Fable - Ask The Unblessed Road

[Mikko Cendrillon]

Mikko had not known the severity of the questionable safety of the trade routes south of Valenntenia. The rumours were quite hushed before Lale Carvyre's return, who had seemed to find allies within the Vanguard in the wake of her father's misdeeds. Mik avoided Carvyre at all costs when she made her daily visits to the barracks in Old Town. he put his hand up that morning for the first patrol outside the city, ensuring the roads ahead were safe for the traders to go about their business.

Bandits had been reported up and down each road leading to Valenntenia, and the Vanguard figured word about their thinning numbers had gotten out and made some misfortunate souls brave. The Guardians of the Runestones had once been of renowned stories, keeping the area this side of the Steppes safe, but now a number of settlements stretching past the might of Valenntenia's shadow have been under attack.

"Road blockage!" Came the shout from ahead of the small group that headed west.

The company of five became alert, watching ahead as a woman crawled from the wrecked wagon. There was a wound at her head, painting the left side of her face in crimson and her arms collecting small cuts and shards of glass that glint in the early sun.

"Please. I need assistance!" She croaked.

Unsteadiness washed each Vanguard soldier one by one, uncertain if this was a trick or not. If she were innocent, then she needed immediate care.

"What happened here?" Mikko called out, second from the front and pausing on his steed.

"Bandits! They took my husband! We were on the way to Valenntenia to make the market, but they ripped out the back of the wagon, rifled through our things, and then they took my husband. He was not here when I woke... but as soon as I heard movement, I mustered up the strength to get out from the wreckage." She could not longer support herself standing up, and slowly but ungracefully fell to her knees.

Mikko could only think of his mother doing such a thing after a long day. Cendrillon sighed and began to dismount, gloved hands doing his subtle checks for his weapon, his dagger, and finally the blessed stone his sister had bought from a beggar outside the local House of Blessings.

With everything present to guide him, he made his way over to the woman.

"Keep your wits strong, Ser Cendrillon." Came the low warning of one of the men that rode out with him.

"Will do." Was the gruff answer from Mikko. It was not his first time encountering strangeness on these roads. His second year with the Vanguard had seen his unit be the unfortunate targets to being overpowered by rogues, but ultimately, they had fought off the offenders and Mikko came home with a scar that almost claimed his eye. How his mother cried seeing her baby scarred.

The woman was weakening before his eyes, and Cendrillon hurried his steps, kneeling to place a hand on her. "Are you right, miss? Will you be able to make it to see the medics at the barracks?"

A bloodied hand shout out and grasped Mikko's gloved hand, the strength of it tightening and tightening until Mikko could not longer hold it in and cried out in pain. He succumbed to the stinging senses wrapping around him, and soon, he became paralysed. He doubled over, fell to his side and witnessed the rest of his unit fall prey to the same fate.

Five of Valenntenia's finest, brought down by a woman and her magic. Mikko could not think, not when the stinging sensations had not ceased, not until his mucles felt as if they would cease any moment. Men came into his vision, appearing from gods know where and began tying the Vanguard and hauling them into another wagon. They spoke amongst themselves, but he could not concentrate hard enough to listen in. All he could think of, what now?

 

[Villam Regis]

Five of the Vanguard's finest, vanishing without a trace on a routinely traveled route? Villam had heard of the Bandit problem as often as any other, but the severity of the uptick in road crime hadn't quite dawned on him, it seemed. Though often overlooked as mere support for the Guardians, The Vanguard was not a force to be trifled with. Villam knew that himself, having served as one before being assigned to Passion.

If any ordinary road scum could subdue a group of Vanguard, then things had indeed been left unchecked for far too long. One reluctant point to Carvyre, he supposed.

Nevertheless, he wasn't about to let this problem continue to worsen any further. As soon news hit town regarding the disappearance of a group of fine soldiers, Villam prepared himself for the inevitable damage control mission from his father. Lale's stirring of the pot was enough to make him a deal more lenient when it came to deploying Guardians, and her incendiary words at that paltry little gathering she'd held had made The Absalon's detractors, few they may be, all the more vigilant for possible chinks in his armor.

