Fable - Ask The Canal

[Kristen Pirian]

Kristen yelped, more out of sheer surprise than anything else, when Kalix shoved the elf woman off of her. The woman flew back, her legs lacking the strength and coordination to even so much as stumble briefly, and she collapsed roughly onto her back, writhing and in a choked voice repeating the word that Alistair had understood.

Kristen turned her attention from the heap of an elf to Kalix, her eyes wide with mixed shock and befuddlement. She stiffened as he explained, and then a brief cold chill ran down her neck and the flesh of her arms and settled uneasily into her gut. By Aionus, it was horrible. Horrible...but right. Kalix was right. The Fellowship had hidden within the crowd in Elyr'Adith Square. Could they be here too?

"R-Right. I'm sorry."

With a shaky hand, Kristen drew her mace from her belt. The shakes didn't last long though, and soon they degraded into merely a mild tremor.

They entered the home. And they saw what Raf saw.

Kristen clapped her free hand to her mouth. To her it never seemed to get any easier, seeing blood, seeing death. There were moments in which she was blind to it, yes, moments in which the grisly sights affected her not. Rare and extraordinary moments. But would the day come when such moments were no longer rare nor extraordinary? When she was inured to it?

"This is pure barbarism..." she said breathlessly.

Finally, Alistair's words were able to register. She didn't question why he might have asked that. Simply put the context of the elven woman and his question together and assumed.

"We should look," she said. Then, after a quick, almost reflexive, glance to Kalix, she said, "But we must be careful."

She raised up her mace, held it at the ready, and stepped further into the home. A fairly sized house it was, conical in shape in a particularly elven style, where the second floor was smaller than the first and the third smaller than the second. The common room was drenched in the blood and death, the home had been looted like all the others, but...the boy still could be hiding somewhere.

If he was not also now like...

Kristen refused to finish that thought. He would be here. Alive. And if they could earn the elven woman's trust, Lord Banick could bring forth his translator, and they might learn what truly happened here in Elyr'Morath.

Not wanting to leave Alistair and Kalix by themselves, Kristen looked to the former and said, "Upstairs," gesturing her head toward a spiraling staircase and making to head that way.

Raf Kalix Alistair Krixus

 

[Raf]

Hearing his name seemed to snap him out of the strange trance. That hollowness within him suddenly expanding and wrapping around him as he remembered not to care. Remembered that such feelings had been beaten out of him.

Mouth fell open to speak, but before he could answer Alistair the man...the thing in front of him suddenly moved.

It lashed out, not like you'd expect any brute to. There was a flash, a flicker of runes across it's palm. From the things hand a bolt shot outward, ripping through the room and injecting ozone into the air. An instant flickered by, a heartbeat.

Then suddenly Raf mimicked exactly how the man had moved.

His hand extended outward, shot up, those same strange runes rushing over his hand as a bolt shot outward from his palm.

The other man's eyebrows shot up in confusion. His ears, looking as though they had been cut at the tip, seeming to pull back as surprise colored his expression. He shouted something in a language Raf didn't understand, calling to someone.

Upstairs, as Kristen stepped, she would hear the fall of boots. Three pairs answering the call and lured by the racket of magic below.

 

[Kalix]

Kalix looked around, watched Kristen and Alistair go up the stairs.

What was this about a boy?

His gold eyes narrowed, dark brows resting heavy over his eyes. There was something in his gut telling him that they shouldn’t be splitting up, not right now, not yet. Whoever the perpetrators were, they had no idea. It’s not like they were going to come out of hiding and greet them— and right now, the ones who stood out more than anything was Banick’s small force and the intiates. Human. Armor. And unscathed by the horrors that had happened in Elyr'Morath.

Kalix didn’t notice the corpse seemingly come to life, half turned away from the man and Raf. He didn’t notice until he heard the shooting of the bolts. Pivoting on his heel, his black ponytail whipping behind him as he raised up his pernach to strike whatever he could— only to see Raf and the elven man reaching out towards one another with their hands.

