Quest The Revolution of Vel Anir

[Val Pirian]

Staying unnoticed had thus far been surprisingly easy. Apparently when the entire city is ripping itself apart, not many people care tremendously about an extraordinarily handsome man in relatively plain clothes. While this might've been deeply insulting on any other day, today it was something to be positively treasured. Fortune had shown him favor this day, it seemed! Maybe a bit of Aisling's unnatural luck had rubbed off on him after all.

Unfortunately, fortune is a fickle maiden. Val must've been about halfway to the Virak estate by now and he was practically gloating to himself about it. What must've been a loyalist guard patrol, headed up by a...Third Level Dreadlord (representing House Sirl, by the looks of the gallantry he wore) practically ran right into him as he was making his way down a back street. The guard weren't much to worry about, but the Dread...a Dread might recognize him.

"You there! Citizen! Return to your home or suffer the consequences, it's not safe outside right now." Hollered a guardsman among the group. Val cringed.

"Yes, yes, of course, my apologies! Just a tad lost, I suppose. Beg pardon, I'll be on my way!" Val offered back, doing his best to hide his face with one of the lapels of his jacket. He had already started to turn and head back down the way he'd come when the Dreadlord shouted after him.

"Halt! Wait a damn moment. With an accent like that, you're no bloody commoner."

Shit. Shit shit shit. If any of them got close he was screwed, no way he was getting out uncaptured. Val was not about to let himself be a hostage, not today. He stopped and put his hands up unassumingly.
"Is there a problem, good Sir Dreadlord?" He replied in an innocent tone. Looking over his shoulder he could see now, a lithe, younger fellow the Dread was, flanked by four guardsmen. They'd already drawn weapons.

"Keep yer hands up. Turn around, then head back this way."

Sigh...Val did so loathe violence. He did as the Dreadlord asked, turning slowly, hands up, then offered a smile to the group before him.

"Good, now--"

ZAP! Val cut the man off as a bright, yellow spirals of energy shot from the palms of his hands and into the group of men, all five of them. Paralysis waves, something he'd borrowed from a foreign dignitary in recent days. Each of the soldiers and even the Dreadlord suddenly lost the ability to move or even speak, forced to glare at Val in wide-eyed shock.

Fortune was still in his favor after all! If they hadn't been so bunched up in this alleyway, he likely wouldn't have been able to get them all in one go.
"Sorry chaps, but I have a date with a lovely, platinum-blonde noblewoman and I would just be positively barmy to be late. Tah tah!" He chimed at the lot of them, booping the Dreadlord on the nose before pushing past the lot and continuing on his merry way.

 

[Elise Virak]

Virak Estate
Merosh Devathor

"The Guard." Elise mused, leaning back in her chair. Things were never simple, but then again that had been the expectation when she'd taken the throne. Lips thinned for a few moments, and she thought about all the different paths that could be taken.

All the ways this could end.

She had already made her decision in a way, or rather, it had been made for her. The Servant would return soon with the pieces she needed, and hopefully Loric would gather what she needed as well. Lips thinned for a moment, and then she leaned forward.

A few others within the throne room came forward. Some of them were Dreadlords, a few simple House Guards. They watched her, waiting, wondering. There was a tension that held within the room, and then finally she let out a sigh.

"House Virak will support the guard." She said simply. "As we always have, and always will."

A few gasps echoed through the room, but it was no real surprise. "And within that support, we will grow stronger."

There were still those in House Virak who supported her father, who quietly wished to see Elise fall. This would be an opportunity to rid herself of them. A quick purge during the revolution, ridding herself of those who would have supported her enemies.

Dreadlords, cousins, whatever else remained to stand against her.

A breath filled her lungs, and she regarded the man in front of her.

"Merosh, I need you to look for my friend, Val Pirian. His house will undoubtedly support this Rebellion." Loric had been sent to find both, but Vel Anir was a big city. "I will need word to spread of Virak's intentions."

No one as of yet had attempted to truly break into her estate, not beyond a paltry few tries. The House of Virak was militarily the most formidable of the seven, and the Guard knew that. No doubt they had been waiting for reinforcements.

Reinforcements that could now be pointed elsewhere.

She just had to sell her own little story first.

 

[Merosh Devathor]

Virak Estate
Elise Virak

Merosh blinked. House Virak would do what? Yeah, this house had always supported the Anirian Guard, but doing so right now meant to support the damn rebellion. To support the madmen who went against this very house, the government itself and even against their own people which they were killing outside just right now. Why did Elise wanted to submit to this?

Merosh took a deep breath, but it was only air that left his lungs, no words of protest that were on the tip of his tongue. He understood very well that Elise wanted to make the guards her allies but this wasn't the way to treat his enemies. What would be the next step, becoming friends with the elves?

"And within that support, we will grow stronger."

He hoped Elise would be right. Merosh wasn't one of those Virak Dreadlords who were only loyal to her father and who wanted her to be replaced from the start. He instead had wanted to see first what she was capable of. And Merosh had seen that, both in combat and in plotting. That's why he had no doubt that Elise knew what she was doing. Even if this decision displeased him.

~​

"Merosh, I need you to look for my friend, Val Pirian. His house will undoubtedly support this Rebellion."

Val Pirian? Did she meant Percival, the heir of House Pirian? It wasn't a surprise to him that House Pirian would support an undertaking such as this. It was more questionable that Elise was friend with some of them. But it was not for him to judge. Merosh nodded.

"Any suggestions where to find him?", he asked. It was quite difficult to find anyone in particular in the chaos of the whole city now. He could be everywhere. So any hint would be of help.

"I will need word to spread of Virak's intentions."

"I will inform the rebels as well as the virak dreadlords on my way.", Merosh responded. And once Elise dismissed him, he went on his way to find Val Pirian.

 

[Roul]

ANIR SQUARE

“Well, well, well, so the mob finally strikes when Anir is at its weakest. Like rats who smell a corpse.”

The snide, cold voice came from one of two hooded and robed figures who stood at the edge of the square.

“Can you feel it, Karcus? That stench of chaos? It’s opportunity.”

The speaker reached up and unclasped the robe, letting it fall away to reveal a blond man of but twenty summers, clad in full plate and chain. No helm obscured cobalt eyes that spoke of spring storms and a scar as red and angry as a bloody dawn.

