Fate - First Reply The Adventurous Seven

[Kalia Oro Khastan]

At first he thought he overdid it, and that the entire wall of enemy deserters was coming for him to get him out of the picture before they moved on to the village. But as the mass of screaming soldiers drew close many of them veered off, to go for the village. But there was still a mass majority that wanted to overpower him with their sheer numbers.

Kalia drew his Khopesh and held it high, standing like a monument on the shore ready to receive the oceans tide.

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As the soldiers were standing at the edge of the forest and looking at the palisade wall they were caught off guard a little bit by its presence, but it was no big deal, they could clear it easily. And now as they charged past Kalia at the village they ran in with that same confidence, even shaken as they were by Kalia's magic.

... Their first mistake...

Sudden screams and cursing rose from the enemy as some of them started falling to the ground, their legs disappearing into the small foot traps where they found themselves impaled through the foot by sharp wooden stakes. Kalia hadn't instructed this but their was fresh feces spread over the stakes as well, making truly nasty wounds. This sowed more fear through the ranks, but not enough.

As the army drew near the palisade the villagers went into action. There were five groups of five and each one was responsible for the survival of everyone in their group. Instead of waiting to receive the brunt of the enemy attack they retreated into the village, using the buildings to mask their movements.

Even reduced as they were and already struggling they had enough to crush the village, and so they all wordlessly divided themselves to chase the small groups.

... Their second mistake...

As one group of the divided army engaged with one group of five, that group of villagers was suddenly joined by another group, using their combined forces to crush the enemy. Even when both groups were being chased another group would appear to even the odds. Their losses were five to nothing, but the enemy wasn't having a shortage of fresh soldiers streaming into the village.

As time went on the battle weary villagers, at first filled with hope that their strategy was working, were now being challenged not by skill or strategy, but by endurance and battle fatigue, an enemy the deserters were far more familiar with.

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The first to attack him was actually a group of ten men who outflanked him and began attacking him simultaneously. Kalia's blade was a whirlwind as he tried to defend himself as best he could, but occasionally a sword would strike him in the leg, hit his armor, cut his arm. It was a slow bleeding tactic, and one they were too distracted to tell if it was working.

But every blade that met his Khopesh immediately rusted and fell apart. And this went on until everyone around him was effectively disarmed. But he had to commend the soldiers discipline, as soon as their swords were useless they fell back and let the rest of the army attack him.

This is where he began to struggle. He had to start saving the enchantment on his sword so he could use it when the time came. Unless he was able to restore the magical energy in his Khopesh he was down to an intense battle, and the soldiers gave him no quarter. Spears lanced out behind shields and stabbed him through multiple times. Occasionally a blade would strike bone but the weapons were otherwise ineffective against his undead body.

He was fortunate non of them carried an enchanted blade, otherwise he would be vulnerable. But still, as he continued to fight on more spears were brought forward until he was a veritable pincushion. Spears were thrust through his chest, arms, legs, throat... And as the men drove their weapons through his body Kalia slowly went to his knees... The Khopesh fell to the wet grass... He leaned back with his masked face to the darkened sky, receiving the rain... And he didn't move.

 

[Heike Eisen]

It was good that Heike had gorged herself on the spy's blood; she would need every drop.

The traps constructed around the palisade wall's perimeter had forced the deserter army to stagger its initial wave of men, resulting in smaller groups of deserters taking on the small groups of defenders--this, as opposed to a rigid line battle. Good. This was the ideal circumstance for Heike to aid the defenders in her particular way.

Lightning quick. Strike and disappear. Weave herself from skirmish to skirmish, helping one group of defenders before rushing off to help the next. Never stop moving, never move in a predictable and orthodox way. This was her strategy, necessitated to be so for her own safety from the village defenders as well as to maximize her strengths versus the deserters.

When Heike sprang into action, a long tapestry of blood unraveled in her wake. A rush from her hidden vantage behind the home and a leap high into the air and crashing down into the middle of the first skirmish and her claws thrust up and hard through a deserter's fleshy under-jaw and a quick roll away from the fight and off to the next where she slid between a deserter's spaced legs and slashed through to his femoral artery and left him shrieking in pain as an exerted jump off an adjacent wall landed her on top of a home and from there she lunged and fell upon two other deserters and raked them each from behind with a twin downward slicing of her clawed hands and, even before they had fallen to the ground, she had dashed away.

In this manner and permutations of it did she aid the defenders and strike at the deserters. The villagers who saw her once, twice, perhaps even three times where at first shocked, but, remembering Kalia's words, they dispelled their initial surprise and shock and kept their battle composure.

This continued for a time, Heike's fleet-footed assault.

Until she saw, on one pass by an opening in the palisade wall, Kalia. Out there in the field beyond the bounds of the village. Down on his knees. Being run through with the spears of the deserters fighting against him.

Heike didn't even think about; whether she should or should not go. She just turned immediately. Changed course from dashing to the next skirmish in the village to sprinting out from the palisade wall--

She didn't take two steps out from the wall. A flaming mace swung from just around the corner of the wall as she passed and struck her in her left forearm, the flames catching and alighting her cloth wraps and singeing the flesh beneath. Heike gave a sharp cry as her whole body reacted violently to the shock of fire and her feet fell out from under her and she tumbled hard onto to the ground, her momentum rolling her along for a few paces' distance.

The fire on her arm hissed viciously and steamed as the rain from above quenched it within a few seconds--even if the sheer torturous agony of the flames made it seem far longer.

Heike looked. Saw her foe.

Piker. Standing by the corner of the palisade wall where she had emerged.

"Hopin you'd be here," Piker said. "And hopin you'd go for your leader out yonder. Thank you kindly on both counts."

Piker, with the faintest of smirks, tapped the shaft of his enchanted, fiery mace in his other hand. Heike's strength was flowing back into her limbs, slowly--such was the debilitating aversion to fire she suffered from her affliction.

And she began to find her footing as Piker approached.

 

[Kalia Oro Khastan]

They had him down, and he wasn't moving. Over a hundred men surrounded the huge body with weapons in hand, a body that simply knelt in the grass, as if he were praying. The rain dripping off the mask like tears. The men were breathing hard, their breath clouding in the driving rain. Slowly as their success began to dawn on them they began to laugh, it was a chuckle at first that spread throughout the army. Was it really that easy? After all of that build-up?
The chuckling turned to cheers, and then to laughter.

An army of over a hundred and twenty men began laughing and mocking the unmoving giant still riddled with spears. Ivanhoe made his way to the scene and stood before the giant.
"So this was it? What was your big plan? Stall us long enough to let the villagers escape?"
The laughter continued... Even after Ivanhoe and the rest of the soldiers stopped laughing, deep throated and hearty laughter continued to echo around the field.