An enemy! Finally! Kalix took a step forward, ready to bash a head in and—

The arcane bolts weren’t normal. They ricocheted off the wooden walls and ceiling and floor, instead of one now there was two. And one had sizzled it’s way into Kalix’s thigh, burning straight through the heavy metal and leaving a nice clean hole. With a grunt, Kalix side stepped, moving away from Raf and the elf, narrowly dodging the second bolt, cursing under his breath.

Alistair Krixus Kristen Pirian Raf

 

[Alistair Krixus]

Shit!

Alistair hurried into the building as he heard the runes go off and the battle begin. As soon as he stepped into the room, his runes lit up as he inspected the room. Raf was fighting that...thing and Kalix was getting his leg nearly shot off.

He fell to the floor just in time as another one of those magical bolts flew over his head. The scent of ozone let him know that if that would have come into contact with his head then it would be gone right now.

With Kalix and Raf accounted for, that left one person. Where was Kristen? She had to be up the stairs, so Alistair hurried off to meet up with her.

"I'm going to help Kristen."

As he ran up the stairs, his own footsteps seemed too loud and numerous. That's when he realized their were more than his own.

Thankfully he spotted Kristen up ahead just as three figures appeared at the top of the stairs. Alistair wasted no time as sent two of his own arcane bolts out to meet the newcomers. The time for hesitation was gone. He would hit now and ask questions now. Besides, the bolts shouldn't kill them...probably.

Kalix Raf Kristen Pirian

 

[Kristen Pirian]

One thing Kristen still marveled at (and would certainly take her a while yet to get used to) was the strange dilation of time in both peril and combat. It was as if Aionus himself bestowed a blessing and a curse in equal measure, slowing down time as well as speeding it up. If ever she had to explain it to someone who had never experienced it, she felt as though even her own extensive vocabulary would be insufficient.

The corpse came alive. Shot arcane bolts which hissed furiously in the air.

Raf countered. Mimicking the Risen creature's own magic.

Kalix took a hit and she heard him grunt in pain and she became acutely aware of both Alistair's footsteps behind her on the spiraling staircase and a triplet of unknown bootfalls at the top landing:

More Risen creatures. Mangled horrors like the one downstairs. Animated through some foul magic, mayhap, or some other unspeakable rite.

Kristen threw herself against the curving wall of the staircase, making room for Alistair's bolts to sail past her and pelt the first Risen. It stumbled back, and the two other Risen shambling down the stairs to meet her and Alistair. Their hands raised—

"Blessed—!"

Kristen all but hurled herself down the staircase, arcane bolts from the Risen striking the wall where she once was and scraping a trench through one of her pauldrons. She, of course, went crashing into Alistair on the way and together they tumbled. Her face and body were beaten up by the unforgiving stairs, but at least they weren't vaporized by arcane magic.

Down on her back at the bottom landing, rejoined somewhat with Raf and Kalix, Kristen shouted frantically, "Two coming down! Two coming down!"

And they were. Hands raised.

Kristen spoke her recitation as if her life depended on it...because it did. An Ashen Crucifix materialized violently before her, bursting into being just in time to shield herself and Alistair with its horizontal beam from another volley of arcane bolts form above. The arms of the Crucifix splintered and shattered from the magic, dropping to the ground with heavy thuds each.

Raf Kalix Alistair Krixus

 

[Raf]

Raf was entirely focused upon the arcane bolts that surged through the air.

Vaguely, just at the edge of his senses he heard a yelp. A cry of pain likely jumping from one of the bolts victims. Yet he couldn't pull his eyes away. The moment that his gaze slipped away so would the magic. So he focused, stared at the other man with an intensity that most of his peers had never seen.

The bolts clashed in the air, the man spoke again in that odd tongue. His hand suddenly flickered back, drawing away and turning. Another sigil appeared around his wrist, flickering upward and then suddenly erupting in a flow of fire.

Raf yelped.

This time he bounded to the side, crashing to the floor with an echoing thud as a string of flame lashed where he had just been standing.

Panic flickered over his features, and then suddenly he saw Kalix. "Keep him in one place!"