He had but one arm, the other missing from above the elbow, and with it he drew an arming sword. A smile curled cruelly across his lips. The air hummed. Lightning cascaded from his fingertips, engulfing the sword in a coruscating miasma of dancing blue ribbons.

“Come on, Karcus, we’ve a kingdom to save.”

And with that he strode toward the confrontation between Trajan Meng, Thorne, Talus, and Sloan.

 

[Karcus Thorn]

It stunk.

The bodies that lay in the street were innumerable. The dead and undead alike lay together in hefty piles, the city heaved with mourning. It was hard to think over the overwhelming stench of flesh and death that clung to the air in its repulsive abundance. Grime stuck to the cobbled roads, his boots sticky with the rivers of red that flowed through them, his armour stained with it; of those deserving, and those not.

It was exhausting. His hair was wet with sweat, dirt clinging to it, his helmet abandoned many, many hours ago. His cloak little more than a dust sheet.

This day's turning out to be a real headache.

Fear caked Vel Anir, and he could sense it. If the Undead hadn't struck it into the townspeople, the realisation of a Dreadlord rebellion certainly did. Their arcane warriors, their magical protectors, turning on one another. Murdering eachother.

He was lucky he'd met up with Luther in all the chaos. Possibly the one man who he could rely on in the whole of Vel Anir. Possibly Arethil. They'd worked their way through the streets of terrified townsfolk and fleeing warriors, the chaos seeming to reek from the square.

“Well, well, well, so the mob finally strikes when Anir is at its weakest. Like rats who smell a corpse.”

He grunted in agreement.

“Can you feel it, Karcus? That stench of chaos? It’s opportunity.”

"It's certainly a stench. More corpsey." He smiled.

He, too, unclasped his cloak, letting it fall to the ground. His armour was dull with the dark clouds that travelled overhead, his longsword hanging about his side. It was plain, its blade without engraving and its hilt without decoration. But it made little difference. Though the weapon may have been plain, the edge was deadly sharp.

The clouds turned in their favour, as Luther weather-worked, the sky groaning with anticipation, and Luther's blade brimming with cleansing light.

“Come on, Karcus, we’ve a kingdom to save.”

"Make them pay for what they took from you." Again, he smiled at his friend, before facing the square.

And with that, Karcus's eyes began to glaze over, as any element of himself that was once there melted away. His expression turned blank, and all that filled his face was a cold, unfeeling scowl. All that mattered now was the field of battle. He gripped his longsword, breathing in the terror tainting the air, and began to rush towards the fray.

That's all that matters.

 

[Sloan]

Anir Square

Sloan continued her stride, yanking the spear free of the ground as she approached. "Isbrand." she greeted dryly, her gaze narrowing at his taunts. She had been so close to being an Archon, it was true, but that no longer mattered..

"Fortunately my priorities have changed." she answered, a strained smile tugging at her lips as she waited for his attack. Sloan shielded her eyes as the flame met a hard wall of nothing in front of her, her shield absorbing the energy from the heat and leaving her unhurt. The moment she could move she did so, keeping her shield up as she sought to rain blows against the archon and leech whatever energy from him that she could.

But there was none. She could feel nothing. "He's not here!" she yelled to Talus. "Check the rooftops!" she barked. Isbrand, she knew, could project himself as another physical form, capable of doing as much damage without the risk of exposing himself to attack, but he had to be nearby, he had to be watching, and the advantage of height made most sense.

She hadn't yet noticed the loyalists approaching to join the fray...

Talus Thorne Karcus Thorn Luther Urahil

 

[Ademar Acero]

She evaded his attack and took proper distance away from him. She vanished and returned with a new weapon in her hands. A war pick. A proper tool against foes with armored plates and more. He was expecting range magic from Evangeline as he always had a rough time in fighting those with that style of fighting. Not many could best him in close quarters combat due to his magic, a fact many could verify. Perhaps she would divert to another strategy?

She proved him wrong when she dashed at him after her taunting.

"Come to your death, swine!"

A quick death to reward for her brashness.

His war hammer was and swung where he thought she would be from her sprint, only to change her direction and attack him from an angle. The war pick indeed penetrated his armored plates and tore whatever chainmail there was, enough force to make a dent on the area of his ribs which was protected by his stone skin. Nerves reacted to the attack, a sharp needle pricking at his body. He groaned, dropping his hammer and grabbed hold of the war pick.

"You bitch," and a gauntlet fist was aimed at her face.

 

[Talus]

Anir Square - West Side
Thorne | Sloan

Almost as soon as the energy flickered up the chain and over the wall the blue eye seemed to dance back. It floated through the air high above the wall. It's twin companion flickered for a moment, that odd wave of energy running over Its iris.

The wall shifted, a thousand spikes growing from it's side suddenly. They pulled themselves free, but never shot forward. The snake charge that Thorne had sent over his weapon suddenly bounced from the top curve of the wall and to the floating eye. It struck home, and in an instant the eye seemed to surge with pain. It vibrated, flickered, and then suddenly popped at the anti-magic coursed through it.

Sloan's voice rang out a second later.

'Isbrand' frowned, the black eye at his side flickered, and then suddenly the 'Archon' appeared beside Sloan.

"I'm going to slit your throat personally."

There was a pause, and then suddenly the red eye flickered once more and a surge of fire washed towards Sloan. This time it was not a simple beam, but instead a wave which crashed over the West half of Anir square. It poured forth like a river, scourging the earth and burning away the living and dead in one quick instant.

As the flame poured fourth the eye behind it flickered, vibrated, and then suddenly seemed to turn to dust.

The blue eye meanwhile flicked it's gaze down towards Thorne. It peered at him, and then a pulse ran over its ocean like iris. The air itself seemed to shiver, quake, and up above the clouds began to turn dark. Within a few seconds the sun disappeared behind a roiling dark storm, rain pattering down over Vel Anir. The eye still stared at Thorne, hovering high above the ground. Almost as though it were waiting.

Talus pulled himself off the ground of Anir Square, reaching out to grab at the hilt of his broken sword as he heard Sloan shout his name.

An ache tugged at his muscles, and he could feel blood dripping down his face and side. Lips thinned for a moment, and he took a deep breath before he pulled himself onto his feet. His gaze flickered to where Isbrand had stood a moment ago, then to Sloan who was standing far beyond.

He saw the Archon beside her.

