Open Chronicles The Lights of the West

[Talus]

A curse echoed from Talus and he quickly followed behind Ven's steps back towards the Inn.

He did not draw his sword like the other Apprentice, mostly because he did not want to become a target for the rush of the crowd that was now pressing against the gate. Chaos broke out fully, people were screaming, yelling, the glowing man lost in the middle of it all.

"COME OUT FROM YOUR HOUSES!"

The voice boomed in Talus' head, the young Apprentice shirking slightly as he muttered an incantation for a mental ward.

Sounds that should have echoed in his skull were lost, but doors began to open on either side of the trio of apprentices. Men and women flooded into the streets, anger and fear crossing their features. They held clubs, batons, some even had swords. "BACK TO THE INN!"

Talus called as he broke into a sprint.

 

[Harry]

Hal did not need a second order. As Talus dashed, Hal was quick to follow. He felt words tug at his consciousness, to which he responded with a warding gesture. Some clarity came to him, enough to keep his senses intact, though he did feel something pervasive toying with the edge of his mind. Strange sensation, that.

It was distracting enough that he felt a collision between him and some woman before he saw her. She had suddenly sprung out from her home and was unlucky enough to be run down by one hundred and eighty pounds of muscle. Hal heard a yelp, glanced at the woman, now curled on the dirt, and looked forward without a second thought. There were some angry screams, though he left those far behind him as the group continued to sprint away.

"This is fucked!" Hal shouted to both Talus and Ven, some spittle flying as he did so.

 

[Mathis Majister Mejeure]

Darla, what a gal, look at that fighting spirit! Like a fine ale waiting under that froth of pensiveness. Wouldn't it just be an utter shame if he was forced to betray her somewhere in the course of this heist? Ah, but a little lick of danger certainly made things more fun, didn't it? Oh she wouldn't like it, Darla, but she'd understand. Majister knew she would.

She'd taken a few steps back toward the mob, Darla had, hands balled into fists. Admirable! But...

"My dear," Majister said, getting a grip on her shoulder and yanking her back, "you've gotten ahead of your--"

Darla wheeled around. Swung at him. Why, if Majister hadn't been sucker-punched a time or two in his life before, he'd've caught that one for sure! A quick jerk of his head straight back and her hook struck nothing but air.

Majister snapped his hands out and took hold of her wrists and held her back against her ferocious struggling. He was keenly aware of the growing crossbow fire and all the rest of those unpleasantries abounding in the crowd and raining down from the Keep.

"Darla, there will be plenty of time to work on that dainty right hook of yours, I assure you! Right now, we'd best--"

"Heathen!" she spat at him. Literally. Some spit landed on his face.

"My, that was awfully un-ladylike of you, Darla. I like you even more than I used to a moment ago, and that's a bold statement indeed if I do say so myself!"

A few other people had the right idea. Getting the hell out of the crowd and proceeding immediately to get the hell away from it. Oh, look there, the silver-haired fox. Well, if the fox and his rugged fellows were bailing, what business did Majister have here? A riotous crowd was a volatile thing, oh yes, best for one to maintain an appreciable distance from. The clever devil of opportunity waited for him elsewhere. Specifically, the Vault.

Run back down the street and meet up with the boys and set out for the Vault? Splendid plan!

And Majister did just that. Started running down the street in the wake of those rough fellows from the tavern and all but dragging Darla along with him. At first, anyway. Poor girl, she seemed to struggling with something that looked to be awfully painful, but at least she became more pliable to running along with him.

"Never to worry, Darla!" Majister called back, juking past a man emerging from his home with a baton who took a wild swing at him. "I've just the thing to cheer you up! Right this way!"

"It's...magic...!" Darla said, eyes pinched shut and then popped wide open.

"I do enjoy a good bout of flattery, go on!"

"No, not--ugh, nevermind!"

Well, the girl had her senses mostly back as they ran. Wonderful! Wouldn't want any unpleasantries to spill outside the Keep and the crowd back there and aforementioned betrayals to happen sooner rather than later (or preferably never), now would we?

 

[Venanin Sen Shiir]

They didn't have to say it twice. Ven had wanted to go back anyway. The apprentice pushed passed people as they began becoming more and more aggressive.

"Cowards." Venanin said with something almost resembling emotion.

Venanin increased pace and pushed farther. The silvered bastard sword only seemed to draw more attention than it deterred. A woman in baker's clothes lept out from an alley and began swinging a roller at the apprentice's head. Ven lowered the sword quickly and let her run herself through on the blade before pushing her off to keep going. Not the enemy that was preferred but it mattered little, and the woman was of little importance anyway.

Venanin took a turn at the next corner and saw a crowd gathering in the street near the Inn. It didn't look good.

"Idiots." Ven sighed.

 

[Talus]

Talus practically slid on his feet as he turned down the corner to head towards the tavern, finding that three men were already standing in his way.