So it was that Villam and a small detachment of his comrades now thundered down the unblessed road that their Vanguard compatriots had likely found themselves waylaid on. The dirt road ahead of them was marked only by the deep imprints of both hoof and wheel; So far Regis had seen hide nor hair of any ne'erdowell or their victims. Unsurprising-- It was extremely rare for Guardians to be attacked, and even the most hair-brained of criminals knew better.

Then again, the same could have been said of the Vanguard not too long ago... What had put such a fire in their bellies?

"Keep your eyes peeled, people." Villam called to the others, tugging back on the reins of his horse to slow his pace. There was the slightest hint of magic in the air, enough that he felt the last vestiges of a hex crawling up the back of his neck as it fizzled away into nothingness. "We can't afford to lose these men. Especially the Cendrillon. Ancients know the kind of nightmare we'll be facing if one of them gets killed by lowly bandits."

The Cendrillon family was a staple in the Vanguard, regarded as the prime example of what a Valenntenian soldier should be. Mikko may as well have been an unofficial poster child for a whole generation, with his traditionally good looks, outstanding marks, and raw talent. He probably drew a fair number of the current recruits in training back home.

"Something happened here." Villam grumbled, eyeing some leftover debris from the elaborate setup strewn across the path way. "Recently."

 

[Mordred]

"Yes, I'm sure half the population of Valenntenia would die of a broken heart," Mordred murmured quietly enough that only the Vanguard member to his right seemed to hear from the twitch of their lips. The Guardian of the Blood Stone had nothing against the Cendrillion soldier. By all accounts he was a shining example of what the Vanguard could and should be, but Mordred had had more than one patient admitted to the hospital who had climbed a wall, or not looked where they were going, or simply fainted, because of Mikko Cendrillion.

Mor would have been more than happy to have given this particular mission a miss as he was with all missions that might mean he had to touch the power of the Rune in his possession. Unfortunately he had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time, having been mounted and headed in this very direction when the group had caught up to him upon the road. He hadn't had the heart to tell the relieved Vanguard member who had first approached that he hadn't been coming to help. Moss hunting seemed a rather pathetic excuse.

With the rest he dismounted but instead of looking at the destroyed wagon or scuffed footmarks, he trailed over to a patch of grass at the edge of the road and crouched. There, upon the blades, dangled three droplets of blood. He gently scooped them onto the bud of his thumb and brought them to his light with a touch of wariness.

"There was only one person wounded," the pulsing in his head told him the bloodied handprint on the wagon belonged to the same person as this. "And I don't think they were a member of the Vanguard," for the blood certainly wasn't Valenntenian.

 

[Mabbon Dreierg]

'Is that a hint of jealousy I hear in your voice, friend Mordred?' Hood up and eyes down, Mabbon slid from his saddle to join his fellow Guardian by the roadside. The Vanguard assigned to him did the same, taking hold of his mount's bridle before the damned thing decided to wander off on its own in search of something to chew on. Grass, for instance.

Or Vanguard corpses.

'No point searching the carriage!' He called out to Villam, smiling at the gruff tone with which the Guardian spoke. 'Whoever it belonged to is long gone, as are the people who took it from them.' Wandering over, Mabbon squatted down by the upturned carriage to get a closer look at the tracks. Angle's all off, he thought, noting how the wheels had skewed and straightened as if driven there on purpose.

More tracks led away from the scene.

Wheels and hooves. So, well-equipped bandits? Mabbon huffed. Straightening up, the sunlight making him wince, he turned to regard Mordred as the man announced his findings. 'What do you reckon? Damsel in distress?' It was the oldest trick in the book, one the Cendrillon fool had no doubt fallen for.

'A damsel capable of casting spells, say.' His eyes darted to Villam.

 

[Malik]

It hadn't taken long for word to reach Malik on the unfortunate fate his brother had befallen. Not just his twin, but four others. One man might be easily taken on the road, but several trained soldiers? No, something else was at play here. He knew his brother, he would not go down easily. He knew his fellow soldiers, there was no chance in hell they were just gone.