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Kalia was enjoying himself. The theatrics were nearly making him giddy. He was distracted for a brief moment when Heike tried to come to his aid and got waylaid by a man wielding an enchanted mace! So there was a man he had to worry about. The flame enchantment was lessened by the rain, but such a weapon could severely limit Heike. At the moment she seemed able to handle herself, so he turned his attention back to his own enemy.

Now was the time for some spell weaving.
Unseen by the soldiers he cast a spell... This one was a mass effect spell and just what he needed to sow the mayhem he had planned.

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To the soldiers around him it sounded like his laughter was coming from every direction, right in their ears, off in the distance. The soldiers were wheeling about, trying to locate the source of the laughter. Ivanhoe was flustered, looking at the body and then at the rain where the laughter mocked him.
"What is this?! We killed him didn't we?!"
He approached the body and pulled off the mask, revealing the solid wrappings underneath. Unsatisfied he began to remove the wrappings. The smell of spices and herbs filled the air until Ivanhoe had revealed the empty skull underneath. The laughter went on. Not quite understanding what he saw he jumped to conclusions.
"This was a fake?! Damn dead raising filth! What the devil is he?!"

The spell was far from completion. The soldiers began crowding together standing back to back with Ivanhoe, his bodyguards, and the "fake" Kalia at its center. The soldiers peered out into the darkness. Rain fell hard, obscuring much of their view, but the sky was growing far darker than it should have been as the day drew on.

The laughter could be heard by every soldier inside and outside the village, but no one else could hear it, nor could anyone else sense or see what came next.
The soldiers had set up a spear wall all around them looking for any sign of an enemy to attack. As one soldier peered into the darkness he caught and glimpse of some movement, he pointed his spear and alerted those around him, who also pointed there spears at the spot. There was a sound of slow footsteps splashing in the mud, drawing nearer.
A huge shadow stepped within view, and another peel of thunder lit up the night for a brief moment. In that brief moment the deserters saw a sight the froze their blood. Behind the hulking frame of Kalia Oro Khastan stood another army, not of giants, but of warriors clad in bronze kalitian armor and armed with similar weapons... And wrapped head to toe in white burial wrappings.

A reasonable man might have questioned this illusion by now, but in their heightened state of fear no man was reasonable enough to discern reality from fiction. And it was because of this belief that now the illusions could do them harm. As the lightning faded their vision also darkened, only to be cruelly jolted by a sudden brilliant flash of light that came from the image of Kalia himself. Everything about him glowed with light from the sun and he floated into the air, casting the light over the entire army.
Of course, all of this was invisible to the others.
Now the deserters could see their imaginary enemies as the embalmed army charged at the ranks of soldiers.

Normally an illusion would be simple light that blades would pass through without any effect. But these were different, because the soldiers believed what they saw the illusions were able to be felt and sensed in every way as if they were really there. Thus, when a deserter was struck by a weapon the man could feel pain and even die from it, though in reality it's a simple heart attack that killed them.

Ivanhoe was completely losing his mind. He was screaming at the soldiers, telling them to attack, charge, fight, execute, every single order he knew how to give he was screaming it at the top of his lungs.
Suddenly he felt a cold grasp on his shoulder, he looked down to see a skeletal hand resting on his arm, but when he panicked and tried to brush it off it gripped him tighter. The inhuman hand slowly turned him and he found himself looking into the empty eye sockets of the skeleton... Of the real Kalia Oro Khastan.
"Do not concern yourself with mere images... Enjoy them while you can... The reality is much worse."

With that his other hand seized Ivanhoe by the skull, his hand much larger than the mans head, and turned the now weeping captain to look at his army. The illusion dropped from his eyes and he saw the truth. His men were fighting air, fighting each other, ravening mad on the battlefield, some bleeding out from invisible wounds, some swinging their swords wildly in the darkness and confusion. Slowly the hand turned his head to look at the skull once more.
"You face the avatar of shame... Your fate was sealed the moment you defied a cursed god..."

 

[Heike Eisen]

Piker's mace and the magical flames licking the air above it hissed ominously in the rain as he approached, a trail of steam in his wake.

Heike got to her feet, her control over her left arm spotty at best, her claws reacting sporadically to her attempts to flex them. It would take time for the trauma of the burn wound to abate--time she didn't have.

But Piker, thankfully, was defensive and cautious himself. He took another swing at her with the mace, she was able to backstep from it, and he did not follow up. He stood his ground and looked her up and down and spun the mace around in his hand and said in his dry, you know I'm right, manner, "We dont have to do this."

"And there we differ," Heike said.

She stepped to her right. He stepped to her left, keeping her squarely in front of him, and the flaming mace as a deterrent extended out between them.

"They'll never accept you," Piker said. "I told you that. But I didnt need to, did I. You already know it. Mmmhmm, you do. You know it first thing in the mornin when you wake up, last thing at night."

"I've found ways to manage."

Piker smirked and shook his head. "It wont last. I can tell you honestly that it will not. You keep from people, you'll go feral. That's what happens. The loneliness dont cause it, but it sure as hell helps it along."

Heike considered just running away from Piker. Going to Kalia right now to aid him, despite the overwhelming number of deserters arrayed against him. He had to be alright. He had to be. Surely he wouldn't have allowed himself to be caught out in so terrible a position if it wasn't purely intentional, part of a plan of which Heike was unaware.

She trusted in this. And, over Piker's shoulder, she saw a solution to her own problem.

Piker, curiously, narrowed his eyes. Glanced about as if he heard something (laughing). Disregarded it, recovered from this momentary lapse, and focused back on her. Said, "You need to be with someone who understands. Someone who's got your back."

"Funny you should say that," Heike said.

Piker, about to question this, instead gasped as a pitchfork burst through his stomach, the bloody prongs having impaled their way through the whole of his body from behind. The weapon was wrenched out. Piker fell to his knees, dropped the flaming mace (the flame of which evaporating immediately once it lost contact with his hand), and collapsed face first to the ground.

A group of five of the village defenders had come up on Piker from behind, one of their number doing the deed. And the pitchfork wielding villager looked up from Piker's body and at Heike and gave her a small nod.

Heike, blushing slightly from the friendly acknowledgement that she was not at all prepared for, nodded back.

And here it became apparent that something astonishing was happening. All of the deserters had begun to...panic? Go mad? They were yelling and screaming and slashing at foes unseen, turning on each other even. Was this Kalia's work? It had to be. Yes, it had to be. Much in the same way he had caused fear to be spread among the captured livestock in the fort, this magic he worked here affected the deserters and almost outright destroyed their capacity to fight effectively.

