Open Chronicles The Panacea to Fragility

[Itachi]

The morning was reminiscent of a bucolic fantasy as a lazy yet bright sun beginning it’s ascent in the sky. The sky was awake with a few white clouds that decorated the seamless blue. A gentle breeze that delivered cool area, swaying the tall grasses, verdant leaves, and bright blooms. Birdsong was ubiquitous, the sound of late spring and longer days. Everything felt fresh, picturesque in all five senses and was to be a delight for everyone to experience. A gift only nature could give to soothe the weary souls of Vel Anir.

The day had already started for the academy students. The first meal had been eaten, many were heading to their first morning class. Chatter was abundant. The arrival of new students were coming today. The annual year long search all across Vel Anir’s jurisdiction had been held the last thirty days or so, and now today would show the fruits of their testing.

No, not the fruits. The seeds. The seeds that the academy would cultivate to grow and bear fruits for the glorious Vel Anir to devour and grow stronger.

While seeds could grow anywhere, everyone knew that the quality of the soil would affect what a plant could produce.

Unfortunately, the Academy, the soil for which dreadlords to grow from, was rife with the blight of the rebellion. No strong or powerful dreadlord could grow from an Academy that now valued fragile little things like teamwork or friendship— can you believe that? Friendship! Of all things, why would they ever support a bond as flimsy as friendship? Next thing they would encourage would be dating! There had already been an attempt with the Winter Solstice Ball, what would be the next romantic event the diseased Academy would produce? A heart and hearth dance to encourage something as sickening as love?

How could her beloved Academy become such a disgrace? No. More importantly, how could Vel Anir allow itself to shackle it’s limbs so the weak could feel better about themselves? It was unnatural.

Galatea was certain, someone was poisoning her home and had been doing so for a very long time. An assassin who sought to weaken Vel Anir so much with poisonous promises of equitability, friendship, humaneness, and compassion. She couldn’t bear it.

“Do not worry,” Galatea the Blasphemous whispered as she freely walked the grounds of the Academy, bending and distorting light so she was invisible with ease, “I have the cure. I will cure you.” The wagons were arriving, the first dozen or so for the day. The bombshell smiled, something that was affectionate in her opinion but would be seen as wicked to anyone else. She didn’t smile often so the upturn pull of her lips looked more like a vicious sneer.

Guardsmen and proctors alike were lined up, ready to take the names of the children and separate them into lines to make registration far easier. She waited. One wagon done, ten kids not much older than six all lined up. Many fidgeted and And squirmed, the proctors doing nothing to correct them. Galatea frowned. It was worse than she expected. This blight, this generation of soft weaklings, it was almost enough to make her destroy the academy right then and there. She took a deep breath.

Patience. She must exercise patience.

The last wagon left. Finally. It was time. It was time to purge this rot and to take these children. She would train them herself, just as she had been trained. They would become beautiful weapons instead of ugly little stains on the Kingdom’s good name.

Galatea’s feet left the ground as she rose up much like the sun had earlier this morning. She raised her staff in the air, still distorting light. Moments later, all around the academy, children’s screams of fright could be heard all around the academy as the proctor’s were dismembered in seconds. With the future of the dreadlord’s covered in blood, Galatea revealed herself, that wicked smile appearing once more.

“Do not fear,” she called down to them, “you’ll get used to this. I promise. For your fate is one of blood and violence.”

 

[Drastus Tal'deneshaar]

Drast had been on hour three of his sleep. He had gotten back only a few hours prior from a mission and spent the rest of the time with Kristen, before he returned to his room. The Proctors who had sent him on the mission were his first three classes, so the morning was his. He had completed the mission and brought glory to the Republic!

Yeah. "For the Republic!" He had even yelled that once or twice for laughs, even accompanied it with a "Watch out for those crossbows!" The people loved it.

Screams would wake him from his pleasant dream. Children's screams. He yawned, rolled over, and pulled his blanket a little higher. "Fuck, I don't miss these days..." he then covered his ears with his pillow, cursing to himself as the screaming got louder still.

Irritated, he would grab a skeletal hand from a giant chest, one of fourteen sets he had kept from when he had accidentally enslaved a professor. "These fucking kids.. we get it, you didn't want to be here, grow. Up." he undid the latch on his window, pushed it open and chucked the hand out and down into the area below, pelting one such screaming kid in the head and knocking him out. As he hit the ground, Drast laughed to himself. "Thank you!" Laying back down, he would pull the window back in, and lock it in place.

That one kid not screaming really made a difference. He snuggled into his bed and smiled contentedly.

 

[Edric]

Edric stood on the training field, his chest slowly rising and falling, his eyes locked on his opponent.

The other Initiate suddenly darted forward. His figure moving faster than any ordinary man had a right to. He flickered and closed the distance between himself and Edric in one quick motion, his fist coming up to strike at the other Initiate’s side.

An arm swiftly came up, capturing his opponent's limb. He was about to twist, and then suddenly a scream broke through the quiet air of the morning.