Malik was of course on of the first to volunteer his name for the search. Though he was not overly familiar with the current Guardians, he knew that traveling with them could be helpful, or hurtful depending on which ones were selected. His family was well versed in every known aspect of the Guardians, it was necessary. Besides, the vanguard had been pairing with the Guardians lately, extra safety measures as times were uncertain.

He had ridden silently amidst the men, his helm shadowing his face as their horses kicked up dust. He said not a word at first, as the spoke on his brother and his family. His lip slowly began to curl in distaste. he was a happy go lucky man, but this was his family, these people didn't even know Mikko.

Finally, he slid his visor up, casting a look of disdain at Villam. "I'm pretty sure lowly bandits wouldn't have gotten ahold of a Cendrillon so easily, let alone four other members of our Elite vanguard. Seems a bit unlikely doesn't it." Normally his lips would be turned up in an easy smile, but at this point he was just annoyed. He would be giving his brother hell too, when they found him.

The reached what seemed to be the spot the vanguard fell, and like the others, Malik slid easily from his steed to observe clues. It was obvious something strange was afoot, to all present, this was no mere casual bandit setup. "Trickery and magic would easily explain them being overpowered easily. But why go through all the trouble to go after soldiers?"

Mikko Cendrillon Villam Regis Mordred Mabbon Dreierg

 

[Mikko Cendrillon]

Mikko strained to open his eyes when he heard voices, felt someone move beside him. He was met with rocky terrain, nothing he recognised close to Valenntenia. There was no clear indication of a landmark, something to tie to where they might be. So he turned his head, and that had been his first mistake - besides falling prey to a damsel in not distress- as his vision blurred and he felt as if he spent the night drinking the tavern dry.

"They poured some water into our mouths a few minutes ago. I got a little bit of it... so I am not feeling how you are looking, Mik." Came a voice beside him. When his head cleared, Mikko took a glance around and saw four other Vangaurds in his presence. All five of them were tied up, left to hold themselves up while being sat on the rough and stony ground.

"Have you spoken to them? Did the captors say what they wanted?" His mouth felt like it was not his! Unable to slap his hand to his cheek, he instead dropped his gaze to his lap, using his peripherals to scope out more of the scene.

The woman he had gone to aide earlier had draped herself across a large boulder, an arm clung over her face to protect it from the blaring sun. A man sat below her, leaning back onto the solid form and read what looked to be a book, or a letter... it was hard to get the right angle to make it out.

"They have not said a thing."

"Hey! What are you waiting for? Why are we here?" Called out one of the larger Vanguard soldiers. Mikko raised his head, resisting the urge to shake it clear after the dose of drugged water made him feel off course.

Villam Regis
Mordred
Mabbon Dreierg
Malik

 

[Villam Regis]

"Unlikely, perhaps..." Villam responded to the Cendrillon brother who'd so vehemently insisted on coming along. Not that the Passion Guardian particularly blamed the young man for wanting to find his brother. "But it is a possibility we must nevertheless consider. The road bandits have been growing more devious, and that they may be enlisting the help of mages sets a dangerous precedent."

Regis watched both Malik and the others scour the scene from the back of his horse, his skills less suited for tracking than theirs. Through their efforts, a picture had begun to be painted of what had perhaps befallen the missing Vanguard, and despite Malik's protests, it was beginning to seem that Mikko and his men had been deceived. Not only deceived, but captured.

Nodding towards Mabbon and Mordred's reports of their findings, Villam finally swings a leg over and slides from his own horse, stepping forward into the space between the wrecked wagon and the spot where Mordred had discovered some spilled blood. "There must have been a lot of them to pull this off. The Vanguard would have put up a fight, but that there's so little blood suggests they were outnumbered and overwhelmed quickly." Villam turned his stern gaze towards Malik. "It also means your brother is fine. If they were aiming to harm, they wouldn't have restrained themselves from inflicting wounds, and Mordred would be finding much more than he has."