Heike turned from the group of defenders as they turned from her, they heading back into Dunderstahd and she running out into the field and toward Kalia. If he required any assistance out here, she endeavored to give it.

If nothing else, if the deserters were undone by his magic of mass fright and the efforts of the village defenders, then she could tell him the good news.

That Piker was wrong.

Yes, on at least one joyous count (five, perhaps?), he was wrong.

Heike was running toward him, seeing that he had another man in his grasp. Seeing...an odd feature about Kalia's face. Indiscernible just yet. Until she got closer.

 

[Kalia Oro Khastan]

Ivanhoe's eyes widened even... wider?... when he heard Kalia's words.
"A... a god?"
Those were his last words. He stared into the dark pits of those eye sockets, when suddenly green orbs of fire appeared in them.
"You've forfeit your soul, all other claims are now null and void. As I created heaven for my faithful I also created hell for those who defy me."
He held the man up in the air at arms length, still holding him by his skull. Green light began to radiate from Kalia between the wrappings covering his body and a green flame traveled up his arm to his hand where he held Ivanhoe. As soon as the skeletal hand was wreathed in the green flame Ivanhoe began to scream, the fire didn't envelop him or seem to burn him, but searing pain shot through his body.

It was subtle at first, but Ivanhoe began to get even thinner, his eyes rolled back into his skull as his still screaming mouth opened wide, but slowly as Kalia held him there his skin shriveled up, his eyes sunk and his flesh atrophied and dried up, until the last of his skin finally washed away from the rain and Kalia held a pristine skeleton in his hand. He crushed the skull in his grip and dropped the bones to the ground.

The enchantments in his weapons and armor were restored once more, and he stood surrounded by his enemies. With a snap of his fingers that shouldn't have been possible with the bone appendages, the phantasmal forces the soldiers were fighting vanished. It would take a while more for the soldiers to realize they weren't fighting anything anymore, which gave Kalia and Heike time.

He turned when he heard Heike approaching, the two points of green light staring at her, his face frozen in a perpetual grin of death. The baleful light provided the only illumination between flashes of lightning. When he spoke his mouth, or rather his teeth, didn't open in order for him to speak.
"You see my true face now, my friend... If I do not repulse you, come stand by me and witness our victory."
His voice seemed different as well, changed. He didn't speak in his usual overly heroic tone, but his voice was deep and resonating, with a slight accent of a kalitian man from the desert.

According with his invitation he held his skeletal hand out to her, with his shoulder cape open to receive her "under his wing" as it were.
He was about to unleash death and fear itself upon this battlefield. Her safest place was by his side now.

 

[Heike Eisen]

Kalia had one of the deserters lifted up by his skull, doing this with a single hand. And what he did to the man was horrifying. No other way to say it. Heike felt a proverbial chill run down her spine as she approached, as she got closer and closer to the emaciation and absolute disintegration of the man, his flesh shriveling and shrinking and vanishing altogether. This was the stuff of nightmares, the core of the fear that children felt when their parents spoke of the monsters of the world. That very same fear nested in the hearts of mundane men and women, they who were like Heike and her fellow knights of the Golden Blade, who were at times called upon to face such monsters in battle.

But were her claws not also frightful? Was she not some manner of devilish creature, stalking the night and draining the blood of the unsuspecting and tearing apart the good people of Arethil who resisted? Was she not this in the minds of they who feared monsters? Kalia's magic, her claws, both existed in that same dark cellar of unspoken thought in the collective psyche of humanity.

Yet here they were, Heike and Kalia both, defending the very same mundane men and women of Dunderstahd against enemies that were not the monsters they feared, but enemies of kindred flesh and blood.

It was almost too much to properly process.

But Heike knew this: she did not fault Kalia for his methods. Intent mattered. Intent always mattered. And he was here for the same reason as her, and he, too, employed frightful weapons against the wicked and the guilty.

Heike got within a few paces of Kalia, the soldiers around them all dazed and reeling. She saw his face. His true face beneath the mask and the wrappings.

The lack thereof. A skeletal visage. A true undead.

And she was not repulsed. She felt instead a longing sorrow, with only a small nestling of fear within. Again, that weighty thought of a world that would never be: a world in which Heike had been spared of her vampirism, and Kalia of his undeath. But it was not so, and never would be. Arethil, this Arethil, was the only home they would ever know.

And here, at least, they had the endurance of their shared experience bonding them together, each providing in the presence of the other that they were not alone.

Heike took a step forward. That small nestling of fear prompting a certain hesitation. But she overcame it. Strode forward the last few paces and gracefully took the hand offered to her. She looked up at him. Smiled in a way that was mild, yet warm.

Said, "Do what must be done."

 

[Kalia Oro Khastan]

That's all he needed, he kept her by his side as the soldiers slowly began to get their bearings. Some had already deserted during the "battle", but those that remained were still many, and those that lay dead were many more.
The deserters closest to them were beginning to take notice and were picking up arms, trying to get others to join them on the attack. they drew closer with menace and caution, but it was time for Kalia's final magic.

The rain continued but the thunder and lightning subsided, as well as the intense unnatural darkness. It was an overcast cloudy day with grey lighting and a steady rainfall.
If not for the blood and bodies laying about and men shouting it might have seemed peaceful.

But the soldiers were drawing closer now, soon they will have enough gathered to mount an attack on the skeletal giant and his companion.
"First we need some space."
His spear flew to his hand from where it lay in the mud and he struck the blade into the wet ground, it rang out as if it were striking a bell, and with the sound a green glowing field suddenly expanded out from their position rapidly in all directions. Anyone touched by the field within five feet of them were instantly disintegrated, anyone within ten feet fell dead with shattered bones, anyone within fifteen feet were thrown back into the ranks of their comrades with severe burns.

The army was thrown into disarray, but they were still far from defeated, definitely terrified and shaken up, but there were reasonable voices among them that kept them steady.
"I'll let you in on a secret, Heike. The gods are definitely real, and they definitely have a hand in the world and its events... But they don't really care about those who serve them, they offer paltry gifts and blessings in exchange for pious service and the dedication of their very souls."

Kalia twisted the spear into the dirt, and a green fog began to seep from the earth, covering the ground around them and then spreading out slowly, on a course to cover the entire battlefield.
"But the gods are cheating mortal kind. A devil can convince a man to swear his soul to it in return for magic or a simple boon, and the devil will do it because it's an absolute bargain! A simple service for the infinite value of a mortal soul!? Who wouldn't!? The gods do the very same to their followers, taking their souls without paying its full price."
When the fog finally reached the edge of the army it stopped, the soldiers were uneasy, not knowing what to expect, but those still in charge held them in line.