Both of the Initiates stopped almost instantly, heads turning towards where the sound had come from. Screams were not uncommon at the Academy, not by a longshot, but one like that? The pitch of it? No there was something else going on. Before either of the Initiates could do anything however the Proctor overseeing their bout spoke up.

“Oi! Who told you louts to stop?”​

Edric frowned, dropping his peers arm. ”Apologies Proctor Ylai, we just heard the scre-”

A curse and a shake of the head was the quick answer.

“Screams happen all the fucking time. You know where you are, if something’s happening the alarm will ring. Now continue your bout, Initia-”​

Before the Proctor could finish speaking, the Alarms began to ring.

His face turned a flicker of crimson, and then he immediately motioned for the two Initiates.

“What the fuck are you waiting for? Lets go!”​

The Proctor hissed, heading off towards the direction of the screams.

 

[Delaney Lennox]

Delaney had spent the wee hours of the morning down in the catacombs. It was her place to think and relax. She had also found that she wanted to be down here more since her darkness had taken more control over her. Most of the time, she would just sit in the dark and think about what was next. She had told Kristen about the offer from Tulio and that was at the top of her list. She could definitely cross off being a Dreadlord because she had no interest in staying here and doing that.

The Queen of Darkness eventually opened her eyes and sighed. It felt like it was about that time to go get breakfast before she headed to class. She had her first hour free so she could go eat after the crowd had gone through.

She did not hear the screams of the children but the alarms were hard to miss as she reentered the Academy proper.

"Fuck..."

Delaney looked around and headed in the direction some of the others were running.

 

[Mars Pallatrix]

Half a cup of tea sat to Mars' left, still steaming. The old Proctor uncomfortably shifted in his seat, then leaned forward and squinted at the blurry letters neatly scrawled on the parchment before him. He grumbled something, leaned back, and blinked twice.

The morning was as it should be. Utterly quiet. Entirely serene. Just the scratching of his quill filled the silence within his office. Mars sighed.

And then the alarm sounded—a distant echo of a horn. And then the discordant tolling of bells. The old man's head whipped up from his work with a startle. He flattened his palms on his desk and rose to his feet, quietly groaning.

Mars Pallatrix strode out of his office, leaving his coat on its hook.

 

[Kristen Pirian]

"Again."

Kristen rose from the ground, dusting her Academy fatigues off. She held a practice sword in hand, and so did Graham, the mousy little Initiate who'd been unlucky enough to be walking by when Proctor Magomo was looking for a "volunteer." Kristen had risen early, even after returning from a tiring mission with Drastus Tal'deneshaar. As of late, she was just having trouble getting a good night's rest (hence the bags under her eyes which had deepened or lightened in color, but never quite went away).

So she was here. Out in the training field (Edric as well, on the opposite side of the field, sparring with another Initiate). She had been since before first light.

Here with Graham and Graham was getting exhausted. She was getting exhausted. But the difference between them was that she wanted to keep going, and Graham—it was easy to read on his beleaguered face—wanted to stop. At first he'd absolutely trounced her; Kristen lacked the experience, particularly with the sword, and Graham showed why everyone thought he was psychotic like Charon (though Kristen now knew better, having talked to him) in the ferocity of his swordplay. But she'd begun to rack up a few wins in this latest hour. More in this one day than in the entirety of last year.

And it was intoxicating.

"Why couldn't you just get Zael? He'd fight you all day." Graham asked, wiping sweat from his brow. Mostly just musing over his bad luck with Proctor Magomo.

Kristen answered his question matter-of-factly anyway. "Zael's away."

"Vance then."

"So is he."

Graham, completely flatly, said, "What? Are they off fucking?"

Kristen's face scrunched up in a reproachful expression, and she might've uttered her disapproval at the crude suggestion of that had it not been for the screams. Graham, as well, might've suggested Edric instead as a solid third option, anything to get him a break, if not for those same screams.

Kristen and Graham looked at one another. Looked across the training field to Edric and Proctor Ylai and the other Initiate. Yes, they heard it too.

And then the alarms began, those shrill bells which pierced the ear and rattled one's bones and made the heart shiver.

Kristen and Graham ditched their practice swords and ran (because when a Proctor was running, you were running too), following after Ylai and Edric and departing from the training field. Kristen didn't know what to expect. Not in the slightest.

Galatea the Blasphemous Edric Drastus Tal'deneshaar Delaney Lennox

 

[Itachi]

Spoiler: SHADOW WARRIOR

Spoiler: SHADOW BRUTE

Spoiler: SHADOW BERSERKER

[art cred by Wushen Yu]

---

Well it seemed like someone had gotten to the alarms after all, what a pity. Now all the children were screaming and crying. Galatea’s mouth scrunched up into a deep frown, her helmet hiding the fact that her eyebrows were down low on her small brow, eyes blazing in annoyance. She heard a shout, and felt an electric charge shoot at her, fizzling against the immense arcane shield around her. She didn’t even glance over as she raised a finger, lifting the diseased proctor up into the air before crossing her index over her middle finger.

His body twisted and contorted in a comical fashion, crimson blood mixed with piss raining down on the well-soaked ground beneath him.