The Dreadlord could feel his muscles flex as he prepared to dash forward, but then he heard Sloan's words ringing in his ears. Roof tops.

He reminded himself as his gaze flickered away from Sloan and towards the rooftops that surrounded them. His eyes quickly raced over them until he spotted the silhouette of a man perched atop a gargoyle outcropping. A scowl pulled at his lips, his gaze moved towards Sloan.

Shock dashed over his features as he felt the heat of the massive flame born of the red eye. Instinct screamed at him to dash forward, grab Sloan and get her out, but he knew that was not how they would win. His body tensed, and then suddenly reality snapped away from him. Talus' ghostly form pulled itself away from his body, and in an instant he dashed across Anir Square.

The ground behind him quaked, and then exploded outward as the White Eye pulsed with those strange surges. The air itself seemed to bend and then forcefully explode, Isbrands eye desperately attempting to track Talus as he rushed across the square and towards the building.

He moved like a wisp, rushing up the side of the building with a great leap and two strides. His figure snapping back into existence as he grabbed hold of a flagpole and snapped it in two with one quick swipe. The metal sundered, slipping into the Dreadlords hand.

Under his breath he whispered something. There was a surge within the metal and then a flick of Talus' arm sent it flying up towards Isbrand.

The Archon grinned and opened his mouth to speak.

"You think I'd let that touch m-"

Before he could finish speaking the flagpole struck into the rock below the gargoyle. A breath passed, and then it suddenly exploded outward in a surge of broken masonry and stone. The gargoyle trembled, and then suddenly tumbled down as the top of the building found itself tumbling down.

Talus and Isbrand both falling along with it into a cloud of dust and debris.

Bella had never been the strongest Dreadlord. Not really.

The magic she carried was one of utility. It was not that she couldn't fight. That she hadn't excelled at the academy or been seen as one of the healing dreadlords. No. Her magic had more worth than that, at least that was what they had told her.

For the last few years she had been tucked away into a forge, thrown to the edges of Vel Anir and used to make trinkets for rich Nobles and swords for soldiers who had done something particular well. She had toiled away for half a decade, resentful, angry. Creating beautiful works of art endowed with magic that most would have paid a fortune for.

That had all changed when Talus came.

When he'd shown her a future worth having. When he'd introduced her to her now husband, the Guardsman. When he'd spoken of a world where she would be free of the the yolk that had been wrapped around her neck.

Free to practice her craft the way she chose. The heavy hammer she had slung over her shoulder was caked with the brackish blood of the undead, and as she and her companion Isaac rushed forward through the streets and into Anir Square she couldn't help but smile.

Finally, finally people would know the true quality of Bella the Blacksmith.

Isaac Rashford move alongside Bella with swift steps. His face was already caked in blood, the sword he carried stained and worn.

He was tired.

The fight of this day had been a long one, and he'd used his magics a dozen times over to seal the great pits that the Undead had burrowed beneath the City Streets. It had been a hard task, and now the Rebellion was here.

In his lifetime he had thought it an impossibility, had thought himself little more than a tool of House Urahil, and yet here he was; Free.

It was a concept that was almost foreign to him, an idea that seemed to sit on the edges of his mind even now. Yet he believed it. With all his heart he knew his bonds had been cast off. That he fought not for a Great House, but for himself. For his friends.

As they rushed into the square to help his gaze flickered over the fires, over the broken earth, over everything that was happening. He saw the upper reaches of Vel Irellos explode, the ancient civic building ripped asunder by Talus' magic.

A curse escaped him as he gaze back towards the ground and then spotted something.

It wasn't the face that caught his attention, no, it was the hair. Lips thinned, and then he let out a gasp. He did not know Luther, had never met him, but the features of his face were unmistakable when compared to those of his father.

Isaac stepped forward, and as Luther Urahil and Karcus Thorn rushed forward they would suddenly find the ground before them begin to quake. The cobbles parted, and from the earth rose a great stone golem. it opened it's mouth and bellowed in Isaac's voice. "Stop!"

It rumbled.

"Please do not resist. The Revolution has come to Vel Anir. Stand down until the new government takes command." Those words had been uttered by himself or Bella three times that day already, only once had they been followed.

He hoped they would be again.

 

[Roul]

"Of course, comrade," the reply came quick from the lips of Luther, his run slowing to a walk. Maille and plate rattled with every step forward. The lightning flickering along his blade suddenly went out.

Overhead, the skies grew dark with roiling stormclouds that cast a shadow upon them all. The wind picked up, making Luther's hair whip about his scarred face. Rain fell in a pitter-patter that intensified with every droplet until they seemed to ping off Urahil's plate like arrows.

"You think I would fight for my family after what it cost me?" Where a right arm should be, an empty maille sleeve flapped in the wind.

"But-" Thunder boomed, drowning out his words with the storm's raw fury.

Luther's lips twitched up in a smirk.

Electricity danced among the brooding clouds above, springing from stormhead to stormhead in a ballet that illuminated those below in fleeting flashes.

His lips moved again, soundless in the storm.

"Long live the king."

A bolt of jagged lightning rushed down from the heavens in an instant, summoned by Luther's will, and came straight for Isaac Rashford to smite him low in a strike that could shatter a hundred-year old oak and blow its bark off in a spray of superheated sap and steam. What more could it do to a man?

Sloan Thorne Talus Trajan Meng Karcus Thorn

 

[Sierra]

The Academy​

A strangled gasp left her throat as her eyes snapped open. Concentrating. Every ounce of the pain he funneled into her, she sent back to Archon Crane. As he fell to his knees, she rose to one of her feet. The students on the rebellion side were still fighting in the background. Bodies littered the training ground.

She made it to another foot, looming over the Archon that had made her and her friends’ lives a living hell. The one she’d had to sit in on meetings with since she joined the academy. Meetings about conditioning. Meetings about execution and hunting down of runaways. How to publicly punish students that showed resistance.

And she’d had to enact that punishment. Rebelling in her own way. Easing the pain of those she could as they were whipped or burned. Watching and waiting. Waiting for this moment.

And she couldn’t risk a glance to the others in the resistance. Those of the Underground. They knew their orders. Capture the student loyalists. Nullify their powers. Killing was a last resort. Luckily, her influence teaching the last few years had paid off. There weren’t many loyalist students left. But there were still some.

