling in her vision stabilizing enough to see Maseno's figure looking their way.

"Look who decided to show off." Came the bitter growl from Livia, arms pushing herself to sit up against the wall and feel her ribs. That definitely will be bruising soon enough. She worked past the pain flaring in almost every part of her body as she got up again, her teeth gritting visibly as she hissed at the sore muscles in her legs that did not want to move as Livia walked past Skender and dropped a hand over the wooden splinters from the target she had been projected into not even two minutes ago.

"Get up Ivan." The other Initiate was not slight of frame like Livia, his body would have crushed her to the wall if she had not slowed him down. When Livia called to her magic again, it was ready. It fed off her brewing anger, not liking one bit she was severely outmatched here just like she was at the Academy. Only this was not a class, this was a task force she had been invited to take part of.

And right now she was demonstrating how easy it was to hit her down.

Arrows and wooden splinters rose up before her, a buzz only heard at her ears as they waited for her command to launch. Livia knew Maseno's recent displays only proved he was far stronger than her struggling magic. A full frontal attack like her magic wished to do was not how Livia would work. It was risky to close her eyes at that moment, but she needed to concentrate and locate each and every piece wrapped in her magic, willing them to spread around the room so quickly that they would be hard to keep track of. Livia would distract Maseno's attention with a couple of splinters soaring across the room towards him, her body tensing at having to keep her magic channeling actively for this long.

If she could pull this off, perhaps then she would not be seen as the weakest link.

Ivan Skender Maseno Luana

 

[Henk]

Henk's face twisted at Alistair's words. Not because he was offended by the accusations laid at his feet, but because underneath his emotions, he knew them to be true. His blows had knocked the Rune Mage back, but the damage done had been minimal, and the shifting of his temperature didn't appear to do anything in his favor.

It wouldn't do to allow Alistair to use his emotions against him. Zana couldn't trust him if his feelings ruled him in a fight. Inhaling slowly to calm his temper, Henk slid forward again, opening his hands and expelling light into small spheres in his palms. Light magic had always been his forte, but he'd since expanded upon it; learning to shape the light, to control its movement and concentration, had been a game-changer for his training.

But he was far from an expert at the task; Maintaining said control required focus he still hadn't perfectly attained.

"You're right. I'm sorry."

Henk muttered back to his opponent, knowing well it wouldn't be enough. He tossed the orbs of light into the air over Alistair's head, bringing them to a hovering stop once they were in place. Then, he brought his fists back down together and poured more of the bright mana into his palms, slowly pulling his tightened hands apart to form a staff out of the energy. Three shapes to maintain at once was a risk, but if he gave Al a chance to go on the offensive, he'd be a fool.

Taking swooping steps forward, Henk brought one end of the glowing staff down towards Alistair's neck. Henk didn't expect the blow to land against somebody as skilled as Krixus, but he still didn't put enough heat into the weapon to seriously injure him if it did connect. In time with the attack, the orbs over Alistair's head would swell and then begin to expel searing bolts down onto him from above.

Alistair Krixus

 

[Alistair Krixus]

"You're right. I'm sorry."

If only it were that easy. Saying your sorry when you knew you were wrong because the damage had already been done. That was useless to Alistair, he did not want their pitty or their regret. He wanted them to stop breaking things.

It was becoming clear to Alistair that this battle was growing more and more difficult. Since he was not using his runesaber, he had to be careful how he decided to block. That would make it hard enough, but adding in the other directions and it made a complete challenge.

His options were limited, so he was forced to use a few cards. A rune along his hand began to glow which reinforced the practice sword. It would be able to block the staff, maybe only once, but he could worry about that problem later.

The bigger issue was the barrage coming from the orbs. He pushed backwards dancing out of the way of the incoming orbs. Instantly, he activated all of his runic eyes. The complete and total spacial perception was vital as he barely managed to dodge the incoming strikes. He wasn't getting hit, but he couldn't even catch his breath to counteract. It took most of his focus to avoid the bolts of light.

He had not trouble admitting that Henk had gotten stronger. Hell, most of his former classmates that he had run into had gotten stronger. That doesn't mean he had to appreciate it. Bull had gotten stronger, and he killed him.

"This all you found, Henk. A little disappointed." Even as he said it, he knew his forceful breathing was showing his more truthful difficulties.

Henk

 

[Henk]

There it was again, those taunting words seeking to draw him further out of control. Anir be damned if they weren't difficult to ignore-- little incendiary needles poking into his skin even as he focused on fighting him. Alistair dodged the bolts of light in a way that betrayed his blindness, elegantly stepping just out of reach of Henk's staff as well.

The once-exile stepped forward to match his movements, keeping on the pressure. The moment he gave Alistair a chance to catch his breath was the moment he lost this fight, and Henk absolutely, unequivocally refused the idea of defeat. Not to Krixus, not now, when he dangled his regrets in front of his face as though they made him unworthy. He was worthy. He aimed to prove it.

