Open Chronicles The Burning of Elbion

[Gaheris]

SEWERS
ELBION

Gaheris dropped off the ladder, landing on the wet, stone floor with a sickening squelch. It smelled like death down here - death and shit. Or it must have, anyway. He couldn't quite tell. There was a beak-shaped mask over his nose and mouth, stuffed to the brim with dried herbs and flowers.

Everything smelled like the interior of a pleasant alchemist's shop now.

Ahead of him, one of the Red Guild armsmen struck a torch, illuminating the squalor of their surroundings. There were five other men in total, all wearing similar masks. Wastewater struggled along in a small channel to their left.

Masks or not, no one was keen on staying down here too long. It was creepy.

The one with the torch was already getting antsy. "You sure you know the way?"

Gaheris snorted, heedlessly marching forward. He took the torch from the armsman as he passed him.

"By heart."

 

[Maecey]

College - Staff Quarters

"Fuck." Maecey declared as she stared up at a door that was four times her size and eight times as complicated.

She had expected that there would be guards or something barring entrance to the Staff Quarters, it was only reasonable, but she hadn't thought it would be something like this. The Door to the staff quarters was a complex thing, several locks all kept in place with what seemed to be a strange puzzle.

The Halfling suspected that most of the Maestars and Professors were taught it at one point, but she didn't exactly have the Academic lineage for that sort of thing. Her lips thinned into a frown as she studied the door, head turning over her shoulder now and again to check no one was sneaking up on her.

Lips thinned, and briefly she thought about what would happen if she got this wrong too many times.

She hoped that whatever was going on outside kept the attention of everyone else, particularly those odd fellows with the masks. Frowning, the Halfling grabbed onto small notches in the door, climbing it so she could begin to fiddle with the puzzle.

 

[Eren Damar]

Thane Jackdaw​

She banked a little too hard on that last corner, those soft leather boots sliding recklessly across the weathered and beaten cobblestones before her natural dexterity took over and allowed her to avoid certain disaster. No that she could afford to slow down, not now. The lumbering sounds of pursuit from the silver haired warrior had ruled that out. On any other day, she would simply flash her dagger or perhaps draw a thin line of blood to ward off any untoward attention, but she somehow doubted the warrior would be so easily dissuaded from his quarry.

And somehow he wasn’t the worst issue she had to contend with.

Now traversing the steep incline that circumnavigated the eastern reach of the College, bringing her up and alongside the very walls themselves, it was hard not to notice the sounds of carnage, terror and arcane exchanges unfolding from within. Panic, smoke and death all hanging in the air like an ominous specter. Painting an all too vivid picture of what awaited her. Not for the second (or even fifth) time in as many minutes, she questioned the impulse that had driven her here. Curiosity was one thing, greed another. Both just as liable to get her killed.

Again, assuming the silver haired warrior pounding up a storm on the cobblestones behind her didn't get to her first, of course.

The sight of the old porter gate lent a small sliver of hope, however. While it had been long since abandoned and walled up sometime in the last century or so, the defencive wards on the walls should have been thinnest there. With a little luck, the ongoing attack would’ve stretched them even more, enough that she could absorb the excess away. Still not exactly the entrance she would’ve chosen ahead of time, but a good thief had to know when to adapt to the unexpected.

‘Or the really stupid,’ she mentally chided, pushing herself that little bit harder as she charted a sudden diagonal path away from the wall, almost cliding with the building on the opposite side of the street before she veered sharply back. Sprinting dead at the former gate, her small reservoir of stored mana opening to flood her veins with an electric charge, the pressure in her legs building with every footfall as she began to direct the flow. The words she had learnt by rote in the very school she was about to break into gliding into place as she leapt…

“Solpeth Piripson!”

Like a sudden detonation, what had seemed like an ill-timed, early leap doomed in failure quickly became a catapulting rush that cast her high above the tip of the former gate. A single hand catching the top to stall her heavenly rush, baleful magic licking her fingers as the wards attempted to react to the intruder, only to find the mana charging them spirited away into the conduits of the very same thief they sought to bar entry to. Only accomplishing a mild singing of the digits before the folded altogether.

“Balls,” Eren cursed softly, tucking the tips of her fingers into her mouth while casting a glance back towards the street below to see if her pursuer was still keeping pace. Sure enough, the silver lummox was crashing into view even now. She snorted softly, flipping off with her free, unburnt hand before dropping from the wall altogether and into the awaiting college below.

Try following that.

 

[Thane Jackdaw]

COURTYARD
EAST SIDE

Eren Damar; Trajan Meng

For all the supernatural speed he possessed, Thane was still trailing on to match the Kavoshi's agility slipping through the crowd of people. The monster hunter's size also didn't help. He shoved, crashed and nearly tumbled at almost every person, cart and other obstacle heavily disrupting his pace in the process.

