Quest The Revolution of Vel Anir

[Ademar Acero]

“A rebellion?”

He was in disbelief at the news from Evangeline. How did this come to be? What were the dominoes that led up to this implosion of civil war? Questions that would be answered later after defeating this insurgency.

“Opportunistic bastards, and they do it after what the undead did here,” returning to his familiar voice of aggression and anger, disgusted by those that raised up arms in defiance.

“We shouldn’t waste another minute standing here, we must crush this rebellion.”

“Unless...you’re in allegiance with the scum.”

He had shown his colors, and now he’d learn hers. If she was a member of this rebellion, then he wouldn’t have any hesitations in adding her body as another corpse to the already bloody streets of Vel Anir. No political barriers would stop him. Hand was ready at his war hammer, anticipating her response.

 

[Abrielle Huxley]

"Un-fucking-believable..." Abrielle grumbled to herself. After proving herself numerous times to be a competent fighter, her new employer had decided that sending her to deliver a letter to some no-name in Vel Anir was the best use of her skills. And during rumors of an undead invasion no less.

The former gurad's stomach was in turmoil as she made her way down the road to Vel Anir. It had been nearly a year since she had fled the city. Part of Abrielle was excited to see the city again but the other part was distressed by the memories it brought up. "Deliver the letter and get out. Deliver the letter and get out." she quietly chanted to herself.

---

As Abrielle neared the fortress city she noticed more and more bodies lining the road. They were definitely not human. So the rumors were true. She quickened her pace. The sooner she could complete her mission the better.

"Halt!" a gruff male voice barked. "This is no place for a civilian. Return to the city immediately!" Abrielle stopped and glared at the man. Couldn't he see she was in a hurry?

"Do I look like a civilian?" she snapped angrily, pointing to her armor and raising her spear with her other hand. The officer blinked dumbly before seeming to compose himself. "Name and rank!" he commanded. Abrielle rolled her eyes and sighed, growing more annoyed by the second. "Huxley. Soldier. Formerly of the Eastern Guard." She could almost see the gears grinding in his head as he tried to process the information. "The Eastern Guard? What the hell are you doing way out here?!" he demanded. Before Abrielle could answer he continued. "You will return to your post immediately. Dismissed!"

"What part of "former" don't you-" Abrielle threw her hands up in frustration and stormed off towards the city.

---

The chaos Abrielle saw upon entering the city caused her to gasp in shock. Why were the guardsmen fighting their own? And were they really stupid enough to try to fight dreadlords? She wandered the streets aimlessly somehow managing to not get pulled into the fighting. Before Abrielle knew it, she was in the square.

A glint of metal flashed in the corner of Abrielle's eye and she instinctively stepped back. She snapped out of her stupor and grabbed her assailants arm throwing him to the ground.

Suddenly she was swept up by a mass of bodies, hellbent on cutting each other to pieces, and pushed further into the square.

 

[Sloan]

Each loyal Dreadlord she slew was a crushing weight, a little more pressure on cracking glass. They were dying for the life they'd known, for being loyal to the houses they'd served, for their duty and oath to obey and protect. Tears blinded her eyes as she cut down the last man attempting to flee. She had tried, begged them as they fought her to stop, tried to convince them that this slaughter was for the greater good, but each body that fell had her more and more uncertain. She clung to the vision that Zana had shown her of a better Vel'Anir, to the thought of her grandchildren playing happily in a life that they could have only if the great houses fell.

And still, every fatal blow she struck against the loyal men and women broke her. Had it not been for Zana, would she have fallen too? Sloan had been devoted to her house, to Vel'Anir, she had never put a foot wrong in her entire life, but her priorities had been changed.

She wasn't sure for how long she'd stood staring at the destruction before her when she heard her name and turned, the streaks where the tears had washed the blood and dirt the only clean parts of her face.

'Dreadlord Sloan, of House Luana, am I right?' ...

It was like a punch in the gut. She wasn't entirely sure how to answer, the question bringing it's own existential crisis to the forefront of her mind. Her lips pressed thinly and she gave a silent nod, her jaw tightening as she drew her glassy gaze over the men and the one slumped in their custody. She was silent as she considered the question and had to fight down a wave of nausea at the sight of the beaten man looking up at her.

"Honour?.. What honour is there in hanging a beaten man for the crime of loyalty?.. Is a quick death not enough?" she asked, her voice cracking with the rage that simmered below the stoic surface. She sneered at the man who'd spoken to her and took a kneel in front of Trajan.

"I commend your devotion, Sir.." she frowned. "But I would rather not kill another soul if it can be avoided. The houses will fall today, and there will be peace. You have a choice to make, be part of the solution and live to see it, or a swift death. You will not be hung up as an effigy, irregardless of your decision.. That's not what this revolution is about." she glared up at the men with her latter comment, and returned a pleading gaze to Trajan.