"They then take those souls to whatever paradise they promised them, and they spend the rest of eternity there, feeding their gods power and making them stronger while they continue to toy with mortals in their infinite games, creating more and more creative ways to bring their followers to their deaths to feed their power."
He then lifted his face to the still raining sky and his voice echoed across the field.
"Rise up and feel the gift of redemption, your sins are forgiven you in full if you so wish it. I summon you to fulfill my will and take vengeance on those who defied my name!"
Out of the fog the dead picked up their weapons and stood, turned to their former comrades, and began attacking them. A near repeat of the previous battle ensued, but where comrade fought comrade to the death.

The living began to flee in droves into the forest with the dead chasing them no further than the edge of the field. No call for retreat was given, for there was no one alive to make the call. Once the deserters had all fled he pulled his spear out of the ground, the fog will evaporate over time, but as soon as the spear was removed, the dead turned to sand and bones.
Kalia turned to Heike, the green flames in his eyes didn't glow as brightly, but remained as pinpricks in the depths of his skull.
"I discovered their true nature, and for that I was cursed. But the gods are not as all knowing as many think. They know much because they are old, not because they have the power to know all.
Otherwise they would have known that cursing me was not enough to slay me forever, they would have known and found another way to dispose of me or keep me silent about their sins... Something else happened after they lay me to rest.

My followers, my entire country, were killed and buried with me and our civilization was struck from history to end all knowledge of our existence, but their deaths sent their souls straight to me and I ascended to this cursed version of godhood with the gift of power their immortal souls gave me."

Kalia knelt to reach down and pick up his mask. He began the long task of rewrapping his face and hands in their complex manner to give him the appearance of still having flesh. The villagers will be finishing up their battles soon and he wanted to be assembled before they came to find him.

 

[Heike Eisen]

Heike had her doubts before. Of gods.

She still had her doubts now.

But one thing was for certain: she was in the presence of someone greater than a normal man or woman. Even an extraordinary man or woman. Someone who could have, during her days of being alive and in the company of her fellow knights, slain her and them and raised them all as he did now with these deserters as soulless soldiers of the dead under his command. This, done easily. There was not enough physical training in the world that could have saved her, the mere woman Heike, from power such as this. Perhaps even the inhuman qualities of her affliction would prove little more than an inconvenience to him, if it was by some terrible circumstance that they might be made to be at odds with one another.

In the light of this stark realization, it was hard to conceive of Kalia and herself as equals. They had things they shared in common, yes, but they were not equal. The village defenders in their cohesive groups had slain some number of the deserters, Heike herself surely less than their combined total but more than any single one of them. Kalia, by comparison, brought to ruin the vast majority of the army arrayed against Dunderstahd with an effort that if great or costly did not appear to be so. He had commanded the weather and summoned an unnatural darkness at a whim and drained the very life force from a man in seconds and driven a hundred men mad and incinerated men with a toss of his spear and raised the dead to finish the foes who yet lived, the mundane steel of these men useless against him.

It seemed to Heike that Kalia could have defended Dunderstahd by himself. That this "cursed version of godhood" would have made such an endeavor trivial. Perhaps it was only some measure of restraint or fear or (like Heike herself with certain aspects of her affliction) disgust that kept him from this. A voluntary checking of the terrible power invested in him; and if this were so, if he was even more powerful than what he displayed here today, such would only widen the gap between the sheer immensity of being separating Kalia and all those vested solely of feats grounded in the dirt of Arethil.

Heike, in so short a time, thought Kalia to be several different things: a mortal adventurer, a mortal mage, an undead mage or perhaps archmage who had once been a man, and now...something different. Something greater. By his own admission and the evidence clear to be seen: perhaps a cursed god.

She was glad that he was on the side of the just.

But she felt, through that longing sorrow, a frightfulness festering in the core of her gut. Threatening to spread and overwhelm her.

Kalia wasn't a man. Wasn't even an undead man. He was something greater.

Heike had her doubts on the subject of gods, yes. But those doubts were crumbling, and in that crumbling a void filled with a black and existential dread.

For surely, if Kalia existed and was on the side of the just, then it stood to reason that other such "gods" existed and may well not be. Like those in Kalia's story. They who had destroyed his entire country and the citizens who called it home.

Heike looked as if she might faint. For a woman mostly certain of her very defined--perhaps even quaint--views of life, this was too much to hear all at once. Revelation beyond the scope of her world.

It was all she could do just to stand there and look at him.

She said in a hollow voice, "I don't...I don't know what to say."

 

[Kalia Oro Khastan]

The cost of his magic was indeed greater than it appeared. He had massive magical capacity, but it was greatly diminished in his very first ritual to alter the weather. Such a feat was normally performed by three desert shaman, exhausting all three of them for the rest of the day.
The reason for this great cost could be many things, but the most likely reason was because such feats as altering the weather were attributed to the gods, especially on such a grand scale.

His magics he used afterwards were simply what he had left. He had a couple more spells in him, but the majority of his power had been spent. But this was the benefit of being in an undead body. He didn't feel exhaustion or show any outward signs of fatigue. But he could his power is diminished.

Heike wasn't doing too well. His words, on top of being struck by a flame enchanted weapon earlier, were taking their toll on her. Oftentimes people perceive reality as only what can be seen in front of them, but to Kalia that was such a narrow sight. Becoming aware of how massive reality truly is... Can be overwhelming.
He was exposed to the unseen aspects of reality by his death, when he was struck down and on the verge of entering the void, only to be pulled back by his own people who died and now belonged to him as per their pledge. He was close to tasting true godhood, to being able to see all with nothing hidden from his sight. But he was forced to return to Arethil while his people went to the paradise he created for them.

But he saw enough, and he knew what he witnessed. Reality beyond the mortal senses.
After he had covered his grisly visage in wrappings, hoods, and mask once more he turned on his knees and took her by the shoulders to steady her. He didn't know if there was anything to be gained by exposing her to this world, but he had a feeling she would understand.
"Chin up, my friend... my ally, my companion. The public is approaching."
Kalia switched back to his overly heroic mannerisms as he stood up and let out a belting laugh that echoed around the clearing. Bloodied villagers were slowly filing out of Dunderstahd towards them.

While they were still a ways off he placed his wrapped hand around her should and bent down a little to whisper to her.
"Heike... I don't yet know what new powers are vested in me, if any at all... But if I were to obtain the power to cure you... Would you take it?"