Her hand slid to a dagger at her belt as she dropped back to a knee to Crane. Blood pooled from her nose. Her head pounded. Her body ached as she continued to channel that feeling of pain into the body of the man who created it. Fingers curled around the fabric of his tunic as she tugged him closer.

His eyes stuttered open. Surprise and loathing across his face. “Impossible,” he rasped. “You’re no-ot s-stro-ong enough to…”

Sierra angled the blade upward and whispered in the Archon’s ear as she plunged it into his heart.

“This is for Hal.”

 

[Merosh Devathor]

Virak Estate

Merosh needed a break. At least a short one before he would go back out there. So he did not leave the Estate directly, rather he went to the kitchen first. The maids and cooks here were surprised at his appearance; a dreadlord, covered with stench, dirt and blood from the fight against the undead; but none dared to protest. He had to replenish his reserves, which he had mostly used up during the fight against the undead while using his physiomancy. Eating would take too long, but he had some supplements with him for such cases that would provide him with the most necessary like some vitamins, minerals, glucose, trace elements and so on. The only thing needed here was water to swallow.

The chef approached and asked if he could help him. Merosh demanded water and sat down on a stool. He eased his channel of strength and endurance as well as his flow of vision and sound. And as he did so, he could feel his body getting tired and his muscles weak. His eyesight blurred and his hearing deteriorated. Merosh sank down a little with a sigh. He had been pushing his physiomancy for too long now, he couldn't drain his body's reserves forever.

As the chef returned with a glass of water, Merosh did not immediately notice him. Only when he addressed him for the second time did Merosh raise his heavy head. He left the man standing and waiting while he reached into his side pocket to pull out a small vial with powdery contents. He emptied it over the glass, then took it and drank it in one go. He could literally feel his body eagerly absorbing the supplements. Merosh would be able to metabolize them quickly with his physiomancy.

He wiped the back of his hand over his mouth and put the glass back into the chef's hand. For a moment Merosh closed his eyes, sighed, then pushed his channel of strength and endurance again before he, as if suddenly recovered, stood up again and went on his way.

~​

Merosh really didn't know how Elise imagined him to find a certain person in the chaos. But he had asked around the estate for someone useful for this task and was lucky to meet a dreadlord who could scan and recognise auras within a certain radius. He did know the one of Val Pirian, so Merosh took this Dreadlord with him.

They made their way towards the Pirian Estate first. On the way there, his companion was already scanning the area. They avoided the fights so far, but weren't always able to do so, because rebels and loyalists alike were everywhere right now. But they managed it to get out of it relatively quickly so far.

Merosh raised his head as the sky darkened above them. One could hear thunder above the city and bursting stones within it, as if something had exploded. In the distance one could hear shouts, screams, the clanking of metal whenever weapons clashed. Fighting could be heard everywhere, even in empty streets.

"I've got him!", his companion mentioned and stopped in his movement. Merosh quickly turned his gaze to him while the first raindrops fell on them.

"Where?", he demanded to know. The other dreadlord looked around, seemed to coordinate himself before setting off in another direction. Merosh followed him right away. It began to rain while they came to a parallel street. There was indeed an inconspicuous person scurrying down the street.

"Over there."

Merosh frowned. The person there was Val Pirian? Why he was dressed like that? And what was he doing out there at all? Merosh would indeed not have recognised him, not at that distance. The person stopped when he saw them and changed direction. Did he wanted to avoid them?

"Hey!", Merosh shouted and walked towards Val at a faster pace. "Hold on! No need to run away. We ain't here to arrest you, but to escort you to the virak estate in the name of Lady Virak."

Val Pirian

 

[Zana]

Zana wanted to tell him these women hadn't been her friends but the lie died on her lips no sooner had the thought crossed her mind. They had been closer than friends. The sisters had fought beside her and Sloan, welcomed them into their tight family unit, and on more than one occasion had saved her life. That was the thing with Dreadlords that people overlooked or casually forgot about. They might have been able to carry out orders to kill a village or carry children off without a blink but that was because they believed in the righteousness of those orders. They believed without a doubt that their House cared for them and for Vel'Anir. For the majority of them, their duty was born from passion and not from a lack of humanity or caring. So bonds did grow amongst them. Friendships, sometimes something even more.

The shimmer of her changing skin was the brief warning she got as Cassie leapt on her from her left.

Zana ducked as the sword speared its way towards her neck, stepping onto her guard and grabbing a hold of her elbow. There was a flicker of surprise on the other woman's face before she was hurled off her feet and went hurtling into the other shimmering figure who had stepped forward to pincer Zana between them.

Joya didn't have a chance to move her spear.

The wordless scream of grief pierced the drone of battle as the spear drove through Cassie's heart and the Dreadlord slumped forward against her sister's shoulder. Joya wrenched her weapon free and desperately attempted to plug the wound with her own hands but it was too late. The sister gave a low moan and rocked her back and forth, pleading, whispering, screaming to the heavens above.

"Traitor! Kin-Killer!" Olya, blade still wet with Tessa's blood, spat. Zana shifted to keep both still alive sisters in her line of sight. Magic charged the air as Olya prowled towards her and the revolutionary let her own magic begin to build.

"I didn't want it to happen like this," Zana's voice broke. It could have been worse! She wanted to scream. The Generals had wanted to put them all to the blade, at least Zana had won them the right to choose. Joya rose to her feet covered in her sisters blood and fury burning in her eyes. One of the guards to her side went to step forward but Zana put a hand on his chest and pushed him back behind her. "Please, you can still-"

The sisters cut her words off as their forms shifted into perfect copies of Zana herself before throwing her own magic directly for her heart.

 

[Landon]

Anir Square - East End​

Landon didn't hesitate. He'd joined to protect. Serve. And even as the grief of losing one of his own had barely brushed his awareness his long strides swiftly stepped in front of Zana even as she pushed one of his guards back. In front of those unborn babes.

Jaw set beneath his busy beard. Hawk-like dark eyes saw his target. Bow and arrow still in hand, he released his last sungsteel arrow on his sungsteel bow at one of the Zana-copies just before the magical attack meant for the true Zana slammed into his chest. He wondered if the armor the blacksmith made would hold up to this magical attack.

He wondered what it would feel like to die.

 

[Zana]

"Landon!"