"Shut up!" Henk barked, snapping at the provocation by spinning his body forward bringing the other end of the staff over to strike at the same area of Alistair's neck as before as he completed the rotation. The bolts of heat continued to shower Alistair, but the frequency of them was noticeably lessening as the orbs slowly ran out of supply. "If I'm so unworthy, then strike me down!"

Try as he might to maintain his composure, Henk was losing his temper. The orbs above fluctuated, swelling and dimming rapidly before dissipating completely. His staff seemed to bend with movement as he swung again, a trail of flame following its path and arching from its ends. After his second swing, he allowed the staff to break apart into scorching light in his hands before throwing the blinding flash out with both hands.

So absorbed was he now on his offensive, that he failed to notice the sheen of light covering him like a second skin, or the fact that his own temperature had skyrocketed to levels beyond safety. Even if he had, it would just distract him long enough for a counterattack, and his defense was already lacking due to his temper. One opening, one opportunity was too much to risk.

"Fight me, Krixus! Stop standing there!"

Alistair Krixus

 

[Alistair Krixus]

It was true, Alistair had largely been on the defensive since all this fighting was announced. In part, it was because he was just good at defending, but also he needed to gather information. He needed to know how Henk fought and how the others fought. He had eyes on them even while he was fighting Henk. Why? Because that was how he would fight, with them or against them. He needed information. The taunting had just been extra.

The few parries he had attempted with the practice sword as already signs of cracks were showing. He frowned, activating several fire resistance runes along his body to try and better keep up with Henk's growing temperature.

"That's the worse part, Henk. You are worthy and you were worthy, and then you ran. You left us."

All of those worthy individuals had left. Leaving them with the likes of him, the unworthy. There had been a few left behind to keep things together. There was Kristen, Ralene, and Everleigh, but they could only do so much. Imagine how much further they could have gone if the others had just stayed.

Henk was at least right about one thing. It was time to attack. A large rune activated on his chest, and then the after images started. Several Alistair's moving in all directions, all of them striking out at Henk. Back in the Academy, these were just illusions that Al had been known for while he slipped his own attacks in. That had changed, some of the afterimages could now make their own physical strikes, and somewhere in there was also the real Alistair.

He pushed himself and the images to move faster, as he needed to finish this soon. Henk's temperature was growing not only dangerous for himself but the others around them. If he did not win soon, then he would force himself to concede.

Henk

 

[Ivan Skender]

He'd been very close to Maseno when Luana had launched his counterattack. Suddenly, he felt himself gelling pulled violently backwards, while his attack seemed to collapse in the distance. Though it took a split second for his own magical energies to break Maseno's 'puppeteer strings', those scant moments were enough for him to be sent against Livia Quinnick.

He got up rapidly, cursing through gritted teeth, as he faced his opponent. The intensity of the attack had been very surprising to him, especially considering that in all the years up until that moment, during which him and Maseno Luana had been classmates, he'd never known his colleague to be that powerful.

"Huh, so be it."

With a semi-circular motion of his arm, Ivan lifted a black mist around him, a magical barrier capable of protecting him from whatever was sent his way. Though it seemingly disappeared in the breath of a few seconds - as would a cloud of dust, lifted from the opening of a room long closed - it remained active even after its visible manifestation wore off.

From his left arm, a pitch-black liquid substance started to run down his forearm, enveloping his skin and covering his veins with a dark coating.

- "Can you keep him distracted?" - He asked Livia, as he saw the cloud of splinters she had raised, and that stood seemingly poised for an all-out attack.​

 

[Maseno Luana]

Given the few short moments of reprieve from any direct interaction, Maseno took that time to center his mind and focus. He affirmed his meditative stance, taking in a long and slow breath. Shoulders squared above planted feet, hands clasped lightly at his back. His thoughts cleared, his mind reached out to fill and feel the surroundings of the hall.

Zana remained rooted, ever keen and watchful of those under her tutelage.

Alistair had fully engaged Henk - theirs seemed to be of personal stakes. This would not do to accomplish the task of working together against a common and far more powerful enemy.

Ivan had recovered, as had Livia, the latter of which already making an effort against him. Good. Her magic was not so disimilar to his own - some form of matter manipulation. The main difference between them, however, felt deeper than that. Maseno was not so honed yet to understand that her source came from emotions, but what he could sense of her power was unstable. As her shards and splinters randomly shot toward him, he reached out to each to divert their paths.

Several of them went straight for Henk and Alistair Krixus and would, with luck, garner their attention.

Mas maintained that hold of focus, gathering more resources from that which made itself available around him. Namely, the weapons and shields of the other men presently sparring. Swords, daggers, helmets, shields, gauntlets tore themselves from their grips and began a ceaseless barrage upon his fellow Dreadlords and Initiates. All the while Maseno stood calmly, as if watching a glorious sunrise.