Of course, that left the question of 'why' they'd done it, but Villam didn't much care about that. The only thing that mattered was that five of their men had been taken, and the task of saving them now fell to him and his comrades.

"Mabbon, can you tell which direction they went?"

Mikko Cendrillon
Mabbon Dreierg
Mordred
Malik

 

[Mordred]

The Guardian of the Blood rune chuckled at Mabbon's jape; it was well known Mor preferred solitude. If he had gaggles of women following him about the town like the Cendrillon brothers, he might never leave his house.

As he suspected after finding such little spilt blood there was little else that was to be found in the wreckage. The odd items were simple traveller wares any person would have on them when trading from town to town. There were prints but they scuffed over one another so frequently it was hard to pinpoint a direction. He suspected, too, they had done so deliberately. There was no chance that this was coincidental. Whoever had planned this had known whose soldiers they were taking. Mor just couldn't work out why. They had to know Guardians would be sent after them, surely?

"That suggests they want us to come after them, Villam," he cautioned the younger man softly. The droplet of blood still clung to his thumb and with care he took out a vial and let it slither inside. If Mabbon couldn't track them, perhaps he could. "We need to be cautious. And smart. These could very well be the same people who attacked Dorian."

 

[Mabbon Dreierg]

'Oh, I don't doubt it, Mordred.' Even the most desperate of bandits would have thought twice about attacking a Vanguard patrol. What had occurred here had been orchestrated. All the best ambushes were. 'As to your question, Villam, yes, I can!' Spinning about, Mabbon walked a dozen paces down the road, then, a dozen more. Just to be sure.

'A wagon with six or seven mounted escorts,' he said, his rain cape snapping in the wind as he turned to regard the high ground. 'Heading that a-way.' It was hard to discern the tracks, mixed as they were. This road saw more than its fair share of traffic coming to and from Valenntenia. But Mabbon had always had a nose for this sort of thing.

The ambush site stunk to high heaven.

'Chances are we'll be heading into a fight. Assuming, of course, that they don't try to use the hostages as human shields.' Mabbon had seen their kind before. The cowardly kind, who used innocent people as arrow-sponges. Now, the Vanguard might not have been innocent per se, but for the most part they were good men. Stout defenders of Valenntenia and its people. Mabbs was loath to see any of them perish.

Climbing back into the saddle, the half-orc took point.

Mikko Cendrillon Malik Villam Regis

 

[Malik]

The Guardian of Passion, he just wasn't getting it. This was not the result of mere bandits, mages or not. This was plotted and purposeful, there was no way in Hell that the men fell to some roadside banditry that easily. He knew those men, Villam didn't, and he was finding himself disliking the man more and more during this rescue mission.

Malik quietly took in the information they were slowly picking up from the site. Mordred's findings were a bit of a relief. Little blood meant that more than likely no one had died, yet. This fact, Villam pointedly directed to the young Vanguard. He had to bite his tongue, wanting to retort smartly to the Guardian, his irritated thoughts interrupted by Mabbon and Mordred conversing.

He smelled a trap, a trap for whom though? It had begun to be fact that The Absolom had been pairing Vanguard soldiers with Guardians for protection. Something, or someone was after them it seemed. It was dangerous, if the stones landed in the wrong hands..He almost wished no Guardians had even come on this mission. Even if the soldiers died, at least the worry of losing a stone carrier wouldn't be there.

"We need to be extra careful then, I have a sneaking suspicion that there is way more to this than what meets the eye." It was an echo of what Mordred had said, and he hoped that the Guardians were prepared. Even if they had to flee to keep the stones safe, that's what mattered. He slid easily back into his saddle, his mouth a grim line, his hand ready to grasp his weapon at any moment. "The Vanguard serves the Guardians, remember that." He looked pointedly at each of them, hoping his point had gotten across.

Mabbon Dreierg Villam Regis Mordred Mikko Cendrillon

 

[Mikko Cendrillon]

"Psst! Brasser!" The Vanguard Lieutenant beside him stirred. "I think I recognise these guys. One of them, at least."

"You sure?"