 

[Heike Eisen]

Heike in her mind seemed to be tumbled down a neverending spiral, her head eventually going along with the imagined motion, until Kalia laid his hands on her shoulders and brought her focus squarely onto him, onto his mask. That mask. Behind her own lay a mortal woman turned into an abhorrent creature. But behind his...behind his...

Chin up, my friend...

Heike blinked. Twice. Three times. Shut her eyes and pinched her lips tightly together. Flexed her claws and the muscles of her thighs and slowly craned her neck one way and then the other.

It was difficult to simply chin up, to perfectly compartmentalize the revelation only just bestowed upon her and act as if everything in the here and now was the same, was alright. A most terrible validation of her suspicion concerning the greatest tragedy of her life had been brought to light--for it was plainly evident that all the gods and goddesses who even remotely took an interest in Arethil had turned a blind eye to Reikhurst, and that this divine impassivity was commonplace--and she was expected in its aftermath to carry on as if no such confirmation had been endured.

Heike drew in a long, shivering breath through her nose. Unnecessary for life, but very necessary for her nerves. She would rise to this impossible task. She would carry on.

For it also plainly evident that no damnable god or goddess would deliver the retribution for Reikhurst upon the vampires who sacked it. Only mortal men and women. And of this cadre Heike was so a part--and perhaps sole in number.

Then Kalia once again placed a hand on her shoulder, this time less so to steady her and more so to lean in and whisper something extraordinary to her:

If I were to obtain the power to cure you... Would you take it?

Heike snapped a wide-eyed look of utter amazement at him. Her words frozen in her throat for a small moment.

And she said, "Yes. Without a second thought or doubt, yes."

 

[Kalia Oro Khastan]

He gave her shoulder a squeeze as he straightened, the villagers drawing nearer to look at the carnage around them. They began to whisper, almost like they were afraid to hope.
"Did we win?"
"Have they been defeated?"
Rain still fell from the sky but it was more of a drizzle now. This day was a grey one, but happy all the same.
Kalia stepped forward with his ally by his side.
This was the part he cherished when he lived as a king, conquering those who made themselves the enemies of Djedi Akhmis.

He raised his spear and shouted with his amplified voice.
"VICTORY!!!"
At his proclamation the villagers raised their weapons and a cheer rose over the gore of the battlefield. They hugged each other, some cried, all sighed in relief. He missed being able to do this, to give people hope and then proclaim that they had rose through the fire of battle as victors.
He wondered when was the last time Heike had felt this, a sense of pride at not only being successful, but going beyond. This wasn't a half victory where the enemy retreated to recover, this was a full on rout, where not a single enemy stood to defy them.

The villagers still suffered losses, and not a single one of those who fought emerged unscathed. But of all those who volunteered to fight, only two didn't live to see their victory. A third died of his wounds soon after hearing they had won. All fought bravely, and those who died did so surrounded by family.

Kalia introduced Heike to the village elder, standing among the people in the town square.
"This is an ally of mine, she risked her life to aid this village in its time of need. Her name is Heike."
The old man bowed his head to her.
"We thank you for your aid, lady Heike. We are in your debt, both of you. You have no idea how much this means to us."

 

[Heike Eisen]

It was difficult, at first, to permit a celebratory mood to sweep her away. The disquieting story Kalia had shared of himself and the 'gods' left a quivering, poisoned core of disturbed concern and seething resentment buried in her chest. This, along with even the faint glimmer of hope with regard to her affliction that left her practically swooning from elation and focused squarely on this slim possibility, delayed such permission.

But the cheer came up from the gathered village defenders from Kalia's proclamation. The sound of it, the nature of it--not hearing this cheer from some distant vantage but legitimately being among the celebrants--penetrated deep into Heike's bones and into her psyche. Flashes of festivals and holidays in Reikhurst, the Knights of the Golden Blade on their yearly parade down the King's Avenue, cheers at weddings and birthdays, in so brief a moment this collective cheer from the citizens of Dunderstahd revived these mementos. A fleeting but cherished shimmer on the jewels of a bygone time.

And Heike smiled. Looked down at her feet with an uncharacteristic bashfulness for a second, then back up with a renewed confidence. She simply had become unaccustomed to pleasant receptions and events such as this in the wake of her affliction.

Kalia introduced her to an older man, an elder of Dunderstahd.

Lady Heike. A mild irritation at this again, but, as it was with Kalia, it was not the elder's fault. Even while the Knights of the Golden Blade still existed they were often referred to as "Sir" or "Ser" instead of the Reikhurstan "Herr," given the vast prevalence of the former two.

And this was a proper time to relate her full address.

Heike stood rigid and stately, then saluted the village elder; even now a lingering anxiety about so openly displaying her claws.

"Herr Heike Eisen, Knight-Valiant of Reikhurst. It has been an honor to aid in Dunderstahd's defense today."

 

[Kalia Oro Khastan]

The Elder hesitated when he noticed her abnormally long nails. Their village has always been wary of the undead, even taking measures to cremate their dead so that any wandering necromancer, litch, or curse won't have any bodies to take advantage of. A growing trend amongst the wilderness settlements.

But he was old enough to remember the tales of the Reikhurstian Knights... And the rumors of their fate.
Still, if he didn't already hear the other villagers talking about how she came to their aid at the last moment he saw her standing beside Kalia as an ally. All these things added up to the softening of his heart.
"Reikhurst... I've not heard of that place in a long time. I welcome you to Dunderstahd village, Knight of Reikhurst."
He bowed his head to her in respect.

________________________________________________________________________​

There won't be celebration yet. Today the people will burn the dead and the families will mourn Their loss. They will then continue to build their strength and send word to the other villages that the blockade has been lifted. Travel will begin again in a few days, but they weren't done yet. There was still the remnant to deal with.

As the day went on and the villagers got things underway the rain stopped and the clouds began to disperse. Kalia left some orders with the Elder and then went off into the shadows to sit down, he found a crate and used that to rest on.
He didn't feel physically tired, but his soul felt heavier with how much power he used. A true god could have summoned storms for all eternity. He was far from reaching the top, but at least he was on the path.

He leaned against the wall, resting his head against it. Hoping against hope that the semblance of rest might alleviate his spiritual exhaustion, but as usual he found himself frustrated that nothing he did could give him rest or comfort.

 

[Heike Eisen]

It was a time of joy. Cautious joy, a joy tempered by the apt warnings coming from the back of Heike's mind about allowing herself to indulge too deeply in wishful thinking, but a joy nonetheless. For the first time in a long time, Heike could walk...normally...down a street. She needed to pull her hood back up when the clouds dispersed and the sun came out, yes, but as for the villagers? The people? Her fellow man and woman? She didn't need to hide herself. She didn't need to smudge the exact verbiage of her Oath of Truth, to live her life by the letter of the Oath and not the spirit. No, she didn't need to keep secrets, she could just simply be.