He just managed to turn the corner on the eastern reach of the College to see in plain sight what, at first, looked like the woman was aiming to knock herself out in the brick wall. Just as she was about to crash into it like a complete idiot, Thane's magic senses tingled and the Kavoshi lunged unnaturally upwards reaching the top of the wall but nearly stumbling back. Seeing her use of magic both looked extremely professional but at the same time clumsy. Her 'show' ended with a flip off the finger at him and a wardless portion of the wall.

Spelleater. One of the many terms to describe her abilities. A rarity. Something also incredibly rare among monsters, too.

It just couldn't get worse, could it?

Thane grumbled a swear under his breath and hurried after her. Upon halting at the piece of the wall where she had jumped over. The wards which tend to protect these walls against transgression were indeed leeched proving his initial thought. "Always the short straw."

He drew a rune in the air before him and a telekinetic blast punched through the wall sending brick and mortar into the other side. Behind it, on the run, was the spellthief. Thane went straight after her like an unstoppable force. The tunnel vision blurred out upon viewing the whole picture of what was going on.

A sole man going up against the College. Courtyard littered with bodies. The front entry burning cinder. From the opposite side (west), a band of robed figures inauspiciously made entry into the College grounds. They bode ill omen and the Kavosh was heading straight towards their direction. Intuition warned him and he barked at the mischievous Kavoshi woman.

"Wait!" even through all the commotion, she probably could make out his voice. "Don't go there!"

 

[Spencer]

Air was sucked through the blonde girl’s teeth as she felt the small creature claw and cling her way around her. It seemed Tabatha didn’t like hanging around where they were. Guess when you become all powerful it was all about self-preservation, a whole lot of good that did the small kitten. Chuckling, the girl patted the cat’s head and nodded. “I will, once I defeat this bad guy.” She moved slightly seeing that the man was now talking to the boy that had protected her. The ice wall had soon dissipated, without a blood signature the spell wasn’t as strong as it could be.

Watching the scene unfold between the man talking about the wise ol professor Sparkhawk, had her wishing she had a bag of popcorn or candy. It was such an intense moment between the two she wondered how lucky she was to be here. Remembering that this was real life and not a book with moving pictures, Spencer took a few steps back and gave herself some distance between the man who continued to advance. “He anyone you know Meow Meow? I mean you used to be some swanky sorceress or something right?” The young girl could only imagine some of the hippest parties for the best of the best in magic and sorcery – maybe her cat Tabatha knew this guy from her past life.

Either way, it was time for the greatest mage alive to act, because it seemed like her super cute hero had his tongue caught by a cat. Musing at her cleverness, the girl drew a scroll and pricked her finger with the quill. Using her own blood, she drew a quick spell of hardened ice balls, once she was finished – she signed it and crumpled up the parchment.

With a mighty swing of her arm she chucked it at the man yelling at her new boyfriend Alistair Wren , “Pila glacies, butio!” The paper erupted into several ice balls and hurled their way at Maho 'Jerik' Sparhawk . She winced as she felt the exchange of using her own blood to empower the smell, that always stung a little bit. “Alistair, we should go – he doesn’t look like good news.” She picked up the boy’s name from the shouting intruder.

 

[Alistair Wren]

Steam rose around Alistair's feet as he stood before Sparhawk, the tension between them so thick, a knife could have cut it. Holding his ground, the young apprentice breathed in, his gaze unfaltering as he beheld his master. Sparhawk said that he was not as cruel or unforgiving as the college, and that Alistair had betrayed him, which made Alistair creased his brow, suddenly confused. What had Gerra done to him to make him believe that the college was cruel, and that Alistair had betrayed him? It didn't make any sense.

Alistair shifted his eyes, perplexed by Sparhawk's mad accusation.

"I never betrayed you, master."

Sparhawk held out his hand, and Alistair stared at it for a moment, before the rogue pyromancer mentioned a letter, in which the college had ordered Alistair to make sure he had died at the battle.

Alistair froze. Slowly, he withdrew his hand. His eyes widened and he breathed in, suddenly overcome with burning rage. He knew what had happened. Gerra had brainwashed Maho into believing the college had tried to kill him. That was why he was here, to exact his revenge on the people he believed to be his enemies.

"There was no letter, master, the college never ordered me to kill you, it's only what Gerra made you believe," Alistair said sternly, shaking his head at the thought.

The bastard. The monster. He had manipulated Sparhawk into believing his friends were his foes, and in so doing, drove him to murder them. Alistair shook with rage, his lips quaking. Sparhawk's hand remained in front of him, but he batted it aside and shrugged, releasing a heavy sigh. Something hit Sparhawk in the back and he stumbled over, still reaching up at Alistair and demanding he defend himself.

"I won't kill you," he shook his head. "You need to come with me and we can fight Gerra together, we can end this." He spoke passionately, his words infused with anger.

The young girl hurled a spell at Sparhawk, which erupted into several ice balls. She then told Alistair that they should leave.

Unphazed, Alistair waved a hand towards the corridor, "run, I need to face him."