"Certain. He's cut his hair since, but that looks like a friend of Vash Howells, who is a friend of the C--"

"Carvyres." Brasser swore. "You think the bitch did this? Set things up?"

Mikko shook his head. "That family is smart. Lale possibly even smarter. We need to find out more before building a case against her."

"Wouldn't that be rich of her to mastermind our kidnapping to prove the Vanguard needs more resources?" He gruffed.

"Yeah... would hate to see into her mind..." Mikko knew it was not a welcoming thought. He remembered what Lyta had said, that her words were dangerous to the Guardians and the Stones they protected.

Villam Regis Mordred Mabbon Dreierg Malik

 

[Villam Regis]

'A wagon with six or seven mounted escorts,'

Villam's gaze narrowed, his tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth. There had been a lot of opposition. Contrary to what Malik believed, Villam wasn't in the habit of underestimating the Vanguard, and he was well aware of the implications that this scene presented. He hadn't spoken to the possibility of anything more than bandits so that they did not get tied up in speculation that led to foolish attempts to plan two steps ahead.

But that possibility was there, and it was a grim one at that.

"It doesn't matter if it's a trap, or if they're waiting for us." Villam decided, as he climbed back onto his horse. Mabbon and Mordred made excellent points, and Malik's caution was warranted. Ultimately, though, such factors didn't weigh into what they needed to do. "We don't leave men behind, and we don't abandon our mission. Every second we worry is another that Mikko and his men are in danger."

Turning his head to his half-orc comrade, Villam nods. "Guardian Dreirg, you have the lead. Let's follow this trail and see what we're dealing with." The only other option would be to report back empty-handed, an act which would damage the credibility of The Guardians even more in such a volatile time. It was entirely possible that whoever was behind this act knew that every bit as well as he did.

"We still have the advantage, people." He called to the lot of them as they mounted up to pursue their captured brothers-in-arms. "We're Guardians, and whoever is waiting for us has no idea which of us has been deployed. They can't prepare for powers they aren't privy to."

Villam of Passion, Mabbon of the Darkness, and Mordred of Blood.

Well, he'd an inkling Mordred would be averse to using his powers for combat, if possible.

Mordred Mabbon Dreierg Mikko Cendrillon Malik

 

[Mordred]

Mordred stifled a sigh and glanced up along the road in the direction he had been heading. There was a case of the Scarlet fever going around a village not too far from here. He had hoped to have been there and back before the day was out. The Vanguard soldier who had been assigned to him for his protection gave him a grim smile when their eyes clashed. The Bloodstone carrier knew that if he requested it, they could move on and leave the rest to this mission, yet they would both be distracted. It had not been that long ago that a Guardian was killed. What if this was connected in some way?

"Why do I feel like that was a threat?" he murmured just low enough for Mab to hear, in response to the Cendrillion twin's words. He had an odd sense the younger lad would quite literally beat them if they got themselves hurt which seemed a oxymoron in and of itself. Remounting up he fell in with the other Guardians and their respective guards.

"Have either of you fought a mage before?"

 

[Mabbon Dreierg]

'Yes.' Raising his voice, Mabbon glanced over his shoulder at Mordred, Villam, Malik and the rest. He thought about elaborating, but decided not to in the end. There was a time and a place for stories, after all, and while he wasn't adverse to a bit of idle conversation to pass the hours by, Mabbon knew better than to leave himself distracted when he should have been concentrating on the world stretched before him.

'Sides, if there was a point to Mordred's question, chances were he'd likely get to making it soon.

Creating some distance between himself and the group, Mabbon followed the road east. The tracks he spied from atop his horse intermingled, old with new, forming a series of patterns that would have made a madman question his sanity. After a couple hours in the saddle, Mabbon was beginning to question his. Then...

'They turned off the road! Here!'

Drawing up alongside the grass verge, the half-orc pointed down into a nearby gully. He could just about see some sort of cave entrance, half-hidden amongst the bracken and crooked boughs barring the approach. He dismounted to make sure the tracks didn't taper out a dozen feet from the road.