"What is your answer, friend?"..

 

[Zana]

Anir Square - East End
​

Zana saw each of their deaths.

Visions flickered across her mind like the moving pictures the mages of Elbion created. Every time her eyes landed on another person who hurried past them in the hall, or she glanced at one of the soldiers fanned out about her to protect her. The maid running with tears in her eyes would die as a building toppled on her a street from her home. Kreg, the soldier on her right, would die with an arrow through his eye that had been aiming for her throat. The Dreadlord of House Weiroon running past without seeing them with three others close behind would have his head severed by Admiral Jarun whilst trying to rescue Aisling Weiroon.

Traitor...

"I'm sorry," she whispered under her breath and tore her eyes away from the cowering little boy no older than eight who would die with his throat slit by a Dreadlord in a killing frenzy. If he came with her it would be far worse.

Zana drew up short as Landon's words brought her attention back to the present. Bloody hell was perhaps an apt description of what lay ahead of them. The cobbled streets ran slick with rivers of blood and pooled around discarded bodies. Crows circled overhead adding their voices to the screams of murder down below. Brother against brother, student against master. People were choosing a side: The Old Way or the New.

"Landon, start helping the civilians, get them to--"

"YOU!" a voice cut through the noise and then a small army cleaved its way through the battle. Their Luana sigil's entwined with a ring of thorns still shone proudly on their chests and Zana's heart constricted. Leonora was a Minor offshoot of Luana but their Dreadlords had trained and worked with Luana for decades till the point it was just the slight difference in sigil that told them apart.

"Is it right?" Cassiopeia came to a stop at the bottom of the steps. "Is Kalen right? You betrayed us?"

Zana's eyes flickered over the three women fanned out behind her friend. Jaya, Olya and Lottie. It was hard to tell the quads apart if you didn't know them but she had been fighting by their side for years. They were some of the best cavalrywomen she knew, and some of the deadliest Dreadlords too.

"We need change, Cassie," she said whilst slowly descending the steps to meet her. "Luana are on the side of the rebels. With Leonora--" The slap across her cheek echoed across the square.

"Leonora are not traitors!" Cassiopeia spat and drew her blade whilst Zana spat blood onto the floor. "My sisters and I will put your head upon a spike next to that mentors of yours," the three women behind her dropped into a crouch as one, blades or spear levelled at the guards at Zana's back.

Nothing seemed to be said between them but with a joint yell the four of them charged.

 

[Trajan Meng]

ANIR SQUARE​

Kuldrin, Leon, Eversmann, and especially Zachary and Paravon, all shared a look of chastisement when Sloan had given her rebuke. They had all to some degree thought it a good idea to publicly hang Trajan, to send that stern and grim message to any and all would-be loyalists who might see his body swinging from a gallows. They had all on an unspoken level felt that the lengthy process of taking Trajan all the way to Anir Square would have given him as much time as possible to come around, to have the change of heart they all hoped for. And now all felt shamed to have the summary of their actions spoken aloud as Sloan had phrased them, for they knew the Dreadlord--in an act of uncharacteristic mercy--was right. None among the five of them, not even Leon, could match her gaze in the moments following.

Trajan could not clearly see the executioner that the men had brought him to, but he could hear her tone of voice. And he retained what hard stoicism he could among the beaten features of his face.

All his life he had wished for Mankind to be united in common cause, striving together to secure the right to live amidst the hostile environs of Arethil and for the ultimate pursuit of happiness, this all for the love of one's fellow man and woman. It was a false dream, false in that the very act of trying to achieve it would bring about the destruction of the dream itself through the necessity of the terrible means that would only tear Mankind further apart. Trajan had made this mistake himself with the Luminari. And now, in what he was certain were his final moments, he saw this same mistake being done again by those of his own country. Vel Anir was destroying itself in a vain attempt to bring itself together.

To Sloan he said, "With enough slaughter...you will find your peace...among the silence of corpses."

He would have none of it.

He was no traitor.

And Trajan thought of Valynthe. If his last thoughts were of her, of a world in which he had allowed her grace to temper his wrath while he was in his youth, then the tragedy all around him could be dulled, and his final moments would not be those of a troubled soul.

Sloan

 

[Evangeline]

Evangeline breathed, a slight, wry smirk appearing on her visage. She could have told him whatever she wanted. She could've said that she was on an important, time sensitive mission and been on her way. She could have left Ademar to be torn asunder by any of the rebel Dreadlords that happened upon him. But she didn't. She told him the truth.

"Truth be told, Ademar, I don't much care for this rebellion. My loyalty lies with the Lord and Lady of House Pirian, and no one else." She replied plainly, forearm resting casually on the hilt of her sheathed sword. Nothing about her stance read aggressively whatsoever, in fact.