Zana had faced the blow of her own magic so calmly because she had known the purple energy, whatever it was, wouldn't have hurt her. It was born from the bond Talus had created and there was a deep sense of knowing in her heart that it wouldn't hurt their blood. But Landon? She rushed forward to catch him before he hit the ground, her jade green eyes wide with panic as she desperately searched for any sign of pain. She gave a relieved sigh when she saw the rise and fall of his chest as the energy peeled off him and disappeared into the ground beneath him. Family. It had recognised him as family.

The sisters were not as kind as Zana had been to let her have her moment with her friend. They used her distraction to their own advantage. Jaya-Zana stamped her foot down bringing up a chunk of the cobbled roads to launch in her direction whilst her sister levelled another streak of purple energy towards her other side.

Rage consumed her.

The rubble halted, quivering as it was caught between the two Dreadlords battle of magic and as Zana stood she caught the other ball of energy in her palm, sending it into the cobbles and turning them to dust.

"ENOUGH!" Her voice bounced off the walls. She hadn't wanted to hurt them. She hadn't wanted Cassie and Lottie's blood on her hands, women she had graduated the Academy with. Survived with. But she had known when she has agreed to this revolution her blade would not come out clean. It was time to stop sacrificing lives to save her own soul.

"Enough," she whispered beneath her breath and looked down at the Luana sigil on her chest. In one jerky movement she ripped it off. Jaya opened her mouth to sneer but it was quickly replaced by grim concentration as Zana launched her own bloody attack on the two women. Across the square they began to dance, gorging deep ruts in the earth and tearing buildings apart in their wake. Olya flickered in and out of view with her magic whilst Jaya kept her focus with her precise blows, attempting to pinser her between them which Zana was counting on.

There.

Olya flickered to her right and Zana's eyes blazed. Instead of vanishing once more the girl choked on some invisible force about her throat and kicked desperately as she was raised into the air. Jaya halted, her eyes wide before looking to Zana with hate.

"You advanced," she commented like one might comment on the weather. Her hands flexed on the shaft of her spear. As a Second Level Dreadlord Zana had only been able to use her TK on objects or inanimate things. Living tissue had always been out of her reach.

Until now.

Olya let out a blood curdling scream as her left arm began to snap and the skin at her shoulder tear. Jayas hands turned white with the force with which she held her weapon.

"We will relent. We will serve the... the new order," another scream as Zana closed her hand an inch closer into a fist. "Please! You've already taken two of my sisters. Zana for any love you might have held me, please--!"

"No," Zana's voice was colder than ice and she made it loud enough other Dreadlords fighting nearby would hear. "Because you won't stop. I see revenge already on your face and I cannot allow that. I gave you all a choice Jaya, and you chose to die."

Olya's scream became a blood curdling symphony as Zana's magic ripped her limbs apart. Her skin tore, muscles snapped and bones wrenched themselves free from their sockets spraying the ground below with blood. When she let the corpse drop it was little more than a caved in chest cavity and a face with empty sockets where the eyes had once been.

 

[Sloan]

Anir Square

I'm going to slit your throat personally...

"Come down here and do it then!" Sloan growled in exertion as she fought. "Fucking coward." she snarled, but her expression paused and her eyes flared as the massive wave of flame came hurtling toward her. She fell to a knee, as though ducking behind a shield that wasn't there, her teeth gritting as the flame washed around her like a flood, but the heat was exhausting.

When she rose her skin was slick with sweat and blackened with smoke. The fire caught across the square, licking playfully at wagons and stalls, creeping onto awnings and climbing in through the windows of homes and setting the city square alight with a ghastly orange grin. Then came rain, whipping at her face and washing rivulets of blood and dirt from her skin and hair. It all served to add to the chaos.

Sloan darted forward, her spear aiming at the red eye as it blinked menacingly at her. "The black eye!" she called to Thorne over the roar of thunder and crack of lightening. It was as she'd been about to glance toward the flash of light behind her that she caught sight of the guardsman tumbling along with Isbrand and she felt her chest tighten.

One thing at a time.. Sloan reminded herself at the distraction. Isbrand's projections were as strong as he was, and despite the urge to run to Talus, she couldn't leave this one until it was destroyed, knowing full well it's power would only grow in strength..

 

[Elise Virak]

Virak Estate - Back Entrance
Aisling Weiroon

"Aisling!" Elise practically rushed the girl, closing the gap between herself and her friend in an instant.

She wrapped her arms around the Corsair, squeezing her tight and practically lifting her off the floor as she held her close. It was a display of affection that caused the two servants in the room to gasp slightly, the sight of two children of Great Houses hugging being almost as startling as the revolution.

Elise was passed caring however.

The way of their ordinary lives was gone. Things were changing, and she was simply glad that her friend was alright. "Thank goodness you're alright."

She pulled back slightly, looking Aisling over to ensure that she carried no wounds. Her gaze then flickered over towards Loric who was standing a few feet away. He stared at her intently with a mixture of pride and what could only have been described as Passion.

The Dreadlord had taken Aisling into the Estate through a secret back entrance, avoiding the small crowd that had formed around the Virak Estate.

Elise looked back to Aisling, then frowned for a moment. A shaky breath escaped her lungs.

"It's...it's been a difficult day. I...I had to make a choice and...." Elise's frown deepened, The Baroness letting her voice shake slightly as she finally released her friend. "I'm glad you're here."

 

[Talus]

Anir Square

He should have seen it coming.

Should have known.

He was a dreadlord. He had been a loyal servant of House Urahil for a decade. He knew what they were like. What their quality was. Perhaps the optimism of the revolution had gotten the better of him, perhaps he'd thought Luther would be different, that he knew the pain of what it was to be a Dreadlord.

He'd been wrong.

The lightning came crashing down from the sky, aided by the whipping rains and dark clouds Isbrand had brought forth. Isaac raised his hand, tried to warp the earth around him, but it was too fast, too quick. There was a crack of thunder, a muted scream, and then a squelching thump as Isaac struck the cobbles.

"ISAAC!" Rage flooded through Bella in an instant, her voice crying out as she shifted and threw her hammer forward.

There was no taunt. No jeer. Nothing else except the name of her dead friend on her lips as she threw forward the heavy siege hammer and let it strike the ground. There was a thunderous echo, a waving crash, and then suddenly the cobbles beneath Luther's feet began to shift.

In an instant the ground beneath him shifted.

It did not rise up, but instead seemed to shatter.