When he was sure of his findings, he turned back to the gathering party.

'See how the foliage has been flattened slightly? I'd say the wagon came through here, still heavily-laden, if the depth of the tracks is anything to go by.' The Stone-bearer grew quiet as he ran a quick tally in his head. 'Odd. I estimated six or seven riders,' he said, scratching at his chin. 'But going by the trail they've left behind, it appears only four left the road with the wagon.'

Villam Regis Malik Mikko Cendrillon

 

[Malik]

It seemed to Malik, that the Guardians preferred to stick together. He could understand it, those in the Vanguard were much the same. They understood each other better than Malik would understand them, so he took little offense as the rode ahead of him. While he himself had not been assigned to a Guardian, he knew that he would likely not form a single bond with any of them unless he spent any sort of time getting to know them. Again, he had no desire to unless it was necessary. He was only here to find his brother, nothing more.

So, the young twin trailed behind, keeping the rear guard as Mabbon scouted the trail out for them. He knew nothing about tracking, but he followed Mabbon's words and gestures, trying to learn what he could. Perhaps he would have to have someone show him the basics for the future. He said nothing as he waited for the Guardians to decide their next move, as technically he was under their command.

Villam Regis Mabbon Dreierg Mordred Mikko Cendrillon

 

[Mikko Cendrillon]

"Guardians. They sent Guardians after these men?" A scout had came to dispatch movement from the road, and the woman with the paralysis magic and the previously familiar man, Ammon, identified by another Vanguardian at Mikko's back, were thinking.

The woman turned to look to the group, smiling as she caught the gaze of Mikko. "Well? Want to finally offer intel to us? Time is running out, pretty soldier." She sauntered over to stand before him, crouching down to level their eyes somewhat. "Scout says you are a Cendrillon. What does that mean? You important?" She pouted, turning her head to regard his glaring face. "Silence will get us nowhere."

Her hand flashed, grabbing onto Brasser's cheeks and Mikko was knocked as his comrade struggled to release himself from her paralysing grip. Mik dared not to move, dared not to touch the witch before him.

"Your Guardians are an hour out from here. You have half that time to talk, for the sake of your friend."

"I have no information to give." Mikko's voice wavered between caution and frustration.

Brasser gargled at his side, and the witch smiled. "Each time you refuse, I will shut down parts of his body. Tell me about the Absalon."

Villam Regis Mabbon Dreierg Mordred Malik

 

[Villam Regis]

Villam hadn't any experience with particularly powerful mages, only amateurs who thought themselves far more powerful than they actually were. If this mage had managed to take down Mikko and his Vanguard comrades, they were no amateur. Villam tilted his head towards Mordred as they thundered after Mabbon, his lip curling into a sneer. "That they use the gift of magic to attack and kidnap Vanguards... It reminds me of why we go through all the red tape to get our stones."
To simply use magic was simple enough if you had the aptitude for it. The discipline to know when and how it should be utilized was a rarer trait, one that the Guardian system had been devised to emphasize. It didn't always work; there had been bad actors like Rhenn Willowood, who played far too fast and loose with the Stone's powers, but the success rate was undeniable.

'They turned off the road! Here!'

Villam turned his horse to follow Mabbon off the road and into the grass, silently impressed with the half-orc's ability to use his eyes. That would have taken him a week to sus out, the ugly mess of hoofprints in the dirt.

"Watch out for stragglers" He turned to Malik, now. "Mabbon and Mordred are our best trackers, so I'm counting on you to watch our back. If we've got eyes on us, I need a heads-up, Cendrillon." Despite their earlier back and forth, Villam had respect for the young man. He was well-meaning and rightfully concerned for his brother. It seemed as though he sometimes forgot that they were all on the same team, though.

Up ahead, Mabbon called them to a stop in front of a trampled patch of foliage. Tucked away just out of sight, on the far end of a long gutter path between two bush-covered hills looked to be an opening. They'd never have seen it if they hadn't left the road.