"Therein lies the problem, however...you see, they are very invested in this little ordeal, and you, well...you're a pebble in the path of progress. Insignificant, but inconvenient." She explained, pretending to look at her nails as though they weren't wrapped in armored gloves.

Suddenly her eyes locked on Ademar, a sharp glare being cast upon the much younger warrior.
"And I so abhor inconveniences."

In an instant, Evangeline vanished, a puff of dust the only thing to indicate that she was ever there at all, such was the speed granted her by her magic. Within a second She had ran down one alley and up another, and she swept up behind Ademar, swinging her bastard sword with the intent to decapitate him.

 

[Thorne]

No more words were necessary. Nothing the Archon could say could infuriate Thorne any more than he ever had been by his underlings. The ex-guardsman's rage had been at a cool simmer for years now. It was what drove him onwards by now, not just his love for his foster-daughter but his hatred for the Dreadlords and their ilk. Isbrand could call him whatever he wanted, it wouldn't stop him from being flayed alive by Thorne by the end of the day.

Isbrand worked fast and got serious quickly, however. Such volatile magics...eyes made from arcane energy, each which could fire a unique type of beam? A terrible sight to behold. There wasn't even enough time to properly roll out of the way of the oncoming attack. It was simply fortunate that he had already spun his chain up to speed.

Quick as he could, Thorne whipped the chain to a nearby building and, hooked into the soft wood, pulled hard. He dodged the beam with a fraction of a second to spare, parts of his cloak singed by the infernal beam as it cut through the building that had stood behind him just seconds before.

One thing was clear: Isbrand's magic had to be cut off. That was the only way Thorne saw a victory coming out of this fight...but that meant making direct contact with the Archon, be it directly or via his hook. That was going to be more difficult than it sounded. He just hoped that Zana had had the forethought to tell her husband what Thorne was capable of, then at least they could work in tandem a bit better.

At the moment, however, the major was peacefully contained outside of reality, apparently. Thorne would keep the Archon occupied as best he could, but this was far from the plan...there was supposed to be an entourage doing the same for him.

Thorne pulled hard at the hook and wrenched it from the wood it was embedded in, then spun it back to speed before whipping it directly towards Isbrand. In the same action, he threw the spiked counterweight of the chain in a curving arc to the Archon's left. As the chains flew towards Isbrand, Thorne stood ready to react to what the Archon or his many eyes might do in response.

 

[Sloan]

Sloan's head bowed at the battered man's words and she dragged a hand across her brow. "Leave him and go." she said firmly to the men, lifting her eyes to them as though daring any protest. "His decision is made, but I won't kill a man without a weapon in his hand." she stood, drawing a long dagger from her thigh and dropping it in front of the man, as though it'd make her feel better about killing him at all. Had he come at her fit and able, she'd have had far less of a problem in cutting him down, but these imbeciles had made a mess and had drawn this man's end out far longer than it had to be.

"Pick it up." she asked, her tone more of remorse than demand, her grip tightening on her own weapon as she looked down at him. She was unlikely to get those words out of her mind as she continued with her slaughter, and long after that if she saw another day.

"There is a greater good.." she assured herself more than the man before her. "Don't throw your life away for a house that would not do the same for you. I'll beg you once more to reconsider, but if your answer stands, I will make it quick." Beg, not ask. If she could change even one mind, save even one life from being wasted, she would try.

 

[Trajan Meng]

ANIR SQUARE​

The other four Guardsmen didn't need Leon to explain it to them: when a First-Level Dreadlord told you to do something, you did it. So all five of the survivors of the 44th Company turned about once dismissed and went briskly jogging away. They all longed to see the resolution of what would happen with the former sergeant, the man whose leadership had saved their lives, to see if he would make the smart choice and embrace the revolution, but...alas. In any case, the fight for Vel Anir's freedom was far from over, and they could go and aid elsewhere. So they went hurrying across the Square to depart.

Trajan had been left on his hands and knees, for his beating had been such that he could hardly stand. The dagger clattered down in front of him. Pick it up.

He looked (so much as he could look through the horrendous, purple swelling above his eyes) at the dagger. Up to the blurry figure of the Dreadlord. Don't throw your life away for a house that would not do the same for you. That house she spoke of, House Meng, was his family. His father, his mother, all of his sisters, his nephews and nieces. He could only hope that they could all escape the city before this madness saw their blood spilled for the crime of loyalty, as the Dreadlord herself had put it--perhaps more fittingly so than she had originally intended.

Trajan reached out with a shaky hand. Touched the hilt of the dagger. He harbored no illusions about how this would end. Die now, for there was no besting a Dreadlord, or die tomorrow, if it was so that this new Vel Anir was inevitable. There was no place for a man who kept his loyalty, for a man who would not submit.

A low, wincing rumble in his throat as he pushed himself up to his feet. Stood unsteadily.