The college throbbed with the heat from Sparhawk's form, the corridors entombed with flames. As Sparhawk rose to his feet, Alistair swerved to the side and extended both hands. Cupping his fingers, he drew the oxygen in the fire to him and combusted it, then lunged his hands forward, causing it to explode in Sparhawk's face. It wouldn't be enough to kill him, but certainly weaken him. The explosion rattled the interior of the college, splitting wood and marble.

Alistair was thrown off his feet and landed a few meters away. Scrambling, he gripped his robes and stood, then cupped his hands, preparing to cast again.

 

[Harrier]

The desiccated secruyu lizard scuttled away and vanished for the time being. Harrier's focus lay elsewhere.

The pyromaniac turned his back on her without retaliating. Harrier's focus lay elsewhere.

The boy and a girl attacked Sparhawk with flame and ice, respectively. And still, Harrier's focus lay entirely elsewhere. Because, by attacking Sparhawk with weakly paralytic venom, the undead secruyu had injected a small portion of itself into his bloodstream, and that portion was susceptible to necromancy.

Sparhawk's sheer power prevented Harrier from exerting sustained or complex control over something within his body. She had room for exactly one command, and it had to be simple. <Come together,> she said in her mind's eye, and committed the power that she'd siphoned from the staff and the fire. Somewhere close by, the undead secruyu died for the final time, another small price paid. Harrier's features rippled and normalized as she sacrificed her mimicry disguise too. Right now she didn't particularly care if she was recognized as Harrier Wren. Every bit of scavenged, hoarded power made a difference now.

<Come together,> she said again to the undead lizard venom in Maho 'Jerik' Sparhawk's body.

She aimed to make a clot. Where it might lodge -- heart, brain, major blood vessel, somewhere less incapacitating -- was anyone's guess.

 

[Neremyn Virvyre]

The pauldron radiated heat as the exchange of entropy to controlled magic took hold beneath the banner of growth. The bear shook as the sprig grew into a shrub and then grew into a sapling. The girth became nearly too much but the bear totem held on fiercely as the height took on such an impressive stature that Ere had to duck to avoid the next archway before the courtyard preceding the front gate.

When the growth had reached its final stages, the bear totem clinched down and heaved, pinching the staff off at the base. As the felled sapling plummeted from the shoulder armor, over six feet in height, Ere held out a hand and caught the shaft. In its wake, a flattened stump stood on the pauldron and for the moment, served as a flowering throne for the temporarily exhausted totem.

The wood of the staff was striated and sinewy, like the muscles of a sprinter stripped of all flesh. It was deceptively hard and clearly shared kinship with the hornbeam. In some places, it was commonly called muscle wood. Carpinus. The muscly tree fibers twirled around themselves and spiraled towards a crown of branches that would have served for a proper seat for a quartzite or magical stone. But there was already something in its place.

A pine cone. But not just any pine cone. It was a naturally growing pine cone, alien to the otherwise non evergreen sapling, that stood nearly eight inches from base to peak. As Ere walked towards the encounter, clicking the staff against chipped and charred cobble, the pine cone responded to countless expressions of magic. The scales, like vaulted levels of a conical building, opened up in tiers. The venting showered each stage of the cone with scarlet tendrils. The sound that erupted from the vent was piercing, like a decoction between a high pitched wail from a wandering spirit and the sound of a Troll pinching its nose just prior to a monstrous sneeze.

As one vent opened, another closed rhythmically, as if Ere had mounted an 8 inch musical instrument atop a clearly magical staff. But it was not an instrument. It was a source. A point for energy to transfer from the ambient world into something attainable and passive. It would now take him little effort to draw from the intersections of various magic corridors that crossed beneath the cobble pathways of the Elbion college.

And the pine cone was so much more.

Striding out into the confluence of this engagement, he spied those who had gathered and those that had foolishly taken part in any component of the destruction of the College. He held no true love of this place but it was somewhere to hang his hat. A place to tutor and teach and learn in aeternum. And as a Maester, he held certain unshakable responsibilities.

“Ess aen glosse, Kermode…” He whispered to the bear totem, holding the staff on the same side of his body as the pauldron from whence it grew. The bear nodded and stood up, directing its reflective anthracite eyes towards Alistair Wren and Maho 'Jerik' Sparhawk.

“Use of Magic, in such fashion…” He uttered, words carried weightily across the ether, to the combatants. “Is strictly forbidden on this campus.” That may have not been entirely true, but it seemed like an appropriate reminder.

Had he heard the words of the hydromancer, he might have instantly repudiated the gestures. No one who had caused so much harm, so much death, would be free to continue to exact vengeance. And while Ere could not immediately sort out the cause for all this strife, he had a fairly good idea where the needle should point.

 

[Chadwick Strongpants]

The students were obviously terrified of what was going to happen to them, that fear would likely be the greatest weapon against them Chad knew he had to calm them down. He decided that the best thing would be to just keep talking fill them with national pride, nothing prepares one for death life pride in their tribe, and the belief they are fighting for more than just their lives.