"Excellent work, Mabbon." Villam complimented as he slid from his horse, peeking out into the gully. It was too narrow for them all to ride to the cave on the other end; they'd need to dismount and trek there on foot. The Darkness Guardian's summation of their opposition only confirmed one of his worries, though, and he turned back to Malik once more. "They might be trying to flank us. Be ready."

Mabbon Dreierg Mordred Malik Mikko Cendrillon

 

[Mordred]

Violence comes closer... Blood shall be spilt... They will die.

Mordred shifted uneasily in his horses saddle but disguised the motion as one of a man trying to ease the cramp from too long with his legs in the stirrups. It was never a good sign when the Stone whispered to him. His fingers itched towards the satchel in which he kept it locked in a led-lined box. Its magic was potent enough that it need not touch his skin to be used for the minor tasks he had perfected and for that Mor was ever thankful. The few odd occasions he had had to put to use the full force of those deadly gifts... He repressed a shudder.

Like calls to like... Let us taste...

The guardian cleared his throat as though that might block out the manacle laughter that echoed in his skull.

"I really do think we should have some sort of plan before just... attacking,"

 

[Mabbon Dreierg]

While Villam cautioned the others, Mabbon took a look around. 'Something you had in mind, Mordred?' He asked, swinging his sword down from his shoulder to sweep aside the long grass in his path. Try as he might, no new tracks revealed themselves.

'We'll need to leave men to guard the horses, and perhaps a few to watch the entrance to the cave in case anyone gets by us.' Glancing over his shoulder at Mor and Villam, Mabbon stared past them, towards the ground opposite the road.

They were all military men, or at least had been once upon a time. Mordred had served in the Vanguard before being summoned to bear The Blood. Villam had, too. Mabbon had served in the scout company for two full years until his selection.

'All is not as it seems. But the longer we wait, the less likely it is we'll find our people alive.' Especially since this whole thing felt premeditated. That's what my gut tells me, anyway. 'I'll lead!' Mabbon decided. 'The rest of you can follow me in when it's clear we're not walking into an ambush.'

Of course, if they were, he would be the first to fall.

Unless it's dark in there, he thought, waving the search party on. Only one way to find out.

Malik Mikko Cendrillon Mordred Villam Regis

 

[Malik]

Malik was aware he was not in charge, and Villam made it even more apparent that this was the case. It mattered not though, just that the Guardians remained safe. That was his job here, even if it meant putting his own flesh and blood at risk. Duty before family, that was their way of life.

At Villam's words, he dropped to the rear. He kept his eyes and ears open for any that may try to strike from behind. It gave him the ability too, to keep an eye on each Guardian. It's not that he had an inherent dislike of the Passion holder, it's just that he also really didn't like him. He could, however, be respectful. That much he could manage. A major part of his current displeasure was what Lale had been kicking up, maybe the Guardians weren't as bad as she made them out to be?

He shook himself from his thoughts, sliding easily from his mount. He eased his sword from its sheath, prepared for an ambush or worse. It seemed Mabbon would continue to lead the way. They'd have to form a line anyways.

Mikko Cendrillon Villam Regis Mordred Mabbon Dreierg

 

[Mikko Cendrillon]

"The Absalon?" Mikko could not help the bitter laugh. "Never met him, witch."

Brasser choked and wheezed. The mage woman scowled at him. "My sources say you have friends in high places. Your family name has some pedigree to it, but yet you never met the Absalon? Pity." She released Brasser, who fell onto his side and coughed into the dirt, trying to recover from the momentary torture he had endured.

"Get him on a horse. We will leave the rest." She stood, barking the orders out to the men that moved straight away to prepare. "Shame we cannot leave one of them dead. That is not what she asked of us to do."

"You mean Carvyre?" Mikko gritted his teeth.

The witch smiled. "No, someone much worse." She turned away now and sauntered off. "Prepare to journey to the coast. We set sail at nightfall." She could be heard relaying orders.

Villam Regis Mordred Mabbon Dreierg Malik

 

[Villam Regis]

Villam was acutely aware of their lack of an organized plan, and if Mordred thought it prudent to bring up, then there was more than likely a need for such a thing. Unfortunately, Mabbon was equally correct in that they hadn't the time needed. It was now or never, and they simply couldn't afford to waste the opportunity they had to strike while the iron was hot.