She was accepted. In Dunderstahd, she was accepted.

* * * * *​

Heike had attended the cremations of the dead. They who had earned their warrior's death, protecting their home and the people they loved. They were truly Citizens and Warriors of Dunderstahd.

She paid her own respects. Bowed her head and gave them silence. Then, standing rigid and firm, she offered up a customary slow salute. Faced about. And walked away as the flames carried these brave Citizens and Warriors elsewhere.

And she spotted Kalia after some time, between a home and its associated storehouse.

She stopped. Crossed the distance to him. Stood before him as he sat.

"Kalia," she said. A pause, this one not so brief. Then at last: "Is what you said...possible? Is there a chance? Is there a way?"

 

[Kalia Oro Khastan]

Heike, she came to him with a question. He lifted his head from the wall and turned the mask to look at her once more.
There was something different about her. Something in her eyes besides the heavy burden of her affliction. Hope, perhaps a measure of joy? something has lifted her soul just a little bit.
Whatever it was in her eyes, it made him happy to see it.
"In my time and my country I've seen vampires, I've seen them suffer, I've seen them embrace their affliction... I've also seen them enter the temple of the gods and come out human once more. I am convinced the gods do have the power to cure your affliction. Of course, I'm not convinced they would be willing to do so..."

He stood up and felt some of his joints creek and grind against each other, he had to reapply his oils and incense soon.
He faced her and went down to a knee before her.
"If I were ever to gain the power to reverse your affliction, I give you my word as a king and a demigod that I will not abandon you. I give you my word that I will cure you and return your humanity. I imagine that once I am free of my curse and my undeath that I will once again be able to pursue the power of the gods. Building up a following of people who accept me as such may be a step toward that end."

 

[Heike Eisen]

The gods.

No wonder the scourge of vampirism, lycanthropy, and other such woes remained to plague Arethil, despite the efforts of the best minds Mankind and Elvenkind and Dwarvenkind and every other race of peoples the world had to offer. No. Wonder.

If it came down to it, if Heike would be made to propitiate to a god or goddess such that her vampirism could be cured...then Heike would not do it. As much as it pained her to the absolute, utmost degree, she would not do it. And why should she. Demean and degrade herself through supplication to some callous creature, some spiteful Thing which had the gall to claim of itself "divinity," "greatness," pah, "holiness." No, these were the very same gods and goddesses who had allowed for Reikhurst to fall, and who had allowed for Heike to become afflicted in the first place.

Damn them all.

And Kalia...Kalia said he wanted this? To become as they? What if callousness inevitably followed? What if that timeless adage, "Power corrupts," was for the gods far more true than it was for Men? No. No, she couldn't. She couldn't allow for this, even if it were the only possible means by which vampirism could be cured, the cost was too much. She couldn't allow Kalia to do this to himself, even if it meant that she could save Ferelith Scathach, spare her the horror of the affliction that Heike herself--through negligence--had brought upon her. It was not just. It was not right.

Heike urgently thrust her palms forward and clapped them onto his shoulders.

Said, "No! Kalia, no. No. Don't. Don't go down that path. Not for my sake, not for anyone's sake. You had no control over how this happened, how the souls of your people turned you into what you are now. But you do have control over this. This moment. What you do next."

She shook her head.

"Why would you want to become more like them? Why? No good can come of it. Nothing! It's..."

An inevitable parallel entered into Heike's mind. Of how both she and Kalia had been "turned," estranged through transformation from mortal men and women, in their own separate ways. And how both had the option--the vile, corrupting option--of becoming more like the monsters who made them.

More like an ancient vampire, in Heike's case.

More like a true god, in Kalia's.

 

[Kalia Oro Khastan]

Passion... She was so passionate and her fear for him was genuine... She was right, he didn't have control over the situation he was in now, the curse of undeath he is under that seems to prevent him from achieving greater power...
But...
He put his wrapped hands over hers and held them there.
"Herr Heike Eisen... You are mistaken. I didn't choose my undeath, but I did choose the path of divinity. I was on the path of godhood long before the gods caught onto my schemes and struck me down. Believe me, you're concerns are not baseless and I've thought about them long and hard even before I ascended."

He took her hands in his and ran his thumbs across the backs of her hands.
"I did choose godhood, it was my choice, my asperation, and my dream... Did I do it for my people? Would I do it for you? Yes... But I also did it for myself, to reach an impossible height and achieve what my people considered a superstitious tradition that kings were gods themselves."
He lifted his head and looked at the clearing sky above them while they remained cloaked in the shadows of the buildings.
"Will I become like them?... I pray not... But with friends by my side, I hope that will be enough to keep my feet grounded on Arethil, its people, and its problems."
He looked at her again and squeezed her hands in his.

"I just remembered... As much as I would like to be the one to cure you myself, I've heard rumors of a merchant who was a vampire once, but he found a cure and has returned to his profession. I can't imagine how he did it, but if you're truly seeking a cure you might look for him and see how he did it."

 

[Heike Eisen]

Heike closed her eyes. Imagined, for a moment, that the hands Kalia placed on hers, the thumbs that rubbed against her gloves, were mortal. Of the flesh he had been born with. Imagined further, that her own hands, her own fingers, did not terminate in vicious claws.

Yet both had been changed. Transformed. Turned.

She opened her eyes. Bent her elbows to lean her face closer to his mask.

"Kalia...I implore you--I beg you--not to continue down this path you have laid out for yourself. Your prayers, your hopes," she twisted her head slowly, down and away, as if a shivering pain raked down the back of her neck, "if these are not enough? What then? Shall you allow for your very soul to turn cruel and callous? And for what? To reach an impossible height for the sole reason of proving its possibility?"

Back to Kalia. She could not have been more beseeching in her expression in the quiet moment that followed.

"This will not end well. And my only solace, should you choose to disregard my trepidation, is that I may yet be wrong, and those same prayers and hopes prevail."

She said it one last time. Once firm, "Do not, Kaila." Then pleading, "Do not."

He had made mention of a merchant who had found a cure for vampirism, and this of course alighted a curious hope that Heike tucked away in the back of her mind. Such rumors were often just that: rumors. Stories contorted out of their actual truth through too many retellings. It was worth it to follow up on this, of course, for the slim chance that it might be the elusive fortune that Heike sought.

But this, her well-being and by extension--should the rumor have merit--the well-being of Ferelith, did not take primacy in the moment.