"If we look to the answer as to why for so many years we achieved so much, prospered as no other people on Arethil, it was because here in this land we unleashed the energy and individual genius of man to a greater extent than has ever been done before. Freedom and the dignity of the individual have been more available and assured here than in any other place on Arethil. The price for this freedom at times has been high, but we have never been unwilling to pay that price.

All men are born to die. We know it. We carry it with us always. If your day be today, so be it. Mine will be tomorrow. Or mine today and yours tomorrow. It matters not. What matters is that you know in your hearts that today you are this kingdom united. You are Elbion, each and every one of you. Elbion is you. Fight not for yourselves, but for you brothers, and sisters in arms beside you. Fight for Elbion. Make Elbion flesh today. Make it mass. Make it unbreakable. Make it yours. Make it Elbion! Make it Elbion! And Elbion will not go quietly into that good night! There may come a day where Elbion fades, but it is not this night! This night Elbion shines brighter than ever! This night Elbion stands as one!

So let me ask you, 'Are you Elbion? Who are you!?"

"I'm Elbion"

"Who are you!"

"I'm Elbion"

 

[Maho 'Jerik' Sparhawk]

Don't deny it Alistair. Not to my face.

Of course there was a letter. I saw it with my own eyes, the Fifth Council seal and all.

They all wanted me dead. Ever since Belgrath everyone i've come across has had ulterior motives. You, worst of all, shouldn't lie to me.

Why would Gerra trick me? He'd never tricked me before. He was my one friend. He was my only friend. He'd never betray me.

...

No.

Of course he wouldn't.

Seemingly from out of nowhere, several balls of ice shot their way towards him from some random girl he didn't recognise. Oddly enough, she seemed strangely familiar. But that was not his primary concern, as he raised a small-ward, blocking most of the attacks. One ball in particular however, caught him nastily on his shoulder, making him wince in pain.

Before he had time to retaliate, he saw the oxygen from his fire converge at Alistair's hands.

Taking the fuel out of my fire?

Trying to put it out?

What could he be doing...

He did not think fast enough. As Alistair's hands faced forward, all the air that he had absorbed blew up in Jerik's face. The impact was so powerful, that Jerik was sent flying into the air, his back nastily hitting one of the arch-ways that crossed between an upper-floor. He heard a great crack as he collided with the great wooden beam, hitting the floor with a nasty crash. He struggled to get up, as he felt his broken ribs press against his muscles, and his bruised back scream in pain.

As he lay on the floor, he looked at his hand, the rings brandished in the fire.

The Ring of Sekhem.

With a thought, he commanded the ring to do his bidding. From the bodies of those who had fallen, he could feel their arcane essence travel into his body. As it filled him, he could feel himself replenish and revitalise, fretted not by his previous injuries. He worked his way to a standing position, still reeling back from the pain he was in. The glow about him was as bright as ever.

Alistair...

"It is the College that will meet it's end. I have only just begun." He said, colder than ever.And in that brief moment, he put absolutely everything he had into one, final spell.

"Now, Alistair- Prepare for your end."
​

And in that brief moment, he put absolutely everything he had into one, final spell. The spell didn't just come from his hands, or from a ward he had summoned. The fire he had conjured around him seemed to unite itself into Jerik's body. The room became less and less hot, the wooden beams and architecture no longer in flames. It just kept flowing, and flowing into his body, his eyes closed with concentration. Until, when his body could take no more, he let out a harsh scream, as he poured all of his arcane energy into one more inferno.

It seemed to come from all angles of Jerik's body; a fire hotter than anything he had ever conjured before seemed all encompassing. It fired at such an extreme velocity, that he could feel his own body being lifted by the forces facing against him. He felt Invincible.

However, he knew better than anyone there, that this spell was his last. Unless he drained more bodies with the ring of Sekhem, which - at this point - was mostly drained, he'd have to either escape, or die right there.

And he didn't plan on the latter.

 

[Trajan Meng]

WESTERN CORNER OF THE COLLEGE, COURTYARD​

They had been seen. A younger man, student. Trajan wasn't concerned; such was a likely possibility, and hence one of the reasons they'd donned the College robes. The boy had cast a blue ward when he saw the Luminari enter--a panic response if Trajan ever saw one--but otherwise did nothing. Khadija made a gesture directed the boy, pointing at him and jerking her thumb back toward the breach in a manner that seemed to say: Get the hell out, what are you waiting for?

Perhaps he would listen. Perhaps he would not.

But the important matter was ensuring the Man continued his assault, for He was the lynchpin of everything. Even if Trajan could muster the whole of the Luminari they would not be able to stand against the arcane might of the College. But this Man, whoever He was, had within Him the raw command of magical power to devastate the facade of the College itself, to decimate the traitorous professors and mind-numbed students who opposed Him. He had to be aided at all costs.