Each of them held a cudgel, though in truth one of them appeared to be more of a chair leg. A curse left the Apprentice's lips, not because the men were any danger to him, but because he'd hoped to avoid any further trouble. "Look I don't want to hu-"

One of the men rushed forward and swung his cudgel.

Talus ducked, and in a quick swipe of his sword cut into his belly. The blade tore through flesh and bone, quickly dancing forward to catch the second man near him in the chest. Blood splattered over the third assailant, and almost as if snapped out of some spell he screamed.

Without a further word the man broke into a sprint down a nearby alleyway.

"This place is going to burn." Talus said as Ven and Hal caught up to him quickly waving the two Apprentices over towards the door of the Inn.

In the distance guardsmen and crowds clashed, a war breaking out in the city streets. Ravings of the Radiant Church echoed in the streets, and as the Apprentices moved to head inside a chant began to rise through the city.

 

[Harry]

Teeth shattered under Hal's knuckles as he struck a man on his mouth. He hadn't drawn his sword but instead decided to use the opportunity to practice a more controlled and subtle application of his magic. Small, thin slabs of ice formed over his knuckles and fingers. The slabs all came to small points, making a surface much sharper and harder than the points of his knuckles. It proved to be quite effective as he could feel bone crunch under every strike. Hal moved much more efficiently than some brawler. He kept a high, compact stance and every movement was swift and deliberate.

A peasant swung a hammer at Hal, one that appeared to be more suited to hammering nails than men. It easily avoided and using the opening, the apprentice delivered a strong punch that landed flat on the man's eye. Bone shattered like ceramic under the strike, the man's orbit breaking completely and the eye crushing under the hard ice. Hal drew his fist back only to deliver another swift jab that flattened the peasant.

Another quickly took the man's place. A peasant lunged, thrusting the points of a pitchfork towards Hal's gut. He swatted the pitchfork's head aside with ease and thrust the sole of his boot right under the man's knee. All of his weight was pushed onto the leg as he had thrust the pitchfork, making it quite easy for Hal to exploit. As foot connected to shin, the knee bent inward at an astonishingly grotesque angle. With a cry, the man bent forward, only to meet one of Hal's rising fists. The strike connected cleanly, which caused the man's head to snap back. He fell forward, unconscious. The display of swift brutality was enough to deter any others that thought of attacking the apprentice.

He turned to his comrades to see them concluding their own quarrels. As Talus waved them towards the door, Hal pushed it open to allow the others entrance first.

"That is yet to be determined," Hal said as Talus passed him to enter.

Hal followed after Ven and released his magic; the ice easily fell from his skin with a few waves of either hand.

 

[Mathis Majister Mejeure]

Following in the wake of those three roughnecks proved to be a gorgeous idea! And they were having quite the go of it, weren't they? Skewering fiendish women armed with rolling pins and slicing through trios of unsavory madmen and punching the teeth out of saps brandishing fearsome hammers and pitchforks. Why, those roughnecks scarcely left any for Majister and Darla, and that suited Majister just fine. All dandy and swell. Wouldn't want to get all tuckered out before the big reveal in the Vault, now would he?

So Majister and Darla tailed after them, those three. Not so close such that they might get drawn into their squabbles, no, but not so far behind that they need worry about the tide of manic religious violence crashing back into their shores.

Those three ducked back inside the inn, the very same all of them--as a matter of fact--had left not so many moments before. Majister had no intention to go back in himself, oh no, out here was the grand opportunity he'd sought. With ruffians running amok and the guards henceforth engaged for the duration, now was the time to tithe the Church when they weren't looking!

And what splendid timing. Further down the street from the inn, a small band of men were smashing and slicing their way through a few of the enraged citizens of Ylara. Majister's men, seven in number, who were armored in an array of leather and chain pieces of which some pieces were roughshod and others curiously pristine, a haphazard mix of worn and new. They had their swords, their clubs and maces, one even armed with a dwarven longaxe.

His raiders. Here to claim the prize that lay within the Vault.

They finished their fight and saw him and Darla and jogged up next to him. And Majister said with open arms, "Gentlemen, glad you could make it! As you've already seen for yourselves, we needn't even twiddle our thumbs waiting for some execution to spur a bout of delightful chaos. It's already here, hah hah! Now, Darla?"

She was rubbing her head, massaging the bridge of her nose between her eyes as if she'd the worst headache. "I hear you."

"Be a darling and produce the map for us. Our fortunes await."

After another moment of rubbing and massaging, she did. Darla pulled the map from her pocket and unfolded it and Majister and his men huddled around it; the lot of them standing in the middle of the street before the inn.

"There's," Darla winced and groaned, but continued, "a few different churches in Ylara. Based on the layout of the building"--she pointed on the map--"I don't think it's the big one. I'm fairly familiar with the look of the streets and the shape of these adjacent buildings. That should be the potter's shop and the glassblower's shop, here and here, so...so I'm confident it's the small church. The newest one, I should say. To be clear."

Majister grinned. Eyed all of his men. "And there we have it, boys."