"Thank you, Dreadlord..." A ragged breath, "...for at least allowing me to die..." another ragged breath, "...as my fallen comrades have."

Defending that which he had sworn to defend. Serving that to which he had sworn loyalty. An old soldier, overmatched by the advancement of the world around him, dying with the old ways he knew.

Trajan Meng stepped toward Sloan and swung the dagger in a weak, perfunctory slash.

Sloan

 

[Talus]

Anir Square - West End

Trajan Meng | Sloan | Trajan Meng ​

Two of the eyes followed Thorne as he moved, one of them suddenly flickering with that same energy as the hook shot forward towards Isbrand.

A second passed, and then suddenly the eye glanced down for just one moment. The earth shook, and then the cobbles of Anir Square shifted and rose up within an instant. A solid wall of rock formed, rising up from the ground just in time to stop the hook from striking Isbrand.

The metal buried within the stone, a loud clatter of broken rock echoing out.

A second later the eye suddenly flickered upwards, rising over the wall along with it's twin. Another shimmer rolled over it's iris, and then from the wall was birthed a hand of stone. It reached over the end of the metal chain, yanking hard upon it to hopefully throw Thorne down into the cobbles.

Brown and blue eyes remained trained on the Dread Hunter, watching him.

Two of the other eyes retained their focus on Talus.

The red one now followed him like a mirrored gaze. It flickered from place to place, quickly tracking him as the young Dreadlord phase-walked through the square in an attempt to reach Isbrand himself. Every time he appeared as a solid form a beam of white hot flame shot through the air.

Melted slag pot-marked Anir Square as Talus rushed forward. His blade flickered forward in his hand, the broken edge lifting as he darted through the air. Isbrand stared at him, never moving, but watching each time he appeared.

Then Talus snapped into existence before him. His word raised, reaching to impale the Archon through the chest.

The fourth eye flickered.

It's white Iris seemed to shine for just a moment, and then a solid wall of something struck Talus square in the chest. There was a crack of bone, a rib shattering as the young Dreadlord was suddenly thrown from his feet and tossed a dozen meters back into the square.

His armor clanged against the cobbles, molten slag digging into exposed flesh and searing his skin. A yelp of pain escaped him, cut off by the clapping of hands.

"Close."​

Isbrand commented with a smile.

"Try again."​

 

[Ademar Acero]

Good.

Her answer was everything he hoped for. Too long he tolerated her presence, the woman polar opposites to how he behaved and acted. She dissuaded his ambitions in massacring an Anirian town of elves and wronged him other times before.

And now she would know his fury.

Admittedly, he was surprised when she vanished instantly. He only heard her footsteps and saw the trace of dust that followed behind her sprints. No doubt this was her magic. Had he known of her abilities, he’d have a better response.

Too slow he was when Evangeline appeared from behind and slashed his sword at his neck, but instead of cutting flesh her blade would collide against his own skin that hardened like stone. The six guards earlier could not manage to lay a scratch on him as he had absorbed the stone of the city’s street and was applied to his body; acting like a shell.

What an inconvenience for her.

“Ha!” turning around with a closed fist to backhand Evangeline’s face, though it required more time than usual with the weight of the stone his body absorbed.

“You’re right, Evangeline. I am an inconvenience for you, a boulder in your way. I’ll make sure you’re hanged along with your Lord and Lady on the highest structure of the city, for all to see!” regardless if the back of his fist found her face or not, he monologued with confidence.

He stood in a balanced stance, facing his foe and the war hammer steady in his hands. His hammer was swung at her chest, enough might to pierce most armors.

 

[Landon]

Anir Square - East End
​

Well, Landon didn't fuking wait. As soon as the one slapped Zana, he had the arrow pulled back and let it fly toward the one with the whip. He was surprised as the other next to her deflected it with her sword. With a snap-crack, that whip sailed through the air, sliding into his cheek. He had another arrow on his bow though and fired it at close range into her foot.

She yelled and stumbled but kept coming.

A sword swung toward his left side and he managed to get his bow perpendicular to deflect with a grunt even as the sting of the whip pinned an arm to his waist.

"For fuk's sake," Landon ducked and punched an elbow into the sword girl's face even as the one with the whip caused him to stumble forward.

In his peripheral the fire-bearing dreadlord was toasting up the guards not too far away.

GREAT. JUST GREAT.

 

[Zana]

Anir Square - East End
​

The four sisters were not called The Vipers for no reason.

Dreadlords prided themselves on being singular killing machines. They needed nobody and no-one to slaughter armies or raze cities to the ground. They had been built to be weapons, each and every one of them, and their tactics were geared to the solo method of fighting. The Vipers were different. Even the Academy hadn't been able to break the bond that had developed in the womb between the four women. Their powers whilst subtly different were all linked with one another and over the years as they had progressed to the First Level rank they had worked on the unique style of fighting as a team.