Merely the two of them, Trajan and Kha; the other believers had all dispersed and set out on their grim task. But if they aimed true and struck at the right moment, then the two of them might all be what was needed.

From along the western side of the massive building, Trajan and Kha approached. They gave the magical flames still burning on the walls a wide berth, peering around at the rest of the courtyard as they cautiously circled out from the corner. The full courtyard in view, the trail of destruction readily apparent, the bodies certainly still warm. They could not yet see the Man, but from the eastern wall a dark-haired woman dropped down and a silver-haired man literally burst through. Trajan scowled. Yet another danger: the opportunists. He and his Luminari fit well within that category, but certainly there were a number of independent actors--on no one's side but their own--hurrying to take advantage of the situation. These both a blessing and curse, for they could help keep the College in disarray, yes, but still they might prove a hazard to Trajan and his believers.

Trajan and Kha circled around the corner just a bit more, their field of view coming around as they peeked inside the split-open building and into the grand front hall. And through all the flames and debris and wreckage they saw Him, the Man described by Dio's birds. He'd a number of combatants facing off against Him: a young man, a very young girl, another dark-haired woman, Maester Virvyre himself. Trajan and Kha witnessed the ice magic, the explosion from the young man, the Man thrown upward by the force.

Trajan and Kha ducked back around the corner until line of sight was broken. They glanced at each other. Nodded. This was the time.

They hurriedly took off their College robes and dropped them to the ground, Trajan laying his warhammer by his feet. Each ripped large pieces from the cloth and tied them over their noses and mouths: impromptu masks. The disguises would not be needed--nor effective--after this, and the robes were bulky, stifling, as they had worn them over their own clothes and armor and gear. They would need all the agility they could get.

Trajan and Kha each unshouldered their crossbows and set about loading them. The exploding bolts were expensive, just like the Stonecrackers, but no price was too great. The explosions of the bolts paled in comparison to those brought to manifest by magical spells, but this was the only option the Luminari had. Trajan was loathe to give an enemy mage a second chance--therein lay disaster--and the exploding bolts were as lethal an option as he could muster.

"I've got the young man," Trajan said.

"And I've got the blonde girl," Kha said.

"Ready."

"Ready."

Trajan and Kha came around from the western corner of the College again, the heat of the flames bathing their faces. They came around just enough until they could see their targets; Alistair Wren and Spencer. They kneeled down. Aimed carefully.

And fired.

They didn't wait to see if they had hit or not. Trajan and Kha hustled back around the corner of the building. Hit-and-run. For while their intent was to aid the Man in his rampage, the Man did not know they were secretly his allies; He as dangerous to them as any of the College mages, for He was more a force of nature on this day of days, and Trajan and Kha dared not catch his direct attention nor be caught in his path.

Alistair Wren Spencer

 

[Harrier]

Whether Harrier's attacks had accomplished anything was an open question that she had no time to ponder. She put up a basic ward of classic College magic. A heartbeat later, a flaming explosion threw her put of the rubble and back into the courtyard proper. She caught a surreal glimpse of two crossbowmen hurrying away. Between them, the preachy druid, and the three or four other mages involved in the fight, the area was getting, somehow, even more dangerous.

More importantly, the College was finally fighting back, which meant she was no longer needed.

She realized all this as she skidded across the courtyard. When she collected herself in a smoking heap, departing seemed best. After all, she'd sacrificed her disguise, and she remained an exile from Elbion. She wrapped her burnt cloak tighter, pulled the hood down lower, and headed out of town.

 

[Tabatha]

Tabatha gave up with the claws, wriggling free to clamber to @Spencer’s shoulders. “Your sense of self preservation is disgustingly absent.” The kitten eyed the exits, sitting on the young mages shoulder, her tail curling around the girls next.

Another ridiculous question. “No.” She spat, without looking, watching the girls back instead. ‘Some swanky sorceress’...the words burned far more than they should have. A swanky Sorceress? No, she was far more. Far greater. She felt the familiar tingle of magic as Spencer fired another spell. If she could have rolled her eyes, she would have.

The heat rose at her back and Tabatha glanced over her shoulder as the attacker began drawing the fire into himself. “Run.” Fear made her fur stand on end. “RUN!” She turned to leap from the girls shoulder seeing two others from behind aiming crossbows. She hissed loudly, leaping for the bolt aimed at her mage’s back. Tiny paws smacked the bolt, adjusting the course enough to have it whizz past Spencer’s head instead.

Tabatha landed as Jerik screamed, and she scrambled for the door behind them unbearable heat singing her fur as the library around them began to crumble.

 

[Kikwi]

”Maester, I cannot do it. The assignment is too difficult.”

The old owl looked up at the student, his large eyes paled by age. “Too difficult? Nonsense. Nothing is too difficult if you have the passion to try!”

The student dropped their head into their hands. “But there is so much we don’t know. So much I don’t know. What if I fail? What if I make a mistake?”