“I’ll get nowhere at this rate,” she said to herself, musing over the fact that she would still like to see every new initiate’s potential. First, she’d need to quiet them, then— Galatea sighed as yet another proctor made to attack her. This time she snapped her fingers and the proctor’s head exploded as if there was a bomb inside. “Fine.” She said, and with a horizontal sweep of his staff and few utterances, three dark, massive pools of pitch black sludge appeared right beneath her. She raised up her staff and up rose three of her beloved minions.

The shadow warrior, one massive arm with enough strength to crush any head and then another smaller arm that was lightning-quick and holding a curved short sword. It was no taller than five feet and five inches, hardly a fearsome height. The shadow brute, wide and bulky and even smaller than the shadow warrior, barely reaching the height of five-feet and two inches. There were four arms, two that were attached to it’s shoulders with massive stumps for hands at the end, perfecting for pummeling or breaking through thick walls. The other two arms were attached to it’s lower back and through unknown means were incredibly stretchy.

Galatea actually found it quite cute how the berserker would use those stretchy arms and sticky hands to grab a foe and bring it in close to then open it’s large mouth and crush the head between their strong teeth.

Although her favorite was the berserker. At nearly nine feet it was a behemoth. Not as agile as the warrior nor as strong as the brute, but incredibly sturdy. And consistent. Out of the three it was the smartest, but then again, it had two minds instead of one. One head that controlled the body, the other head that could focus on strategy. Even if most of the time, one swing of the massive sword usually handled the job.

“Anyone who comes near here that’s not a child, kill them.” Galatea ordered, her minions only grunting in response. She then lowered herself to the ground, speaking spells. From her fingers flew multiple pink lights of energy, looking just like fireflies in a night sky. They flew from her outstretched hand and found their targets: the new batch of initiates. They would fly into whatever opening they could find: ears, nostrils, gaping mouths.

Seconds later, the children would be fast asleep.

 

[Drastus Tal'deneshaar]

Any peace or quiet Drastus thought he was going to get, he didn't. The alarm bells began to ring. He was going to be very disappointed with a great many people today.

Sitting up in his bed, he took his dagger and dragged it along his palm before setting it on Rupert's skeletal mouth. There would be a sting as he felt his companion awaken and in a swirl of ethereal magic, his undead protector would be ready to go. Ready to kill.

Out the door, down the stairs, his eyes scanned the courtyard. To the right, he could see Edric, Kristen, and Proctor Mars running in his direction. A glance left and he saw double wide and extra thicc Chas, Proctors dying, kids sleeping. A pity then, that Proctor Vernon was gone on assignment.

A kid screamed until he bounced into Drast's side and the initiate put a glowing hand on the kids head and the screams would intensify briefly before the kid collapsed to the side. "Chill or be chilled, my guy." Before triple x rated Chas, a trio of black sludge circles formed and the heads of conjured servants began to claw their way into this world. Awkward, ugly, looking things.

Rupert's hungry gaze fell upon their attacker and a series of requests funneled in. These were of course ignored by the young Necromancer. The ethereal glow resonated in Drast's eyes and about a dozen recently killed Proctors, students, and the kid that had just happened to die next to Drast began to shamble back to their feet.

"Attack these ugly freaks." He ordered and the dozen or so undead would stagger their way towards her own conjured allies.

 

[Edric]

Edric rushed forward.

His steps thundered against the dirt. A sheen of sweat already flickering over his skin, fingers tightly gripping the scimitar that had been clutched against his opponent. He rushed towards the screams, every clash of his booth a memory of what had happened in the Academy.

He ran, the Initiate at his side, the Proctor at his back.

Then the first of them fell forward.

A brutish hulk rushed from the reach of nowhere. It's features impassive, the blade in it's hand glittering in the expanse of the sun. No expression pulled over it's features, not an inch of weariness drawing across it's face as it shifted in place.

"What the fu-"​

Before he could even finish his sentence the other Imitate felt the flicker of a blade smash upon him.

Edric's sword flickered forwards. Steel meeting steel in a clash of orange sparks. A cast of strength raining down upon those who stood firm. "Who gives a fuck!"

He called.

"Kill it!" Edric shouted, his training sword holding the creature firm. His magic desperately clawing at the vitality it so depended upon.

 

[Delaney Lennox]

The self proclaimed Shadow Queen made a brief stop in one of the weapons rooms. She grabbed two long swords and took off at a run again. She had a feeling that there was at least one person that was responding to this attack with no weapon or a training weapon. It was morning. It was a time of classes and practice.

As she hit the outdoors, she continued to run in the direction that the screams and the cries were coming from. It did not take long for her to see Drastus with his little undead army, Edric, Kristen, other Initiates, some Proctors, and some fucking creatures that looked quite ugly.

"Fuck me..." She said to no one in particular.

"Anyone need a real sword?" Delaney asked as she came up towards the group that was starting to move forward.

She would pass the sword off to whoever needed it before she took off to join the fight with her darkness almost completely covering her body in happy anticipation for the killing.