He begged of the other Initiate as the man once again turned. The same sigil of flame appeared around his wrist, but this time Raf managed to mimic the magic once more. A lash of flame ruptured from the man's fingertips, met with its exact copy but a breath later.

 

[Kalix]

“Fuckin’… stupid… ugly….” Kalix strung together more unsavory words together until he felt it was suitable enough. “Fat… empire-loving…. Whores.” There. His thigh ached, radiating white-hot waves of pain that he felt not just from his torn muscle but also his bone. A pain that Kalix wasn’t necessarily unaccustomed to but one that he couldn’t quite enjoy.

Adrenaline was pumping through his veins, dulling some of that pain, but Kalix looked around with watery eyes. Hearing Kristen warning them of two more coming down here. Gritting his teeth, the initiate side stepped away from any other incoming attacks, bending down low to pick up a few rocks from the debris. He looked over as Raf called him to attention.

Keep him in place? Easy peasy. Like Kalix himself was!

Raising up a hand, in half a second, the perpetrator was struggling against gravity, on his hands and knees, trying to stand up but failing to do so. Kalix increased it, ever so slightly, and then the man was flat on his face, groaning. If Kalix increased it further then the man’s lungs would collapse, so pressured by that one spot thanks to one dark-haired initiate.

Of course, the issue was that now Kalix was stationary, if he were to maintain this level of concentration then he couldn’t move around much, making him a sitting duck.

Alistair Krixus Kristen Pirian Raf

 

[Alistair Krixus]

"What the fu-"

He did not have much time to react as Kristen launched herself down the stairs. She slammed into him and together they went rolling down the stairs. He felt his head hit hard, and there would certainly be some bruises for later. The only good thing that came out of it was that their descent had let them avoid the arcane bolts.

When they two finally stopped at the bottom of the stairs, Alistair's ears were ringing and his head was a jumble from smacking it so hard against the stairs. His body forced itself to his knees, but he wasn't quick enough or aware enough to dodge the bolts coming at them. Thankfully, Kristen was as a crucifix rose to block the incoming projectiles.

That little moment gave Alistair time to try and re-center himself. He staggered to his feet and drew his sword. He was still dizzy, but it would have to do for a moment until the others could. He managed to force it out through stumbled words.

"Thanks...I got 'em."

That was all he could get out as he tripped forward to meet the incoming monstrosities with his blade. For all his confusion, some things were natural after spending enough time practicing them. That was his swordsmanship. It was also the only reason he did not get struck down as soon as he entered their range.

Alistair was managing to keep them busy, and with every second his head became more clear and his movement just a bit cleaner.

Kristen Pirian Raf Kalix

 

[Kristen Pirian]

What were these things? Where did they come from and why were they here? Was the boy okay?

No time for any of these questions, even if they clawed at the back of Kristen's mind, persistent for answers and heedless of the peril that she and her peers were in.

The Risen in the common room had more varieties of magic at its disposal yet. Harsh orange light seared the room as the string of flames flew from both the Risen and Raf. Alistair threw himself into a melee against the first of the Risen coming down the stairs. Kalix, at Raf's prompting, brought the weight of Arethil down on the Common Room Risen.

The second Risen coming down the stairs, blocked from engaging Alistair, instead looked over the banister. Eyed Kalix standing stationary. Raised its grotesque arm and extended its palm over the banister and aimed.

Kristen gasped, scrambling back up to her feet as she recited her verse.

Another Ashen Crucifix burst into being, its conjured wood catching an Arcane Bolt. Another. The Crucifix was quickly blown apart and it disintegrated nearly as quick as it had been conjured.

But Kristen had run forward in the meantime. As the Risen was primed to loose another Bolt, she jumped up high and swung her mace and smacked the creature's outstretched arm. There came a crack as the weapon and the banister itself broke bone within; the magic fizzled and dispersed from its palm. A dull groan escaped the Risen's malformed mouth, as if the creature only faintly understood what happened.

Kristen, such was her haste, ungracefully came down from her jump, toppling into a table and sprawling over it. Her foot caught the edge of the table and it flipped over onto its side as she crashed down with a yelp.