Zana barely brought her blade up in time to parry Cassie's and Jaya was there to take advantage of her defensive stance. The long bladed spear danced across her unprotected side which Zana swivelled to barely block. Cassie pressed the advantage forcing the Luana Dreadlord to dance back up the steps. The screaming of the guards - guards she knew - echoed in her ears. Glancing at them would cost her her life but she couldn't do nothing.

Her magic reserves were low after Hamish but she would need it for this fight and flung her hand out towards the nearby demolished house. Stone and mortar rose up and shot towards the fire-bending Dreadlord at the same moment the four sisters vanished in front of the group.

"Be careful!" she called to the guards at her back. "They have chameleon magic," meaning they could blend almost seamlessly into any backdrop.

 

[Sierra]

The Academy​

Archon Crane’s voice purred in her ear. The pain was blinding, everywhere, and consuming. She knew enough that she was on the ground. Had a vague memory of being at the Academy.

“You surprise me,” he continued. “Leader of the Underground. Of this…pathetic group of rebels. You Do realize all will fall. And you will watch each death. Each long, painful death.”

She could barely breath but she fought to touch her magic again. Beyond that wall of pain.

“And then when I get my hands on Rose.”

Her stormy-grey eyes snapped open. He’d said the wrong damn thing. And for a moment, she took all that pain he was putting on her body and reflected those very real emotions back on him. She just didn’t know how long she could hold it.

At least she had the satisfaction of hearing his strangled grunt of surprise

 

[Sloan]

Sloan's dark eyes glared after the men who scuttled away, her head shaking slowly. She had to refrain from helping the man to his feet, but thought better than to dent his pride, and so she waited, her knuckles pale as her fingers squeezed so hard at the dagger housed in her palm that her hand shook. She had never been a cruel woman, but she had killed countless in her years in the employ and whether man or elf she had never made a creature suffer more than was necessary whilst carrying out her duty. And never before had she been so torn by the act of murder than she did right now as she watched the beaten man stagger to his feet and toward his death.

Her lips parted and a breath was drawn in, another plea dancing on her tongue, but it remained locked behind her teeth and she swallowed it with a bitter grimace as he thanked her. A tear fell at the sight of him, and she stepped forward into the feckless slash of his borrowed weapon, allowing the blade to slice across her chest, allowing him to draw blood for his house and honour, of the woman about to end his life.

She drew in a sharp gasp at the hot pain and hesitated for only a moment before stepping in, a hand gripping the crook of his neck as she drew him toward her and with a whispered apology by his ear, Sloan drove the blade into his heart..

Trajan Meng

 

[Trajan Meng]

ANIR SQUARE​

Trajan heard the whispered apology.

Felt Sloan's blade pierce into his chest and through his heart. A quiet, composed grunt in his throat.

He managed a small nod to her in his final moment, a casting away of allegiances, of all worldly things save only the respect of one warrior for another.

And Trajan Meng fell dead in Anir Square.

Sloan

 

[Elise Virak]

Virak Estate

"Loric." The Dreadlord snapped his head up as she spoke, his gaze hollow.

He looked up at Elise with an unparalleled devotion, as if everything else around the Baroness had fallen away. The only light in his life was her, and as she spoke, his attention was entirely fixed upon the head of House Virak.

She smiled down at him, a cruel confidence playing upon her lips as she slowly turned and began to move up the steps of the dais. "I need you to do something for me."

"Anything, Lady Virak."​

The response came instantly, almost cutting off her words. She frowned for a moment, and wondered briefly if perhaps she had overdone it. After Henry had managed to sever her connection with him, Elise had rethought the Blood Parasites, changed them.

Now however, she considered that she might have made them a tad too strong.

Her head shook as she turned and placed herself down on the plush throne like chair once more. Her legs crossed, and she plucked a few strands of fluff from the fur covering before she spoke once again.

"I need you to find some people in the city for me." She mused. "Val Pirian, and Aisling Weiroon."

Elise leaned back in her chair. "You can do that for me, can't you Loric."

The First Level Dreadlord nodded eagerly in response.

"Of course, My Lady. I will find them both."​

With a haste the man quickly turned on his heel, and then Elise sudenly thought of something. As he began to stride towards the door she called out to him.

"I need them alive and unharmed Loric. They are precious to me." The Dreadlord stopped, glanced back, then bowed once more.

"I shall treat them as they were your family, My Lady."​

As Loric headed out the door Elise leaned forward in her chair slightly. Her lips thinned, and she glanced down at her hand. A quiet hrm. passed through her throat. "I'll have to experiment some more."

She mused.