“Mistake!” The owl hopped down off of the stool he had been sitting on and clicked his beak. He made his way over to the student, leaning a tiny body on an even tinier cane. “Mistakes are simply detours. Mistakes are how we learn. Why… mistakes can even lead to greatness in themselves!”

An expression of perplexion. “How could a mistake possibly be great?”

The owl’s eyes narrowed in mischievous glee. “Let me tell you about one of my greatest mistakes…”


____________________________________________________________________

The college was a sea of rushing feet, swishing robes, and fire. It was disorienting, overwhelming, and oppressively hot. Nevertheless, Kikwi pushed on down the halls, following what he believed to be Willis’ path. It was easy enough to figure out, as the heat only grew more intense the closer he came to the grand hall.

He pulled a scroll out of his robes and began waving it about, trying to get the attention of someone in Elbion robes. ”Here, here! I have a scroll! Use this!” No one seemed to be able to hear him. Even the people running towards the chaos, whom he assumed were going to help, seemed not to notice him. No matter, there would be more competent spellcasters further up, he reasoned.

More rubble here, deeper smoke. Small as he was, Kikwi skirted under the worst of the smog, but his large eyes stung and had begun to water. Clear membranes flicked horizontally over his eyes, the third eyelid trying to clear debris while still allowing him to see.

A group of people came towards him, and Kikwi held out the scroll once more. ”Here! Take-” but they did not heed his calls, and bowled him over in their panic. The scroll was knocked loose from his hand, and fluttered into the flames. With a glitter of extinguished magic, it was consumed in an instant. Kikwi’s heart dropped. Scumps.

No matter, he had more scrolls. He picked himself up and kept going.

Just then, something peculiar began to happen. The heat had begun to lessen, and the flames seemed to dwindle. The air cleared for a moment, and Kikwi could see a large archway. Flickers of flames seemed to be drawn through it. It must be where the battle was happening.

He slowed to a walk and pulled another scroll from his robes, but this one was whisked from his hand by a strong gust of wind at his back. The paper whipped forwards as it too was sucked into the grand hall.

Kikwi stopped, an alert had been raised in his mind. Something was not right. Where had that wind come from? There hadn’t been any before, and what windows there were had not been large enough for such a gale. So if the wind hadn’t come from behind him….

Something was drawing it inside.

Something was drawing the air in. What could do that? What would consume such a large volume of air in such a short amount of time? Kikwi glanced at a small, flickering flame in the corner.

Double scumps.

He saw the light before he heard the explosion, and before he could process what had happened he was thrown flat on his back and pushed down the hallway. Tendrils of white-hot flames had licked out of the grand archway, and had he been just ten meters further he would surely have been turned to vapor.

Well… things couldn’t explode more than once, right?

It took a moment to steady himself, but Kikwi hobbled to the archway. Peering inside he could see the utter devastation. What had once been the great entryway was now a smouldering pile of rubble and flame. Sunbeams shone through holes in the roof, and a steady rain of pebbles and dust fell through the thick air.

He could see figures in the distance, difficult to make out.

Kikwi squeaked as he saw it. A horrible, mangled… person? Glowing with fire, standing at the epicenter of the destruction. There was no doubt that this was the monster that was attacking them.

Kikwi swallowed. ”I… I have scrolls here!” he said, quieter than before. ”Somebody! Someone magic use these scrolls!” Please let there be someone who could help him.

No one was listening. Maybe they needed to know what the scrolls did. Maybe they could only use certain ones? Kikwi didn’t know how these things worked, so that seemed just as likely an explanation as any. He certainly didn’t know that one did not need to be magical to use these scrolls.

He pulled out the next scroll and unfurled it. It was the one written in pretty green ink with the drawings of flying insects. ”This one is, uh, an insect scroll?” he yelled to anyone who would listen. ”A bug spell.” Maybe they needed to know more specifics. ”Um, it says muh… mmmulta…” He squinted at the paper, reading the letters as best he could. ”Multa.. Insecta… Malum! Multa Insecta Malum! It sa-”

He was interrupted by an explosion of brilliant green light, and was again knocked to the ground. He was blinded and his ears were ringing. No… not ringing… buzzing.

Opening his eyes he saw a blur of emerald shimmers. The scroll was gone and a massive swarm of insects was buzzing around him. They flew in a great cloud, and for a moment Kikwi was hypnotized, staring at their beauty. Then they stopped, hovering in front of him. They had great gnashing pincers, and long jagged stingers. They did not look happy.

Kikwi stared at them, and they stared back. They looked like they were waiting. Kikwi lifted a shaking hand, and pointed at Maho Sparhawk.

”H-him. He’s the bad guy.”

In an instant, the swarm bolted towards the scarred man, a javelin of angry, buzzing fury.