The earth fell out from beneath Luther, a cascading pit opening up within a heartbeat. It seemed to tunnel further and further, and as the ground fell Bella rushed forward. Her boots thundered against the cobbles, a bounding leap sending her flying forward towards Luther.

Her hammer lashed forward, striking out with enough force to shatter steel.

Talus was falling.

The dust and debris surrounded him, the air seemed to warp. He could feel the rush of wind against him, the press of rain. His eyes snapped open, and then suddenly his entire body shifted once more. A ghostly blue form rushed from the cloud of dust, landing a few feet away from the crumbled building.

His body pulled back into reality just as he heard Sloan shout. 'The Black eye!'. His head whirled, quickly searching through the smouldering rubble of Anir Square until he spotted the two eyes floating besides one another.

Black and white Iris' showed through the din of the rain, slowly turning to face towards Sloan.

"Oh I will, sweetheart. Don't you worry. And when you lay broken on the ground, I'll dig out those lovely eyes of yours."​

The flickering image of Isbrand that was still standing besides Sloan, a wicked grin spreading across his face. Talus glanced at Zana's mother for a brief moment, and then suddenly snapped forward. He rushed over the broken cobbles and cracked earth, the wind and rain slashing him as he sprinted across Anir Square.

Neither of the eyes turned towards him, focused instead on Sloan and the threat she posed.

It was the opening he needed.

Talus leaped forward, his fingers outstretched. His body snapped from reality the wisp of his body appearing as he charged. His ghost appeared besides the black eye, fingers suddenly opening. He appeared back in reality, fist closing around the black eye and crushing it with a squelch.

The white eye immediately turned, looked up at Talus, then flickered. There was a pulse, and the Dreadlord was sent hurtling across the Square.

The Blue eye flickered for a brief moment, looking form Thorne, to Sloan, to Talus. It seemed to debate for just a brief moment, and then a pulse ran over the color of it's iris.

A brief moment passed, just a brief moment, and then suddenly the rain seemed to stall within the air. It stopped, as though time itself had come to a close, and then suddenly the droplets pulled towards one another.

Dozens upon dozens of shards of ice began to form, slivers sharper than the keenest blade. They flickered, and then all of a sudden shot forward. Rushing like knives towards Thorne, Sloan, and Talus. Keen to vivisect them and impale them without hesitation.

Isbrand himself was nowhere to be seen, yet the eyes still acted, moved, and the rubble the Archon had been cast into stirred.

A rock was thrown to the side, and a laugh echoed in the square.

 

[Evangeline]

Perfect timing, perfect placement. The war pick struck home and sunk past armor and stony flesh, and Ademar had fallen for her feint completely. For a moment, she smirked to herself. This would be too easy after all. No slow brute, however mighty, was a match for Evangeline's incredible speed. That thought distracted her just long enough to make a critical error: letting Ademar grab hold of the war pick.

Before she could wrench it free and have another go at him, he seized it and launched a brutal punch her way. Her magic gave her speed, but her reaction time was still only human. All she could do was lift her arm to block and lean the direction the punch was coming from...

*CRACK*

The force of the blow sent her tumbling, and she tucked and rolled to skid to a stop on one knee. Even through her armor, she could feel the throbbing pain of the injury Ademar had just left on her forearm. She was mostly fine, but she needed that pick back if she was going to do any significant amount of damage to him. Though with his warhammer on the ground, perhaps...

"That's no way to speak to a lady. I thought House Virak would've trained their dogs a bit better." She cracked back at him. This, too, was calculated. An angry enemy was a distracted enemy. If she could provoke him, he'd be off of his game. She subtly scooped a handful of dirt off the ground as she rose to her feet.

Once again Evangeline dove forward, looking to make a run for the pick still embedded in Ademar's side. Once close, however, she'd try to throw the dirt in his eyes at mach speed, then grab for the warhammer instead.

 

[Thorne]

The earthen eye was down. Progress. That meant that Isbrand wasn't infallible, that these constructs could be destroyed. If that was the case, then Thorne would just have to pluck these eyes out, one by one.

Yet, despite that small victory, things only seemed to be going from bad to worse. Isbrand now had reinforcements, only barely being contained by rebel allies. Talus was sent tumbling down and aside. Another rebel Dreadlord had shown up, but would that be enough to turn the tide against the archon? There was so much to consider, choices to make, tactics to employ.

And what was all this about, anyways? Had they only been fighting an illusion all this time? Perhaps, but the eyes were quite real. They had to be the focus. The group had to ignore the new loyalist arrivals and focus on the Archon. It was the only way this would come to a positive end.

"The black eye!"

Thorne's own eyes snapped to attention on that obsidian orb, only to watch Talus make a run for it.
"No, you fool!" He shouted after him. Too late. Talus destroyed it, sure, but Thorne could do little but watch as the man's body was tossed across the square like a child's plaything. "Shit."

He yanked his hook free from the now-brittle wall and pulled both it and the counterweight back to him, then ran for Talus. His orders were to keep the man alive, after all...

Then the blue eye went into action. That slowing of the rain, like the dilation of time, then the freezing that followed. Thorne had little time to react. What he was about to do he knew was a foolish gambit, but one he had to take; there was no time to move Talus for cover, and if he didn't do this it would be damn near impossible to pop another one of these infernal eyes.

As the ice shards exploded outwards Thorne stood in front of Talus and howled in pain as he sent a massive charge of negative-magic into his chain. With all his might, he spun both the hook and counterweight as fast as he could, forming crackling, crimson sawblades as they whipped before him in wide arcs.

He'd be a living shield if he had to. His chains and the negative-magic they carried would serve as a wall to stop every last icy dagger that came this way. It hurt like hell. Keeping this amount of charge up for this long was incomparably painful, like the flesh on his arms was being flayed off the bone over and over again in mere seconds.

"Ffffuuuuck--" Thorne cried out as he continued whirling the chains. He could feel the brutal cold as the shards of ice smashed against his makeshift barrier and splintered apart, shedding frost onto his face. The moment he felt the barrage let up he finished his thought.
"YOU!"

Thorne whipped both ends of the chain sideways to end the spin, then, with a deafening crack, lashed them down in a rippling wave towards the blue eye. Both hook and spiked weight, still brimming with Thorne's antimagic venom, bore down on the eye at a sickening pace. Pluck the eyes...one by one.

 

[Val Pirian]

"Hold on! No need to run away. We ain't here to arrest you, but to escort you to the virak estate in the name of Lady Virak."