Raf Kalix Alistair Krixus

 

[Raf]

The weight of gravity lashed down onto the hulking creature. His lips turning to a scowl and a struggled groan escaping from his throat. He half turned towards Raf, as if trying to understand the magic, then spotted Kalix.

Rage flickered over his features.

The man’s attention turned, his hand reaching up into the air. A strange flicker of light blossomed within his palm. His breath folding out in a sheen of fog as he suddenly moved to lash out towards the other Initiate.

Before his hand could whip forward, Raf was upon him.

This time he did not use his mimicry, instead he dashed forward with staff at the ready. Heavy steel smashed down into the man’s forearm, a crack of bone echoing out as he snapped the man’s arm.

The hulk bellowed out with a bite of rage, stumbling back and clutching his forearm. Raf turned his staff down, and then smashed it’s butt against the man’s knee. Another crunch ringing out as he stumbled and fell down onto the floor. ”Crush him.”

Raf bit out at Kalix.

 

[Kalix]

Crush him.

There was a moment of hesitation, as could be seen by the split second that Kalix paused from hearing RAF’s words. It was strange, really, to be hearing such a thing from Raf. Mostly because Raf hardly seemed like the person to resort to something like this so readily. Also slightly from the flicker of an idea that keeping one alive could be beneficial to the team.

The thing with Kalix though was that you’d never have to ask him twice to kill someone. And with KP crashing into a table and Alistair trying to steal the show with his swordsmanship, there was no more time for Kalix to think longer than that half second. So Kalix raised up his fist, staring hard at the culprit that had shot that beam of mana straight through his thigh.

There was no scream, no cry of anguish. And how could he cry out in agony? His lungs were flat, a solid crunching could be heard as Kalix did crush him, quite literally. Within the next second there was a pop and squelch and then the man was flatten completely, a spray of red blood shooting all around in a perfect arc, splattering anything on the bottom floor in speckled crimson.

Finally. He could move now. Through the pain, he could indeed move and turned his head, seeing Kristen on the ground and then looking up at the stairs.

 

[Alistair Krixus]

Alistair was really glad that Kristen moved off to help the others, because he could only look impressive for so long. While he was getting his senses back and his battle with the creature continued, the thing had managed to land a couple of hits.

As soon as Kristen was off doing her own thing, Alistair could admit it to himself. He was in pain. He could feel a wound bleeding beneath his shirt. A rib might even be cracked judging from the struggle that Alistair faced in his breathing.

In the middle of his duel, he heard the squish and pop of something followed by a splatter of liquid and chunks on his back. Man, he hoped that wasn't one of his people. The sudden force of the slop caused Alistair to stumble long enough for the thing to rear back and slam his fist into the dreadlord's chest. Although the man's skin was bubbling and even melting on his body, it possessed an incredible amount of strength.

Alistair felt another crack in his ribs before he was sent flying into a wall. The beast rushed to him to finish the job, but was sent flying backward as Alistair's gloved hand raised up, and a rune of force shot out from it and slammed into the charging body.

Al coughed out a glob of blood onto his shirt before he groaned out. "A little help."

Kristen Pirian Raf Kalix

 

[Kristen Pirian]

For once, Kristen wasn't acutely concerned with how much of a klutz she must have looked like. Even when she got back up to her feet and tripped over one of the now sideways table legs and went stumbling back down onto her bottom again, she wasn't concerned with her lack of grace and dignity.

No, she was concerned for Alistair. Raf and Kalix, from flash glimpses their way and matching grotesque sounds, seemed to be alright, their foe quite literally crushed to death.

"Alis—!"

The forward Risen had been blown back by the rune of force, but the second one on the stairs raised its unbroken arm and leveled out a hand, taking aim on Alistair now that its forward comrade had been sent flying back and crashing down.

Kristen recited quickly, and a single Withering Chain descended down like a tendril of some enraged eldritch creature and flung itself around the Risen's neck. Up towards the ceiling whence it came the Chain yanked, lifting the Risen off of its feet and throwing its aim askew, the Arcane Bolt launched from its hand hitting the wall above the crook of Alistair's shoulder and neck.