 

[Karl von Stehlen]

"I’ve got your back. Nothing alive will ever hurt you if I have breath in me. And nothing dead will hurt you if I don’t.”
-Kim Harrison​

clip-clop...clip-clop....clip-clop...clip-clop....clip-clop

Had one been listening, it would have been what someone would have heard. The sound of a horse trotting in the, easily lost in the chaos. But the noise soon turned into a being, as a full grown warhorse rounded the corner of the courtyard entrance.

Might have caught someone off guard to see such a beast-of-burden on the main school-grounds, and given the circumstance they might not have even noticed the rider yet, especially as the mount was urged into a full gallop, stright towards the action...

Man and horse, both with potential of being scary, combined they can be ultimately terrifying for those caught in their path. A massive force of combined beasts, both armored, moving very fast....charging stright towards the action...stright at the projectile that was hurtling towards Allister....and then...

BOOM​

Detonation, the mount and man would be engulfed by a flurry of dust...as did Allister...

A moment would...before, suddenly! A barded horse came galloping out of the dust and away from the scene, seemingly not content on getting blasted again...though the horse seemed to have taken limited damage, which meant...where was the rider?

As the dust continued to settle, one could see the faint glow of...a shining curved cross...as visibility became clear, it was apparent; the symbol of a shield, held up in defense of the casting mage. As the dust finally settled, what was left was a hulk of a man, clad head to toe in armor.

"Allister...Allister!..." His voice was calm, but commanding...loud, despite the ringing in the ears...but the subtle monotone undertone to his voice was unmistakable...as was the jet black shape of his armor...and the red plume, waving definitely in the air...albeit all now covered in soot....his helmeted head, a familiar sight for those whom knew him, was now turned towards Allister. "...You broken?"

Karl von Stehlen, the awkwardest of people but the stoutest of knights, was stoically yelling asking a question of the young mage.

It was a wonder how he got in?...Though a better question was; why was he here?

 

[Ashara Raja]

Ash knelt among the smoldering rubble, gold eyes snapping back and forth as mages dueled in the courtyard she was skirting. Wards were shattered in this part of the complex, broken by the first few detonations of magical power, guards were few as well. Certainly not interested in stopping a Kaliti girl trying to hide.

Not with mages casting fireballs and explosions at each other.

No, they were busy and she was technically helping. The woman pulled a running girl back against the wall with her suddenly, yanking the student off her feet. It kept the terrified girl from running straight past the confrontation and through the line of fire. Ash didn’t have time to sit with her and make her understand, not if she intended to use this particular opportunity. “Akaûma.” Her voice was a hissed whisper as she jabbed her hand at the girl’s face. Almost instantly her muscles relaxed and she grew docile, light briefly flashing over her features. “Sneak around the sides and out. Go.” Ash ordered, releasing the student to continue edging past the combatants.

It was getting extremely chaotic, but it would not be long before the college and the city got things back under control. <Time to go.> Ash stole around the courtyard, trying to put a building between herself and the mage’s duel going on before continuing towards what she assumed would be the building possessing the library and all the magical books.

<Not only are they worth more than a pretty penny, but I could use em too. Really it's a public service, making the college's books available to the public.> Eyes cast this way and that, searching until she came upon an open window. On the second floor, but still. It was open, shattered by the explosions. Ash took a short start and stepped off the wall, launching herself upwards, grasping the window sill with her hand. Broken glass cut into her fingers, slicing through the delicate skin, crimson liquid seeping out and onto the stones. The girl gritted her teeth and continued pulling herself upwards and through the opening, falling to her stomach on the cold stone floor.

<At least I’m inside now.>

 

[Alistair Wren]

The marble archway that lead to the courtyard cracked under the impact of Alistair's blast. He flew backwards, then crashed into a pile of rubble. The dust split, giving way to flames left behind by the explosion. Pain shot through Alistair's back, but nothing was broken, and he was able to pull himself to his feet. He scrambled on the rubble and stood, then ran across the courtyard to where Maho was standing. He arrived just in time to hear him utter a phrase, a final threat before he destroyed the college.

"Master, you've been brainwashed!" Alistair shouted above the flames. "Don't believe what Gerra told you!"

The words fell on deaf ears as Sparhawk drew the remaining fire in the college to him, encompassing it into his form.

Not knowing what he was planning, Alistair stepped backwards, drawing moisture from the air as he did so. As Sparhawk drew the fire to him, the temperature of the air began to cool, and the flames surrounding Alistair and himself disappeared.

Then, Sparhawk projected the fire forward in a blazing inferno.

Alistair threw up his hands, his index and middle fingers crossed over, and cast a torrent of water which coursed straight into Maho's spear of fire. Slowly, Alistair stepped to the side, maintaining his hold on the spell as he directed the water. Steam belched from the collision as water hit fire, a thick mist filling the hall. Alistair held the spell. Swerving around, he projected the water into Maho's spear, sweat pouring off his forehead as he spent the fluid in his body.

He put out the fire, but could hold the spell no more. Nauseous, his mouth dry, he lunged his hand forward and sent the wall of water crashing over Sparhawk.