"I agree, Mor, but we don't have the luxury of time." Villam nodded towards the end of the gully as he fell in behind Mabbon. "This place isn't well hidden, and it's not far from where the attack occurred. You and Mabbon were able to get us here fast, and that's the only advantage we've got. We'd best use that and hope they aren't prepared."

They had no way of knowing if they were dug in and prepared, if they'd already killed the hostages, or if they were planning to skip town and leave traps behind. Villam certainly didn't like these variables, but delaying action only made them worse.

We've all been through far worse.

It was the only remotely comforting thought he could summon up as he followed Mabbon to the cave at the end of the gully, a darkened mouth waiting to swallow them into Ancients-know-where. Regis reached down and unclasped a few items from his belt, just in case. Better to be ready to fight than assume otherwise.

"I'm right behind you, Mabbon." He spoke hushed from behind the Darkness Guardian. It was dim within the cave, but the daylight pouring in from the mouth made things visible enough to navigate the relatively straight path. It almost seemed as though this place had been carved out by hand. "If I see a trap, I'll touch your shoulder. Stop, and I'll disarm it."

Mabbon Dreierg Mordred Malik Mikko Cendrillon

 

[Mordred]

Mordred cast one last look at his horse debating if he would still yet be able to make an excuse to leave, before following the others into the cavern with a defeated sigh.

The Guardian of the Bloodstone had not picked up a weapon since being given the rune. Even now, travelling alone as he was, he had not been wearing a weapon. There was little need if he was attacked with the bloodstone in his pocket. It seemed to laugh as they walked on, an almost maniacal sound that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He had discussed it once with Konstantin, asked if the Power rune ever spoke to him in words, but it seemed a mad curse unique to the Bloodstone. He hadn't been able to decipher whether the voice was a sign of his own madness, or the madness of past Guardians imbued into the stone and carried down like some unwanted heirloom.

A tense silence fell over the group as they shuffled their way through the narrow cavern. It was impossible to walk side by side in the space so they were forced to go single file. Mor found himself behind the other two Guardians, the Vanguard covering their backs. They were over half way through when Mordred felt the tug of the blood he had collected. Until now it had felt stronger with every step but suddenly it grew fainter, as though moving away at speed.

"Not to alarm anyone," he said into the pregnant quiet. "But... I believe the group are on the move," or at least whoevers blood he had was.

 

[Mabbon Dreierg]

It was dark in the cave. Sound echoed, trapped and channelled by the close confines of the caverns they passed through. The rockfaces were pitted and pocked, moulded by the winds of time. The shadows were deeper, there. Any number of things could have hidden away in those spaces, watching, waiting for prey to stumble blindly into their trap.

Mabbon could see just fine, though.

Cloaked in shadow, a long knife the length of his forearm held behind his back, Mabbon led the rescue party as surely as any guide native to these lands could. Silently. Swiftly. He communicated via hand signals, highlighting pitfalls and pathways the others might struggle to see in the half-light.

The air in the cave was dry, scratchy. Like a tomb.

A sound from the next cavern made the half-orc turn to his compatriots. Voices, one familiar, the rest...

Holding up a finger for quiet, Mabbon ghosted forwards. The shadows hid him well as he strayed to within a dozen feet of where one bandit waited, crossbow loaded and pointed back the way he had come. The voice from before spoke again, something about the coast come nightfall. There was something else, too. A name. What was it? Carrie? Carver?

Carvyre?

Slowly, Mabbon reversed his grip on his dagger so that it pointed forwards. The bandit, unawares, kept casting furtive glances over his shoulder, as if wanting to be away as quickly as possible.

Mabbon sent him away as quickly as he could, snatching the crossbow away as his blade found the man's throat. Lowering them both to the ground, Mabbon's ears perked up, his head tilting just so.

The voices had stopped.

Malik Mikko Cendrillon Villam Regis Mordred