The Risen's legs dangled, heels occasionally bashing the edges of the stairs of the spiral staircase, the creature being hanged as the Chain constricted tighter and tighter, matching the white-knuckled fist Kristen was making with intense concentration.

Raf Kalix Alistair Krixus

 

[Raf]

A loud snap suddenly rang up just as Raf stepped forward to finish the creature Kristen was dragging up the airs.

The sound echoed out before he could take another step however, and the creatures neck was suddenly depressed and torn away by the ethereal chains holding it's throat. A last gurgling cry echoed from the monsters lips, and then suddenly it collapsed into a ragged doll.

Raf's chest rose and fell, his head turning.

Alistair was half on the ground, Kalix was wholly so. "What."

For the first time in a long time. For the first time in an age, Raf's voice had none of the soft delirium it usually carried. Instead there was a mix of panic and anger, confusion. He looked at his fellow Initiates, expression weary.

"The fuck." He finished, his chest sagging. Steps quickly taken towards Kalix to make sure he was still alive.

 

[Kalix]

Kalix looked around the room. Alistair and Kristen had held their own— actually the two of them had handled more of those… things better than Raf and Kalix had. Without missing a beat, Kalix removed the plate of armor on his thigh, sucking in air through his teeth as he examined his wound. He held up a hand to Raf.

It was clean, thank goodness, with no traces of the metal going through, or at least as much as he could tell. His pants were quickly soaking up with blood and Kalix unceremoniously ripped the fabric away.

Hardly one who dabbled much in radiant or divine magic, he did remember the only healing spell he had ever bothered to actually put effort in memorizing. Not because it was efficient, but because it was easy. A few simple words, focus on the wound in question and boom! Slowly but surely, Kalix could feel his quad begin to weave itself back together… excruciatingly slow.

Kalix huffed, gritting his teeth, doing his best to deal with that strange searing pain that he’d never get used to.

“I’m fine.” Kalix growled out, staring hard at his thigh. It would, at best, take an hour to heal. Most likely it’d be many hours to heal right. And they didn’t have that time. Kalix looked around the room, and walked over to the table that KP had flipped over and picked up the dull tablecloth, making strips, Kalix bandaged up his leg, tying a messy yet firm knot to hold it all together.

“Right. Let’s head upstairs.” Kalix said, picking his pernach back in his hand and strutting off towards the stairs. “We stay together. Guard up, eyes peeled, all that good shit. I’m in the lead.” He said as he took the first step upstairs.

 

[Alistair Krixus]

Alistair was still sitting with his back to the wall. He couldn't move. His body was telling him that if he moved right now, then his ribs would voice their own displeasure.

"Sure, I'm fine. Don't worry about me." He grumbled sarcastically.

A set of runes start to glow across his body as they did their best to heal the wounds. The runes were a stopgap at best. They would let him keep fighting, but at some point, the magic would wear off and painful bruises would remain to remind him of his stupidity. Oh yeah, these bruises were going to be huge.

After a moment, Al struggled to his feet as he took deep breaths to try and make sure he could still move without the pain. His eyes looked over the other three, and they seemed good enough. None were dying, hell Kalix was already moving on.

Alistair's eyes rested on Raf's for just a second longer than the others, like he was trying to determine something. In Al's opinion, the injuries that he and Kalix had sustained, had not needed to happen. They could have gone about all of this slower, more meticulously, and with Bannick's men. Instead, Raf had run in without any discussion. For what, to ensure the safety of some elves?

While the young dreadlord was not against helping the elves, as opposed to many others in Vel Anir. He was opposed to helping them while pointlessly endangering the team. The elves weren't even subjects of Vel Anir proper...yet.

Still, those were topics that they could discuss later. After all of this, or when they had to turn in their reports for the mission. For now, he would ignore the dull pain in his chest and move into file with Kalix at the head.