Releasing his hold of the spell, he fell backwards with the impact, and looked up to see a man riding a horse into the college. Two men with crossbows aimed for Alistair and Spencer, and Alistair cried out. He grabbed Spencer and leaped to the ground to shield her from the blows of the crossbows, just as the man on the horse blocked their aim. He squinted, and recognized the man as the Knight who had helped him on a quest in the Iuk-'u Delta.

"Karl!" He called out.

Alistair let go of Spencer and stood. He coughed and sputtered, dehydrated and nausous from the effects of his magic, "I'm fine, I'm fine."

 

[Smiling One]

Shields were always cumbersome to Willis, he was a strong a person but in combat he preferred speed to dance around his opponents. It was the tactic that Captain Davis taught him back when Willis was a Pirate, "dance around your foes!" he would say while the two of them sparred on deck. Captain Davis pointing his Cutlass at Willis' throat thrusting, probing at him while Willis barely had time to dodge. Captain Davis had a reputation of being a fast duelist to where he claimed he was nicknamed: "Lightning Lad".

Captain Davis described combat like a dance that in order to beat your enemy they must adopt to your tune. Willis adjusted this style over the years and while his swordplay wasn't as refined compared to a knight, he can pull some dirty tricks to keep his opponent guessing. A kick to the groin, a poke to the eye whatever it took. There's no such thing as a "clean" fight the only that matters is surviving you want to fight pretty? or do you want to win? For Willis and the rest of the pirates, that answer was easy.

But since his opponent is a maelstrom of magical monstrosity it was best to have some magical immunity. The College has been working on magical resistant armor for the Elbion army for the past year and there was suspicion amongst Maesters that the nobility would use that technology against them. As Willis and Philippa conversed before, there has always been tension between the College of Elbion and the Nobles mostly due to power struggles. The Merchants Guild thankfully gave assured that the development of magical resistant items will be for the good of Elbion.

"Looks like it's coming to good use huh?" The shield continued to bounce off Willis back causing the young man to grind his teeth in pain. He didn't fasten the braces tight enough around his shoulders. Willis adjusted the shield to fit more comfortably around him, there wasn't time Willis saw flashes of flames along with a scream of: "Master!" and "Karl!" that shrill voice…..

"Alistair!" Willis ran fast as he could the fight was taking place in the courtyard? Fitting, Willis had some plenty of room to maneuver that is if the courtyard wasn't reduced to a giant hole in the ground.

After a few minutes, Willis arrived at the burning courtyard, Alistair, Spencer and Willis' old friend: Karl Von Stephen was facing the masked man. The person whom Willis fought with back in the Savnanah. "JERIK!" Willis yelled drawing his Cutlass his free hand reaching for one of the scrolls in his little black bag. "Have you gone insane?! What you're doing is an act of war! Stand down!"

Trying to convince a murder addicted person to stand down was like trying to convince an alcoholic not to drink. Futile and a waste at least the alcoholic can be fun to with especially at feasts. "Is this what Gerra wants!" Willis growled. "I thought this person wanted peace! Or was that more bullshit coming out from his mouth!"

Willis motioned Alistair and the others to escape, the young man's heart continued to pound loudly. His muscles began to tense up. It was crazy facing a man who can set a town on fire with a snap of his finger. Willis has seen what Jerik is capable of and yet here he was stupid enough to face him. "I've done stupider things," Willis thought.

 

[Kara Orin]

Since Kara joined the College of Elbion a year ago, she spent most of her time there reading as many books within the library as possible. She apparently spent the bare minimum amount of time in lecture to maintain her scholarship.

Yet in the time before Jerik’s attack on the College, Kara sat in her dorm room. A box somewhat longer than her torso. Then, the first explosion in Jerik’s attack shook the dormitories.

FWOOSH

Kara opened the box in that instant and pulled a sheathed longsword from it. It was something she commissioned and received in the time between this and the festival with the Dreadlord Apprentices. She pulled the sword slightly out of the scabbard. Runes adorned both the hilt and exposed blade.

After examining the sword, the mage apprentice fully sheathed it once more and strapped it to her belt. She could hear screaming and rumbling outside her room.

As Kara exited the room, she cautiously moved about whereas most of her peers dashed to any and all exits or possible shelter. She continuously scanned her surroundings with a hand on the hilt of her sword.

Then, Kara found one of the things she was looking for: an injured student sitting against the stone wall of the hallway. She approached the student – a young-looking elven woman with earthen hair.

As soon as she realized that, Kara stopped and looked around once more. Then, she knelt and examined at the elf’s injuries. Kara saw burn marks along the right side of the elf’s face and her forearms.

“Can you hear me?” Kara asked.

The elf nodded with a weakened moan.

With that, Kara took the elf’s arm and helped her up. She supported her peer’s weight and began to move down the hall.

“Let’s go, I know a safe place,” Kara told the elf.