Val had been keen to dart away again at the sound of voices shouting his way, but taking a moment to register what was actually said gave him pause. These Dreads seemed to know who he was far more personally than the last little patrol, and at the very least these ones actually looked to be wearing Virak heraldry. The noble hesitantly let the search party approach.

"Aye, that's close enough." He hollered at Merosh and company and held a hand up once they'd gotten within roughly five yards of him. "I'd be foolish to reject the offer of a safe escort to Elise, but I'd be even more of a bloody fool to trust you blindly."

He put a hand on his hip and elaborated.
"By all means, lead the way, but be aware: I know the way there all too well. You keep your distance and go the right way? Fantastic. Get too close or take any odd detours? I'm gone." Val warned sternly, dropping any usual air of humor he'd normally kept about him. "And if you really are here on dear Elise's behalf, well...it'll be your head if something should happen to me."

Assuming Merrosh agreed, Val let the Dread lead the way. This way, at a moment's notice, Val could pop another one of his stored tricks: magical wings. When the old fight-or-flight instinct kicked in he could literally fly away.

 

[Yrael]

The throne room was in shambles. Veiny cracks ran across the pock-marked ceiling, and the dust and scorch marks all but totally obscured the faded paintings upon it. The sounds of clashing steel and dying men were drowned out by the thunderous booms of lightning, sonic force, and sheer stony weight crashing all around them.

Artur had earned his rank well, but the man was aging. Serving the royal house meant he had seen fewer wars than most, and his gray hairs were a thing few dreadlords lived to experience. Nevertheless, he was single handedly keeping the two lesser dreadlords at bay.

Yrael shoved a hurtling boulder aside and countered with an invisible bullet of impact, but the archon had already moved. He skated across the floor, and Yrael saw that he did not walk but flowed on a layer of rubble and sand torn from the very floor.

”Eric!” but his partner was already ahead of him. A tremendous bolt of lightning lit up the hall and impacted at the Archon’s feet, the sand that moved them now turned to glass. Taking advantage of the momentary delay, Yrael threw an arm in an uppercut, shoving as hard as he could from beneath the Archon in an effort to tear him from his legs.

The entire archon lifted from the floor, carrying a chunk of hit by his ankles. Artur had managed to spare his legs by separating it, but he crashed heavily to the floor. A wall of marble rose to defend against the lightning strike that would have ended his life, and by the time Yrael smashed it aside, the archon had risen.

To Yrael and Eric’s horror, his feet were free, and the glass that had encased them now floated over the archon’s shoulders. Fractured, sharpened, and aimed with deadly purpose, that Artur send dozens of sand-glass daggers whistling towards them. Yrael’s force barrier could not block them all. He was too tired, and they came too quickly. He saw the blood staining his arms, legs, and side before he felt the razor-thin cuts. One came so close to his head that a lock of his hair fluttered to the ground, and when the barrage ceased his legs were shaking.

There were no more cracks of lightning. Eric had fallen, and dark blood flowed strongly from a deep slice through his neck. Artur was panting almost as hard as Yrael, but he resumed his stance.

“Surrender, traitor, and you will be granted a swift death.”

Yrael did not answer. It was rare for him to sweat like this and he did not like it. The knights behind him had quieted, but he could hear Ulf’s voice. It seemed the two elite guards had been defeated, but the cost was surely too high. Yet, in the brief lull, he could not hear conflict from outside the throne room any longer. Either the revolution within the palace had been quelled, or they had taken it.

A dozen scenarios flickered through his mind. He did not particularly like the one he chose, but it seemed the least likely to get him killed.

The archon opened his mouth to speak again, but Yrael yelled in effort and hurled and arm forwards in an overhand throw. Eric’s limp body crunched as the sudden force took it sailing towards Artur. As the archon moved aside, the second burst erupted from inside.

Eric’s body burst, coating Artur in blood, blinding him with hot viscera. The moment’s shock was the only chance Yrael had to seize hold of the already-crumbling ceiling and rip it down. He could never have achieved it had Artur not already destroyed half of it, could never have mustered the strength after such a battle had the supports not already been near breaking. Yrael tugged at the last strings of support, and they fell.

He didn’t know if Artur survived, but Ulf and the knights almost certainly would not have. All he heard from the small cocoon of stone he had blasted for himself out of the floor was the deafening crash… and then silence.

 

[Karcus Thorn]

Karcus focussed himself. For his sorcery to take effect, he needed all his faculties. As he began to mutter the numerous words that his father had taught him, his vision shifted; the battlefield became as dark as coal, and the blood as white as daylight. He reached out, tendrils of red - naked to the eye - rushed to strangle and contort Isaac, like hands tightly grasping a neck, seeking to extinguish all courage and forward-motion.

The golem could offer no wall against his will. They began to twist his mind - to pollute it with fear; of his comrades falling on the field of war, of never returning home. As the thoughts of despair and desparity continued to poison his mind, Karcus could feel his sinews, his fibres, his being press against his armour, the rivers of red running through his veins pump faster and faster, his chest pounding in his ears.

His grip tightened around his weapon, the leather buckling within his hand. As the doubt and fear grew greater, the strength of his will and power grew equally. He began to rush.

Nothing will deny our vengeance.

The words collided against the walls of Karcus's mind, brought to peace only by the shattering screech of Luther's lightning. The earth Isaac deemed to surround him provided no defence against the thunder that sought to melt metal and flesh.

And succeeded.

As the scream of the doomed man extinguished as quickly as it was lit, Karcus stopped in his tracks.

Bastard got there first.

Sawblades of red were strung across the air, barrages of ice poured from above, and his focus turned towards the chaos. But as he sought to project his emotional manipulation onto another of the revolters, he felt a shift underneath him, if only subtle. He whipped his head around to see the ground beneath Luther's feet crumble from underneath him, the cobbles sinking and twisting to meet the form the Blacksmith sort to create. He looked again, towards the battle raging between Isbrand and the others raged on, and then back to Luther.

No.

He planted his feet, as his sight began to mist over in crimson. He halted the odd words required of his incantation, drawn away from the continuing conflict. A slight of blood trickled from his nose. His brow furrowed, and his sword-arm arched itself as his other pointed towards the Blacksmith, still aimed towards Luther. His hips began to turn, his arms tense, watching his foe grow ever closer to his only ally.