Kristen Pirian Kalix Raf

 

[Kristen Pirian]

The head rolled off and fell separately from the body of the monster, both thumping loudly down the stairs until each in their own time and in their own place came to rest. The Withering Chain, still fashioned as a noose, hung there from the ceiling above the staircase, swaying.

Kristen stood where she stood, her fist still clenched and her knuckles still white. She was shocked...but not as shocked as she might have been. It wasn't her first sight of gore nor was it her first taste of violence wrought by her own hand.

At last she relaxed her hand. Let it fall to her side. A shuddering breath whispered from her lips.

She took stock of her fellow Initiates, her own face a touch ashen. Raf seemed thrown into another world, Kalix was gruffly tending to himself, and Alistair looked to be in sore shape. Certainly he and Kalix had gotten the worst of it. Kristen had suffered only a series of bumps to the head whilst tumbling down the stairs and a fall to the floor over the top of the table. She would have to give thanks to Aionus tonight, and to beseech Him to look over her peers as well—especially so once the final stop of Alys Seranine was in sight.

Alistair's sarcasm was lost on Kristen, at least in the immediate aftermath of so kinetic an encounter. She looked across the gap of the common room to him and started to say, "Will you be—?"

Kalix, however, took charge. Loudly. And it wasn't without warrant. The boy, presumably, hopefully, was still in here. And Kristen still believed that if they could do this one good thing for the elven woman, they could then rely on her to tell them the truth of what happened in Elyr'Morath.

She filed in behind Alistair, and up the the spiral staircase they went.

The second floor was indeed smaller than the first. Ransacked like the ground level, though with less grisly décor, the room was yet a mess. Wild orange firelight and the roar of flames came spilling in through broken windows.

Strewn on the floor near the landing of the stairs, the Risen that Alistair had shot earlier with his own bolts of magic. It wasn't quite dead, and it fidgeted and spasmed, making a feeble but determined effort to stand.

Raf Kalix Alistair Krixus

 

[Raf]

Raf wanted to ask a dozen questions, wanted to know what the fuck they had just stumbled upon and why it was there.

Before he could offer a single syllable though Kalix took charge.

His voice was devoid of the usual bluster, and the firmness of his tone made the others fall into line without much of a second guess. Raf was no different. His back stiffened, and he nodded slightly as the others filed up the staircase.

A frown flickered over his features for a moment, his eyes catching on the buckled creature upon the floor.

Kalix's magic had all but crushed it into pulp, it's figure deformed and dismembered under the pressure of gravity. He watched it for a moment, as though expecting the thing to jump up, then slowly he stepped after the others.

As they reached the second floor they were greeted with the strange monsters already splayed out. The work of his fellow Initiates.

One of them seemed to squirm, spasming upon the ground. Raf reached out with the tip of his staff, poking the beast in the side with a frown. "What...are these things?"

He asked quietly. Wondering if the others had any more understanding than he.

 

[Kalix]

“Who.” Kalix stomped over to that struggling risen. “The.” Another large step. “Fuck.” And another. “Cares?” Kalix took another step, his armored foot poised above the risen’s head for an extra second. Magic, focus, gravity. When his foot struck the risen, the creature would be force down, the wood giving way and breaking apart. A large gaping hole, with Kalix peering down it to make sure that the risen wasn’t moving. Good. But even better.

A shocked gasp. Whisper soft like the faintest breeze.

Even someone as dull as Kalix had picked it up, and he quickly angled his head to what appeared to be a massive chest. Strangely enough, it was already open, clothing strewn from it. Confused, Kalix stormed over to it, further pulling out more fabric from it. There was nothing at the bottom. He blinked his gold eyes, confused.

“There’s nothing here.” He informed the others.

Kristen Pirian Alistair Krixus Raf

 

[Alistair Krixus]

Well, Alistair might care a little. Taking a look at these things would give him a better idea of how to kill them later, but he could always look at the one hanging downstairs.

The gasp took Alistair by surprise, but his glowed with a faint blue energy as he turned to look at the chest. He already had a hopeful idea of what it might be, but his eyes seemed to confirm it.