 

[Sloan]

Anir Square - West Side

Sloan lowered Trajan to the ground as his body crumpled, the bloodied blade sliding free of his chest and clattering to the cobbles. The dreadlord knelt, frowning at his pummelled face, his pained expression now peacefully loose with death. She could hear the chaos around her, and yet she remained bowed and bleeding at the dead man's side for a long moment. She'd never met him before, though she was certain she'd have liked him if she had, for in the few minutes she'd known him his quality had been obvious. He was everything she had been, and should have still been, and even battered and bruised he'd still put her to shame.

Her jaw tightened as she reached to lay his limp arms across his chest, leaving her dagger in his hand and getting herself to her feet to drag a hand down her tear-streaked face as she surveyed the dead loyalists she'd single-handedly littered the square with. Guilt smothered her like a pillow over her face, allowing just enough air in to keep her body functioning and yet crippling her all the same. She staggered to a barrel and heaved the meagre contents of her stomach into it..

This couldn't be right...

Had this really been the only way?

Finally, Sloan gathered her wits enough to keep moving, following the sounds of clashing weapons to the west end of the square, the sight of Talus being thrown and who he currently faced robbing her of breath.

Shit. Her eyes scanned rapidly for Zana, and she wasn't sure whether she should feel relieved that she didn't see her. Sloan had met Isbrand only a number of times. She'd witnessed first hand what sort of monster he was. She hoped his eyes would be focused elsewhere as she took a short run and launched her spear at his back with as much force as she could muster.

Trajan Meng Talus Thorne

 

[Talus]

Anir Square - West End

Sloan | Thorne​

Isbrand Lorel did not even turn.

It was strange. He did not move. The five eyes did not face her. Yet still it came. That defense. That protection that seemed to reign over him.

The Archon didn't move, didn't even flinch for a second as the white eye flickered in front of him and another pulse rang out. It was not looking towards Sloan.

It seemed that the very around him seemed to rupture, pulse with a force unseen as the air burst all around the Archon. The Spear that Sloan had thrown found itself tumbling backward, thrown back through the air and tumbling until it struck into the cobbled earth and stabbed into the ground.

"Sloan."​

A happy smile flickered over the Archon's face, his head shaking in disbelief slightly as he let out a loud sigh. Fingers slowly threaded over arms as he crossed them between his chest. His gaze flickered back for just a moment, peering over his shoulder.

"What a shame."​

A 'tsk' clicked from his tongue.

He filled his lungs with a breath, his voice ringing out loud enough so that all those who stood nearby could hear him.

"You were just one step away. One little move, jump. You could have been something. You could have tasted real power. You could have stood among the greatest of us. Yet here you are...."​

Isbrand sighed.

"Throwing your lot in with this pathetic bunch."
​

As soon as he said the word that Red Eye turned. It flickered backwards in an instant, and then within the span of a heartbeat a beam of white hot flame launched itself towards the First Level Dreadlord.

"Disappointing."​

 

[Landon]

Anir Square - East End​

"Zana, luv, please tell me these are the only special friends you know," Landon grunted as he lunged forward to knock himself into the whip sister. She might have speed but he had strength and bulk. He fell into her and rolled, pinning her to the ground as he scrambled free from that whip.

The ground was coated with ash, dirt, and blood.

He managed to get his hand on the hilt of his dagger as he brought it to her throat.

"Yield," he grunted. She spat in his face.

With a grimace, he brought the dagger down into her heart as there was a yelp from Tessa behind him. One of the ones guarding Zana's flank. A dry, wet gasp from her throat as the sword that looked like it blended into the air wrenched free from her chest.

Landon reacted, that same dagger in the whip sister's throat sllllicked free and launched at the space where the sword was hovering. Even as his chest ached. Even as sorrow and blame flooded his own thoughts. He'd been with Tessa from the beginning. They'd survived the front together. Many a freezing nights without a fire and living off army rations.

And she was gone.

 

[Merosh Devathor]

Virak Estate

It was one thing to reach the estate of house virak, going all the way from the outer wall to here, through the chaos that had suddenly unfolded, as if the attack of the undead wasn't enough. But it was another challange to actually get into the estate for it was barricaded and guards as well as dreadlords were raging before the entrances around. So the Anirian Guard didn't lied to him, they were really here. He wasn't that much surprised about the opposing dreadlords, though. On his way to the estate he had already seen them fighting against his own kind in the streets of Vel Anir.

Merosh avoided the main entrance and choosed another one. The rebels were here too, but as well some virak house guards and loyal Dreadlords fighting these madmen. Merosh was able to gain access to the Estate because he sided with them and helped them with the slaughter. He was probably even lucky to be able to prove his loyalty this way, because all those who defended the house here seemed to be especially sceptical of anyone who came from outside. He could not blame them.

A servant told him where he could find the lady of the house for he had information to tell. His steps led him briskly through the corridor. The fact that he could still walk so swiftly after the fight against the undead was only thanks to his physiomancy. He had at least avoided any fights on the way here as far as possible in order to save his resources.