Earnestly attempting to stop Kalia from making a grave mistake did.

 

[Kalia Oro Khastan]

Kalia sighed. He had always longed for this, for the power to rise above his station. From a slave to a war hero, from a hero to a king, from a king to a god...
But now he longed for this, to actually feel her under his touch, to feel her touch on him. It was like he was under sensory deprivation, where the only senses he had left to him were sight and hearing.
He listened to her pleading, begging him not to continue to strive for greatness.
"If only I thought it was possible, I would be swayed by your words... But consider your very touch... It hovers tantalizingly before me, even against me and I cannot feel it. The only pleasure I have to console my aching soul is the sight of beauty and the sound of your voice. I must break this curse of undeath to hopefully return to the realms of the living, but in doing so I may ascend regardless of my desires."

He placed the forehead of his mask against hers and sighed again. He spoke in his normal Kalitian accent.
"I know your fears, for they are mine as well. The power of the gods would corrupt any man. Absolute power corrupts absolutely, as the saying goes. But it's also true that saying came into being because absolute power attracts corruptible men. I am not so arrogant to make that claim that I am incorruptible, but as a king I've turned away from the cup of corruption many times."
He cupped her face in both of his massive hands and looked at her, truly looked at her. He looked beyond the fleshly appearance and his eyes pierced the ethereal plane. He saw her how she was, how she is in her soul. Still beautiful and in her prime.

"Let me show you a beautiful illusion... My friend."
With that his spirit reached out and pulled her through to the ethereal. Their bodies remained immobile while they moved freely.
The scene around them changed, sand blew in a flurry and cleared to reveal the desert of Amol Kalit. They stood on a high dune overlooking the intersection two rivers before they combined on their journey to the sea. On the banks and all around these rivers a grand city sprawled...

____________________________________​

Kalia stood beside Heike looking down at the city. He wore the same armor but it didn't look so ancient, rather it was polished without any sign of age. He wore no mask or wrappings or disguise. It seemed as though he stood taller with his back straight and shoulders relaxed. His black skin glistened in the sunlight and his dark eyes stared off into the distance.

Heike was with him in this vision, as her true self. The sun did not harm nor weaken her and for this illusion she was free of her affliction.

Kalia was looking down at the city in all its glory. Rising towers, immense structures, sprawling habitats. Everywhere one looked there was wealth and prosperity.
"Behold my ancient home... Djedi Akhmis."

 

[Heike Eisen]

His words made a painful amount of sense. A tragic amount, even.

She understood his desire clearly. Clearly. It was nothing short of pure agony to have not only the warmth of family, of lovers past, of brothers and sisters forged in the rigors of battle, not only these gone, but the warmth of civilization as a whole wrenched away from her in the wake of her affliction. To be left cold and alone were once that said warmth had been bountiful and seemingly without end. And by extension, with this greater lack of warmth came the loss of simple treasures. Closeness, contact, touch, as Kalia made special mention of. He had it worse, for he in his manner of undeath lacked the capacity for it altogether; for Heike, the ostracization brought on by affliction allowed for her to be tormented by the technical possibility, but the practical impossibility of having what she desired most.

The sight of beauty and the sound of her voice. Yet another simple treasure, to be appreciated, complimented. Ferelith had seen past her affliction as well, but both she and Kalia were the small exceptions to the otherwise ironclad rule. Just the words alone brought a shiver of pleasure trembling down her spine.

Kalia touched his mask to her forehead.

And she thought herself on the verge of tears. A swirling mixture of his awful plight, his kind words, and his resolve which she found to be intensely admirable but ultimately tragic. She wanted to believe in him. Desperately wished (dangerously wished, perhaps) that she was wrong, her concern warranted but in the end not borne out. But she could not allow for it.

For Reikhurst was in ruin, and these supposed gods and goddess were nothing more than mere spectators to the destruction of her home and the massacre of her people--if even that.

Heike allowed for him to move her head. Direct her gaze. Yes, she felt then that tears did cling to the edges of her eyes, blurring the corners of her vision.

Let me show you a beautiful illusion... My friend.

It was slow to come, delayed by her resistance to magic. But she did not fight it, did not look away or any thing else in such a vein. She allowed for herself to be shown this illusion. This manifestation, perhaps, of wishful thinking.

* * * * *

Spoiler: Heike's mortal self

(Female paladin, by Swerc)

Dunderstahd was gone. The truth of the village vanished, and replaced with the pleasant falsehood of a grand city.

And Kalia was different. He was not a diminished skeleton, transfigured by undeath to be so, cursed by the gods to be so. He was a mortal man, clad in the same--renewed--armor. His hard and strong features, his commanding presence and stern, sculpted face, causing her heart to beat in a swooning flutter.

Her heart.

To beat.

Heike glanced down. Saw her plate cuirass, her plackart, her faulds, her cuisses and greaves: the gold-tinted steel armor of her knighthood, of the Golden Blade. She lifted up her hands. Ripped off her illusory gauntlets and saw her hands. Her fingers. Her slender, normal, womanly fingers, not the claws of some abhorrent monster. She reached up and touched her hair and pulled a lock of it--that very same lock she had attempted to cut and had seen regrown back in the housing quarters of the salt mine camp--pulled that familiar lock before her eyes to see, yes, that it was not the faded gray of her affliction but the sandy-blonde of her mortality.

Behold my ancient home... Djedi Akhmis.

And Heike wept openly. Thought that, if asked in this moment of trembling vulnerability and joy, she might leave the truthful world behind in favor of this falsehood, this illusion--forever.

Heike just looked out, overwhelmed, across the vast and beautiful expanse of Kalia's home, tears rolling down her face.

And basked in the lost. In what was. In what could not be so again.

 

[Kalia Oro Khastan]

Kalia knew it was an illusion, he crafted it himself, but this was far from the first time he'd recreated this image. Every time he sought to feel something, even for a moment, to feel pain or pleasure... But the illusion only offered a cheap imitation and he always left the illusion feeling even more unfulfilled.
He knelt beside Heike and placed an arm around her armored shoulder.
Even that simple touch was only a false sensation impressed upon his mind. He felt it, but didn't truly feel it. His frustration grew but he held Heike tighter.

"This... This was the last time I saw my city before I went off to war... Before the gods discovered my sin... Before I was struck down right on the cusp of victory... I intend to see it restored, and to one day see myself restored."
He looked down at her. His bronze mask was indeed a very close likeness to his face, though it was far less vivid or expressive. But he didn't wear any mask now. There was no sign of burial cloth or death mask on his person.
And she... restored to humanity... Was as fair as the smoothest sands, Her hair he just wanted to sift through his fingers and feel its silkiness. It made his soul ache even more.