Alistair stepped over and just motioned for Kalix to step back. His hands followed some trail that only Alistair seemed to be looking at. It led to the side of the chest and with a faint click, the bottom of the chest seemed to shimmer and then fade, revealing a young and terrified elf boy.

The child was obviously afraid, but his eyes were fearfully locked onto Kalix's having just seen and heard what he had done to the creature.

Al knelt down by the chest and spoke in his best calming elvish "It's ok, child. Mother is outside." It wasn't the most sophisticated and charming of speech, but it was the best Alistair had at the moment. Maybe when he got back, it might be worth it to study more of the elven language.

Kristen Pirian Raf Kalix

 

[Kristen Pirian]

Kalix finished off (what was hopefully) the last of those Risen abominations with a thunderous series of stomps. Kristen's lip curled at the grisly sound of bones snapping and wet muscles being crushed, but ultimately she was relieved that the thing was dead.

She kept a look out, particularly on the other spiral staircase leading up to the third floor, for any more of the creatures, but things inside the elven home were quiet.

A moment later, however, Alistair found something far more important.

The boy. Kristen heard Alistair speaking in Elvish and though she knew not what he said she knew it could only mean one thing, and so she had hurried over to the chest. And when she laid eyes on the terrified child it mattered not that he was an elf; it couldn't possibly have mattered, even if all of Vel Anir's wars with Falwood had been a hundredfold more bloody than they were. What mattered was that he was a child, not the blood that coursed through his veins nor the shape of his ears. He was small, innocent, and terrified, and Kristen's heart ached for him.

She held out her arms slowly, carefully, and spoke as soothingly as she could in Common (lamenting that she did not know Elvish as Alistair did), "You are safe, okay? We're not going to hurt you. Everything is alright."

The boy looked from Alistair to Kristen, and in his eyes was the particular kind of horror which manifested only in young eyes that had seen far too much.

"It's okay," she said. Her fingers just barely touched his shoulders then. "It's okay."

Whether by delicate and carefully employed empathy or some innate grace of womanhood, Kristen managed to get through to the boy. He all but leaped up with a fierce need and clung to her, crying into her chest. She picked him up, lifting him out of the trunk and holding him with both arms.

Shifting eyes went to Raf, to Kalix, to Alistair. Kristen was a bit surprised and awkward about it at first, the boy in her arms, but she settled quickly and comfortably into it. The maternal air made her seem older than she truly was.

"We should depart from here."

Raf Kalix Alistair Krixus

 

[Raf]

Raf slowly tilted his head in a nod.

His eyes lingered on the corpse within the room for a minute longer, lips thinning as though he were about to say something. Then slowly he shook his head and motioned for the others.

A thousand questions swirled in his head. What had those things been? Where had the man from downstairs come from? What in the fuck had happened in this city? Mysteries and threads seemed to sprawl all around them. Questions that needed answers.

None of which the Initiates had found.

Raf kept himself quiet as he moved down the stairs once more, clearing the way for Kristen and the boy. His head turned on a swivel, glancing quickly left and right as he searched for anything that might be a threat.

When he found nothing he moved not towards the front door where they would pass by the pulp of the sorcerer, but rather through the backdoor where the child would see less gore. Every step carried with it a measure of tension, of tightness.

As though he was utterly unsure of everything going on. "I don't like this."

He muttered to himself as they cleared the building.

 

[Kalix]

Kalix gave Alistair and glowering side-eye. Jealousy, the seeds that had been planted within the fertile soil of anger, had sprouted long ago. Their growth was a twisted one, something that could never truly be unraveled and able to say where it started from. Of course, Kalix was hardly inward enough to even think about looking at the nursery of hate within his heart.

Because all he could think right now was how much of a show off Alistair was. How the hell he figured out the puzzle to get the boy from a empty chest was beyond Kalix, and the initiate absolutely hated it. Worse that he hadn’t figure it out but worst yet was the fact that he still couldn’t figure out how it had been done, even when he watched everything.