As Merosh approached the entrance to the study, he noticed that the door was already open for some reason. Before he reached it, Dreadlord Loric stepped out and passed by, his face bloody and his gaze blank, just like one of the many undeads he had killed. Merosh wasn't sure what was going on, but he lowered his head a bit. It was a first level Dreadlord after all. But Merosh kept going. He only stopped at the open doorway and glanced inside.

There in front of the door was a pile of meat that had probably once been a person and that servants were trying to pick up. It looked suspiciously like Elise's work. Merosh sighed. So they have already come so close. He raised his eyes to Elise.

"Lady Virak", he started, "If I may, I've something to report about the current situation."

At her beckoning, he stepped in and past the corpse. When Merosh stopped at a certain distance, he bowed accordingly and when he stood up again, he folded his hands behind his back. Merosh did not know how much information she had already obtained, but he would report what he had found out so far. It was up to her what she would do with the information.

"The rebellious actions seem to emanate mainly from the Anirian Guard. Even though this broke out suddenly, they seem to be organised, which suggests that this action was planned long in advance. They have dreadlords among their numbers, I've seen them fighting each other in the streets and everywhere. The fact that Dreadlords have sided with the Anirian Guards even before the outbreak is also indicative of something that had been planned for some time. There were also some words that everyone in Vel'Anir seemed to have heard in their heads. The Peoples Call. Possibly a code word or something of sort.
As for their plan. The Anirian Guard want to arrest the nobles, especially those of the main houses including the king, as well as every dreadlord who doesn't accept it. And those who resist will be killed. They do want to overthrow the government and build up a new one. They also say it would be for a better Vel'Anir whatever it is, what they mean by that."

Merosh reported and as his voice faded away, he remained quiet, waiting for a reaction or instruction from Elise.

Elise Virak

 

[Yrael]

There was a deafening smash as concussive force met marble. Bits of white stone splintered from the massive slab that had suddenly risen in front of the monarch. As the dust cleared Artur’s outline came into view, kneeling down with fists raised up to his face.

Yrael’s ears were still ringing when the archon pulled his arms apart and pointed one fist towards the back of the room and one towards the attackers. The king’s throne shot backwards upon a rumbling river of stone that rose and formed a protective shell of debris. Simultaneously, the giant slab that had protected the king rocketed forwards.

Eric leapt to the side, as did Ulf and several knights. Yrael planted his feet and leaned into the stone, shoving energy at it with his shoulder. The stone did not break, but a concave crater formed when it impacted Yrael’s defense only two feet in front of him, before falling heavily to the side.

Artur was already moving, taking a series of sharp, heavy stances as he avoided strikes of lightning and rained stone from the arched ceiling.

The elite guards, meanwhile had broken formation. Four for back to guard the stony cocoon that held the king while two entered the fray. Each was easily worth ten standard knights, and their spears began to cut a bloody path through golden plate mail.

Ulf and his men could handle them, Yrael and Eric needed to devote their full attention to the archon if they hoped to survive.

Thunderclaps from Eric mixed with sonic booms from Yrael and the throne room became a cacophonous death trap. Twice lightning seared across Artur’s heavy robes, but the man had lined himself with dust, pebbles, and debris to take the currents. Small, molten pieces fell from him only to be replaced from the fresh destruction.

Yrael’s attacks were invisible, but Artur moved with a speed and grace that belied his age. ”Do not stop. He will tire.” Yrael’s voice was amplified so that Eric could hopefully hear him, and he continued to direct punches of raw impact towards the Archon from all directions. At the very least they were keeping him on the defensive… for now.

 

[Aisling Weiroon]

"I understand," Aisling finally said after a long pause. "I will support this revolution once the dust settles. I've seen the cruelty of my house and while I may disagree with the manner in which you came about this upheaval I still support the end goal."

Her words were honest. She'd seen the mistreatment of elves and others at the hands of her father or uncle or brothers. She'd always wondered why someone born with magical gifts was given a life of luxury while others were subjected to the horrors of the Dreadlord academy. Aisling had even spoken up about such things, once or twice, only to be shushed by her family.

"Excellent. I'm glad to hear you say that," Admiral Jarun said in a voice filled with faux sincerity. The commander of the Anirian Navy relinquished her grasp on the sword that dangled from her hip and moved back and away from the noblewoman. She walked over towards her desk, fumbled with some paperwork, and glanced back at Aisling Weiroon.

"Will be one less thing to worry about knowing that the heiress to the head of House Weiroon is on our side." The glib grin she wore, combined with those words, caused Aisling's heart to sink. The corsair's hands balled into tight fists and she cast a glare at Vala Jarun. Her emerald eyes transformed from confusion to panic to fury in rapid succession.