"I believe the secret to our restoration lies in my city, buried somewhere beneath my palace. There must be something there, something that tells the full tale from the gods prospective that will give us the key to reversing all the cruelty they put us through."
He turned her to face him, wiping the tears from her eyes with his large thumbs as he cupped her face in his hands.
"The gods do not know all... They tried to kill me and failed. They can be beaten, they can be defeated. We just need to figure out how."

 

[Heike Eisen]

Her tears were real; that Heike knew for certain. In Dunderstahd they ran down the face of what she had become, but here they ran down the illusory face of what she had been. And here, she could wipe at her cheeks with the beautiful fingers she had once known. Gone were the monstrous claws that had malformed her hands.

Kalia wiped the tears gathered at the edges of her eyes. Cupped her face in his palms. And she raised her right hand and placed it gently over his left--this, blissfully, without the delicate concern of inadvertently causing injury.

The secret to our restoration. In his city, in the buried Djedi Akhmis of old. Heike cared not for the gods' perspective on the tale, for nothing within it could make for a sufficient excuse to her. But she cared most dearly about finding a way to undo the evil they had perpetrated (or allowed to happen through inaction, as it was with Heike) upon them. She wished with all the strength of her beating heart--a heart brought only to life by the facade of the illusion--to walk back into Reikhurst restored as a mortal woman, an untainted human being. Her home would still lay in ruin, but this one thing, this singular cruelty of that tragic night, could be rectified.

Yet even so, that deep tremor of worry shook her.

And she said in a low voice, "I do not wish for you to become corrupted. To become as they are, and lose yourself."

Behind her eyes, that fierce battle between what she desperately desired, and that utter certainty that the road Kalia intended to go down would be the ruin of his good soul.

Kalia Oro Khastan

 

[Kalia Oro Khastan]

The illusion faded, the houses of Dunderstahd returned, as did the wrappings and robes. His face turned bronze and painted once more.
Kalia sighed, he still held her face with his wrapped hands. That illusion took more power out of him, but it was worth it.
"Sometimes I wonder what value my soul has... The gods don't value it anymore, willing to condemn me to the void, and the demons cannot claim it because it has ascended beyond them."
"There are only two paths before me that I can find... My final death, and godhood. I've not found any other option, and I refuse to accept death. I cannot bare the thought of simply being content with the way I am now, unfeeling, unemotional, undead. Please understand, Heike. Until another option presents itself, forward is the only direction I can go now."

He wished he kept the illusion up just a little longer. Even if it was torture for him he wanted so badly to kiss her. All he could do is sigh again in frustration, his soul was even more tired and again no rest would bring him relief until his power was replenished.
It was the worst feeling to have, having the need to sit down but also being tired of sitting down, a deep seated ache in ones very bones where nothing satisfies the yearning.

The day was drawing on and turned out to be a rather clear day, with only a few light fluffy clouds drifting in the sky.
Sounds of construction could be heard in the distance as the villagers went about improving the village border.
There work wasn't done yet, they still had to rescue the daughters of Dunderstahd and destroy the remnant of the enemy deserters.
"I'm sorry I cannot alleviate your fears... But this is simply the only way... My only chance of being "human" again... If I'm a god then at least I can create a mortal body to live in. It will be me pretending to be human again, but at least I would be able to believe my own lie."

 

[Heike Eisen]

Gone was her armor, her fingers, her hair and her eyes and her mortal skin when Dunderstahd and the real Arethil came rushing back. And she was that abhorrent monster yet again. Kalia's own hands departed from the flesh of what was, and wrapped in shallow imitation once again.

Heike wanted to understand. No, that was inaccurate. She wanted there to be some other way for him. He had said there was no other option--none that he had yet found--but wishful thinking stabbed into her, and there was no pain quite like fighting in futility. She did understand quite well his desire, for she harbored the very same--the shedding of an affliction that had twisted her so. But what length was too far, what cost was too great, she had a more firmly established idea than before. There were lines which she would not cross--even if in so doing she could grasp that faint hope of being cleansed of her affliction and make it a reality.

No, he could not alleviate her fears. Still she thought that Kalia's quest to become as the gods to rid himself of his undeath was akin to Heike becoming as a vampire lord to rid herself of her vampirism. A shoddy parallel, but it was the spirit of it: the act of allowing oneself to become more like the loathsome beings responsible for their respective curses in an effort to undo what was done.

This was one line Heike refused to cross. She would die before she allowed herself permission to cross it.

Heike lowered her head and her eyes. Said quietly, "Then I can only wish you well, Kalia. I cannot be party to you pursuing a path that I believe leads to corruption, but...I truly...truly...hope that I am in error."

She didn't say anything more. This, as moments marched by. Then Heike adjusted her hood and raised up her mask and shifted her stance, ensuring that the sun's rays harmlessly fell on her clothes and not the flesh of her face.

Said, more levelly, "We still have a task to finish."

Kalia Oro Khastan

 

[Kalia Oro Khastan]

A deep sadness filled his soul at her words. She was right, and maybe he was in denial about his own strength of will, but this was for the sake of his people and he was a king first and foremost. He wasn't even necessarily a good man, he's done great and terrible things as a king and an undead that he doesn't regret in the slightest. Perhaps she misjudged his character, or maybe he simply forgot, inspired by her own inner light.
He closed himself off, she had denied him and that was a pain he felt all the more acutely without distraction if chemical emotions.

"Yes, you're right... We've still got the rest of the deserters to clean up and the village girls to rescue."
He let go of her face and straightened, his exaggerated heroic speech returned.
"The survivors will be desperate, no doubt. I anticipate a hostage situation, those women will be their bargaining chip for safe passage out of the ruin and to the safety of the wilderness. But we have time until nightfall since they will be trying to pack all the remaining wealth they've accumulated."
With that he turned. Tears would have run from his eyes if he possessed either organ.
He squared his shoulders and stood tall once more.

"We will prepare the villagers and move out at nightfall.
Herr Heike Eisen. You will have to go ahead of us and be prepared to prevent any harm from befalling their captives. I imagine they will have the woman presented in full view from the ruin walls in preparation to be slain or cast down in full view of our forces. They will make demands, but whether we accept them or refuse rely on your swift action and the safety of the village daughters."
He was all business once again, but wouldn't turn his mask to face her. All he felt was the shame of his entire predicament and the sting of her refusal. He didn't hate her and wasn't angry. But ashamed that he couldn't be justified in his actions or reasoning no matter where he tried to reason with himself or others. Thus he was dubbed by the gods, "The Avatar of Shame".