He let out an earth-shattering scream, as his sword-arm violently threw itself forward. His weapon came careening from his hands like an arrow from a longbow, travelling at deafening speed. Karcus could feel his armour shake and dent around him as the force of the toss took him off his feet, debris retreating from him. Waves of dust flew in all directions, the tip of the blade aiming a cruel edge at the woman who sought to relieve Luther of his life.

 

[Sloan]

Anir Square

That grin. She'd seen it many times and had always pitied those that the archon had doomed with it. Her expression remained stoic and determined at his threats, and she thought of the countless bodies she'd seen with their eyes plucked from their skulls. Sloan's jaw clenched as she suppressed a shudder, but she couldn't calm her racing heart. Any who didn't fear Isbrand was a fool, and she had never been a fool.

"You won't see sunrise." she told him through gritted teeth, her weapon pointed at him. She saw Talus move in her periphery, heard Thorne yell, and her gaze shot to the white eye as it looked toward the commotion. She spun instantly toward it, slashing her spear upward through the air to slice the eye clean through.

The white eye was down, but the action would cost her. White hot pain seared through her as she failed to throw up a shield in time to stop the shards of ice tearing through left side, lodging in her shoulder and thigh and slashing across her side. Sloan fell with a muted cry and pounded her fist into the cobbles as she swore loudly.

Talus.

She looked up to watch the scenes around her, Issac had fallen, Bella's fury was palpable, and Talus wasn't moving. The pile of rubble however, was, and that laugh that came from it sent a militia of chills marching across her spine. As Thorne attacked the final eye, Sloan dragged herself to her feet, yanking the melting shards of ice that protruded from her flesh, her left leg buckling slightly at the fresh shock of pain. Hot blood rushed to meet the ground as she stumbled toward the shuddering pile of stone, her spear javelined at the first sight of life as Isbrand laughed his way free of it.

 

[Talus]

Anir Square


There was a pulse to the side, the wavering air rushing through the square as Karcus launched his sword like a spear.

Bella didn't see it, didn't have the wherewithal to glance to the side, but she didn't need to her. She was a Dreadlord of the Fourth, not fit for combat according to the Proctors and not meant for the front-lines, but they had been wrong.

Her talents had never lain in magics focused around direct attacks.

Her gifts came in preparation.

She had not cracked the earth. Her magics had not broken the cobbles or ripped away the earth. It had been her hammer, forged and created by her own hand. Infused with magics months before this had ever even begun.

Just as her armor had been.

As the sword approached her the ornately gilded armor flickered, a sheen running over it's edge just as the blade approached. From it's length sprouted a steel wing, peeling away from her body and suddenly jutting outward. It struck against the earth, pushing her upward and launching her up and over the soaring blade.

Her body twisted as the blade continued on it's path, flying over the battlefield and striking a building on the other side of Anir Square where the force of it's impact exploded outward in a wave of shattered debris.

Bella twisted in the air, and then brought herself down so her Hammer would smash into the top of Luther's skull.

Talus lay upon the ground. Bruises appeared upon his flesh, cuts rounded nearly every exposed part of his body, and shallow breaths pulled his chest up and down. He did not hear Thorne shouting at him, he did not see the Blue Eye lashed into a thousand pieces.

He did not seen Sloan rend the white eye.

Nor did he hear the laughter from beneath the rubble.

His ears were ringing. Pain lanced through his body. The broken blade he had held so close was sent a dozen meters away, and agony wrought through him. A grimace pulled over his expression, hand pushing meekly against the cobbled ground.

Get up. He told himself. Get up. Get up. Get up.

Talus could hear his muscles scream as he slowly pushed himself up from the ground.

The spear went flying. Launched from Sloan's hand as a figure pulled itself free of the rubble. It cut through the air like a missile, sent with such speed and voracity that it seemed almost impossible that it would not hit it's target.

Yet a foot from his face it stopped.

It was a sudden, jarring halt, as if the tip of the spear had struck solid steel. There was no sound as it halted, no motion of impact. Nothing at all. The only noise was laughter, that cruel cackle which seemed to echo over the square.

"Oh I assure you." Isbrand said through his laughter, the last of the cloud of dust dying away around him as the rain slashed down within the square.

One of his hands stuck in the air, finger pointed as it slowly spun. The Spear seemed to tremor within the air for a moment, and then slowly it began to turn around. His other hand reached up towards the tattered rags of his Dreadlord's coat, grasping at the blackened cotton and ripping it free. "I'll see it better than most."

Isbrand laughed, and as the cloth fell to the floor the reason for his humor became clear.

Between hardened muscle and pale flesh came a picture found only within a horror show. Dozens upon dozens of eyes sat inlaid within Isbrand's flesh. Each of them a different color, each of them peering a different way.

Five closed lids lay tucked away on his flesh, each of them never to open again. Isbrand tilted his head, smiling.

His finger quirked just a bit, and then suddenly the spear shot forward. It launched with the same voracity in which Sloan had thrown it, biting through the air in an instant as it headed to impale the First Level Dreadlord.

The same instant four of the eyes embedded within the Archon's flesh seemed to turn their attention towards Thorne and Talus in the distance. There was a flicker, and then the earth beneath them grew dark. They would feel a lethargy, a tiredness. A wash of fear that was not their own.

Then Dozens of tendrils sprouted from the field of black.

They lashed forward, grappling, grabbing, and smashing at the two men.

Sloan | Thorne | Karcus Thorn | Luther Urahil​

 

[Landon]

There was an invisible push against his chest. The next moment he was staring up at Zana and then the next he was sitting up on the ground as she took care of the other two. A grunt left his throat as he stood, trying to shake of the relatively harmless effect of the magical blast. Left his body a bit tingly and slightly numb.

He still wasn't sure...what happened. If it had been the magic-made armor, Zana, or something else. Didn't waste much time trying to figure it out.

Especially not when he saw that carcass of a body.

He grimaced.

He'd seen some messed up shit in war. A lot of it. Especially around Dreadlords. And this, this was going to stay at the top of his list for a long, long time. And he prayed to any gods that were listening that nothing ever topped this.

His bow had left his hands when the magic had hit. He scooped it up and shouldered it.

"Other end of the square," he grunted at Zana, heading that way already. Pointedly, not looking at the remnants of the dreadlords that had attacked them. "They need our help." He had a feeling Talus was there. Others.