Stewing in his negativity and thoughts, Kalix barely cared when the elven woman From before ran up to the group. Kalix had followed from behind and watched with disinterest as the distraught woman laughed and cried at the same time, running to Kristen with reaching hands.

She embraced her son, but instead of pulling away from Kristen— which pissed off Kalix because you would have thought she would have learned her lesson from the first time which meant kalix wasn’t mean enough— she was leaning upon the noble initiate for support. Beneath the cries and tears of joy from both the mother and the son, whispers were soon dispersed between the elves.

The boy came into his mother’s arms and the elven woman took two steps back, looking at all the initiates.

“Thank you.” She said very slowly in common, enunciating each syllable with care, although it hardly sounded like how any human would say the word. She made it sound too pretty, too ethereal. Or perhaps it was too genuine, unblemished by sarcasm or duty. But it was evident, the woman was trying to think, trying to string together another common phrase, but was coming up blank. The elven boy whispered up to his mother and immediately her gaze landed on Alistair.

“You can speak a bit of elvish?” She asked Alistair in her native tongue.

“This is stupid, such a waste of time,” Kalix said to Raf.

Alistair Krixus Kristen Pirian Raf

 

[Alistair Krixus]

Like most situations involving the cat-like dreadlord, Alistair was completely oblivious to Kalix's anger. There were just certain parts of assignments that others would be better suited for. Kalix and Raf had combat abilities, Kristen was the support to end all support and apparently a solid motherly figure. Alistair, well...he could be good at the technical stuff. He hoped he was good at it, otherwise, he was just blowing smoke up his own ass.

He was just about to suggest going and finding the mother when she went and did that for them. Being around such heavy emotions always caused Alistair to retreat to his more stoic and neutral demeanor. It just helped to avoid the awkwardness that was all the blubbering going on.

Alistair saw the way the mother and the boy both relied on Kristen for support, and he was glad that their was someone here to do that part of the job. They did not have to do this, but hopefully, their act of goodwill would prove useful in the future.

"Oh, yes. Just a little." Alistair replied in heavily accented elvish.

Raf Kalix Kristen Pirian

 

[Kristen Pirian]

Raf spoke aloud what was likely on each of their minds (Kristen even going so far as to not doubt this of Kalix as well). The fires burning in the low light of evening from the distance were enough to spike the wariness of anyone, but after having gone inside this house? After having fought against those...misshapen things? It was terrible degrading into horrible, and her mind shuddered at the possibility that it might somehow get worse.

But at least they had found the boy. Small miracles, and the look on the elven mother's face erased in that moment everything Kristen knew of the history of wars between Anirians and the elves of Falwood. The primeval and immutable love of a mother for her child took quiet and confident precedence over stale recollections of past events and their associated numbers.

She could speak Common but, by the sound of it, not a lot. Alistair was their link here.

"Could you ask her what happened here? Who wrought such woe upon Elyr'Morath?"

And when Alistair did, the elven woman was all too eager to tell. Her legs quaked and Kristen had to actively help to keep her standing, to even help her hold her own small son, such was the weakness from starvation that had taken hold of her. Elvish, normally an elegant and beautiful language, would turn twisted and haunted, even perhaps to Alistair's journeyman ears, as she recounted what she knew, what tale of the tragedy was hers to tell.

Revenge. It was a mercenary company, the Sons of Cortos, returning to Elyr'Morath to exact revenge. They had tried before and had brought great ruin and much death before an elder tiefling and a strange black creature had driven them away, sparing Captain Kaijo's life. But in the interim time, the Captain had apparently been plotting and rebuilding his company's strength (enlisting the aid of foul sorcerers as well in this process). He returned this time and there was no one to stop him. The Sons of Cortos pillaged and plundered for days, brutalizing the people of Elyr'Morath in any way they saw fit—it was mankind at its most depraved, an orgy of dark and perverse fantasies fulfilled over the course of those harrowing days. The Sons of Cortos had at last departed earlier in the day after having set fire to a majority of the town, the nightmare over but its embers and ashes remaining for those that yet lived.

All this she told Alistair. And there was not one mention of the Fellowship.

Raf Kalix Alistair Krixus