"No." Her cheeks began to turn red from anger. "You aren't going to kill my family. I won't allow that." There was no illusion in her head about her parents or brothers. They were awful people, yes, but they were her people. And she wasn't going to let them die at the hands of some so-called, 'righteous,' cause.

Vala let loose a laugh that practically shook the room. "Heaven's no my dear," her insincere expression grew, "we will negotiate a peace and as part of that peace we will declare that you are next in line to head House Weiroon." This had always been the admiral's plan. Aisling had been away from the affairs of the Weiroon's while in service to the guard. She was ignorant of their finances, making it easy for the new government to use the noble house as a piggy bank of sorts. Not to mention that, at least in the eyes of the guard, she'd be simpler to mold to their will in this new republic.

Admiral Jarun clasped a firm grip onto Aisling's shoulder and cast down a reassuring smile. "We'll discuss the details further when I return. I'm off to negotiate a peace treaty with the houses that have already submitted to our lawful rule." With the death of General Aldwaith the admiral had found herself in a position as the highest ranking member of the rebellion within the city's walls. A convenience she was going to press to its full advantage.

---

Sometime later...

---

A calamity in the lower levels of the apartment gave Aisling a fright. Screams of agony and the sounds of metal clashing continued until the door to her own room burst open. She'd grabbed a candlestick and a broom to use as make-shift weapons until her eyes fixated on the figure in the door and her heart leapt from her chest.

It was a man dressed in the attire of the Dreadlords. His head tilted and it was he who spoke first.

"You are Aisling Weiroon. I am Loric. You will accompany me to House Virak. My lady demands it."
​

Aisling nodded, dropped her 'weapons' and followed behind the bloodsoaked Dreadlord. Any place was better than here and knowing that at least Elise was alive gave her hope for her own kin.

 

[Evangeline]

Evangeline had expected a swift execution against a lumbering oaf like Ademar. She knew his type well, all raw power and no real strategy. He hadn't expected Evangeline's speed, but unfortunately it didn't matter. The edge of her blade clanked sharply and sparked as though she'd just struck a statue. Her bastard sword, weighty as it was, wouldn't be effective against literal stone skin.

Momentarily surprised as she was, Ademar was kind enough to start monologuing rather than immediately counterstrike. Perhaps he'd been as surprised as she was. Whatever the reason, Eva wasn't stupid and she certainly wasn't going to stick this close. Speed was her strength and would be the thing that kept her alive here. One step backward and suddenly she was 10 feet away, clear and safe from fist and hammer alike.

She sheathed her sword. Beyond striking Ademar with the hilt or pommel, it would be of little use here. She grinned at him.
"Pardon me a moment, won't you?" She chimed at him before darting away at mach speed. There were plenty of corpses around, evidence of hard fought and lost battles throughout Vel Anir's streets. Wheree there were corpses, there were discarded weapons. It took only seconds to find something more suiting to the task: a war pick. What better to chunk through rock?

It took all of fifteen seconds for her to leave and return, haft of the new weapon in hand.
"Awfully kind gesture, you know, bothering to string me up when you're done with me. As for me..." She taunted the rival Second Level, pointing the head of the war pick in his direction. "I won't be so kind. When I kill you I'll leave your corpse in a ditch to rot. No one will remember you. No one will care."

Once again she darted forward, this time dashing directly towards Ademar as though she was about to strike him dead on. At the last possible moment, however, she shifted direction and swept to his right, bringing the pick up in a low arc to smash into the man's ribs and magically accelerating the strike as she did so.

 

[Thorne]

This Isbrand truly was a monster. The veteran watched as both of his strikes were easily absorbed by a slab of stone that sprung from the ground at one of the eye's bidding. Simultaneously, Talus couldn't get close enough to land a blow, the allied Dreadlord being knocked back by a pulse of raw force. How could they beat this Archon if they couldn't even touch him?

Then the stony hand grabbed hold of Thorne's hook.
"Fuck!"
Thorne barely managed to drop the length of chain around his wrists before the rolling wave of force came whipping back up the chains with a sharp crack. Getting tossed around like that at his age sounded like a quick end to his participation in this battle, and he knew that it wouldn't end well for the rebels if he was taken out that easily.

Further distraction came in the form of another Dreadlord entering the fray, this one a woman. While the spear she'd tossed was casually knocked aside like a reed in a gale, maybe that little diversion was what Thorne needed to shake Isbrand up a bit. His chain wasn't in contact with the Archon, no, but it was in contact with one of his magical constructs.

The dread hunter snatched the chain back up and clenched his teeth, bracing for the pain that he was about to endure, then send a volatile pulse of negative magic through the chain. Red lightning arced down its length and into the stony hand and wall. With any luck, it might actually arc into the blue or brown eyes that hovered so precariously near them...