Quest Those Forgotten

Organization specific roleplay for governments, guilds, adventure groups, or anything similar
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Vesryn Tes'arl

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"How long has it been old friend? How long since we heard their screams? How long since we saw their tears? How long since we felt their terror."
The voice seemed to ring in his ear, a sounding call that urged for action. He had heard it before. That voice, that call. It was so familiar, so very familiar...yet far. He frowned slightly, his gaze sweeping over the empty throne room, his breath forming a cold mist as he exhaled.
"Do you not ache to see their pain? To call forth the hordes and finally do what we were meant to?"
It continued to speak to him, call out to him. The words were a song, a beautiful melody that made more sense than he could describe. Slowly Vesryn shifted upon the throne, his back straightening, his eyes shifting in search of the voice.

Again it rang out, and again he could not find it's origin.

"Stand. They wait for you."
Vesryn Tes'Arl heeded the call, slowly pulling himself from the decrepit and broken stone he had been sitting on. His fingers were gnarled, his skin ash, and his eyes gave a soft glow within the dark. Slowly he stepped off the dais, disinterested in the marble etchings that had been cut into the steps two centuries ago.

He walked slowly, each step deliberate as he moved through the fallen columns and out of the throne room. Beyond lay the entry-hall, it's broken and shattered doors already laying on the floor. Through the open doorway he could see the fires of those within the Keep, his creatures, his pets, and his companions.

They were waiting for him, heeding the call.

Eager to begin again.
 
The fortress had no name. It was as forgotten as its last defenders though their bones still littered some of the halls and corridors. Few maps featured it and the ruins were foreboding enough to keep away most who stumbled upon it. The huge cyclopean blocks of stone loomed over the local landscape, testament to the skill of their builders.

If she'd cared enough, Dianaimh could have summoned up one of the fallen and interrogated their spirit about it. She didn't. What little valuables had survived the sack of the fortress had been stolen over the years by foolhardy scavengers, some of whose bones now also decorated the interior.

It was Vesryn's now. The ruined fastness served as a refuge, one of many forgotten strongholds scattered through Arethil. War was a constant in the world with kingdoms rising and falling amidst the flames.

Dianaimh shivered and threw another log on the fire. She shot a glare towards one of the silent sentinels. The elves didn't seem to feel the elements as much as mortals did. They seemed tireless, burning with a power that lesser beings could only envy. Gritting her teeth, she closed her eyes and murmured a few words. Warmth coursed through her as the enchantment kicked in, Dianaimh giving a sigh of satisfaction.

There was a definite pecking order. Vesryn's Companions remained his inner circle, his most trusted advisors. The non-elven contingent were treated a poor second, any of the outcasts and renegades who flocked to his banner were of lower consideration and much more expendable. Dianaimh was sure that even were she an elf, she would still be excluded for not being one of the original Hundred.

There was a fanaticism about them. Most would die for Vesryn or their cause. Some already had. The necromancer shook her head at the thought. She would serve her lord by living. For all her power an errant swordsman or stray arrow could fell her.

A silence seemed to settle on the keep and Dianaimh's head shot up. He was here. She rose to her feet respectfully as Vesryn entered.
 
The Mistress of the Hunt prowled through the dark halls of the abandoned keep. Her boots should have echoed off the cracked stone walls with every step she took, but there was only a muffled silence. Flanked on either side by the two rangers who had accompanied her on the latest patrol, she stepped into the open courtyard where Vesryn's forces had gathered.

A cloud of breath swirled around her face as she exhaled sharply, sweeping her softly glowing blue gaze over the surrounding men, and the occasional woman. She tolerated the humans that had flocked to Vesryn's banner, to those who were true to the cause; but for those who had come seeking only power and their own personal gain, she had no patience. They were utterly expendable, as far as she was concerned.

Which meant that they served their own purpose, and so, she did not slaughter them on sight. That did not mean she didn't consider it several times a day.

Her own Valithari Sentinels were those who had proven to be skilled and loyal enough to be entrusted with the protection of the fortress. Few were selected to join their ranks, as she hand picked each and every one herself. Of the two men who stood at her side; one was her top lieutenant, Arlan and the other was her Spy Master, Gilos. All three wore similar garb: dark armor and a black cloak trimmed with silver. Like their ethereal leader, both men moved with a startling silence. Only magic could result in such an uncanny quiet.

An intent hush fell over the camp, and all eyes gradually shifted towards the open doorway in which their commander now stood.

A wicked smile spread across her lips, revealing the subtle point of her incisors.

"It is time." She whispered.
 
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They were few in number now, so few.

Once he had stood at the head of an army, once he had been the fear of a thousand cities across all of Arethil. He had been not a tyrant, not a conqueror, but vengeance made form. He remembered those days. Two centuries had passed, but their calling still remained.

The Dark Elf stepped onto the edge of the balcony overlooking the rest of the keep, his gaze falling over the gathered forces below. Some met his gaze, others shied away from him. The Companions welcomed the sight of him, but the others? They were as scared as they were eager. He could feel it in them, feel the conflict of serving someone like him.

"They are necessary, but never forget what they are."
Vesryn placed one hand on the fallen stone railing of the balcony, leaning forward slightly as he searched for key figures within the camps.

After a moment he found them, twelve men and women whom he pointed towards, and then waved to. Each of them had their uses, each of them had sworn their allegiance, though not all of them would be with him at the end. "Come."

He called on them.

It was time to break away from this fortress, it was time to stop hiding. He would gather his army once more, and this time it would sunder all those who stood before him.
 
Wrenarias Valithal entered the courtyard and Dianaimh bit back a curse. The dark elf was feared for her stealth. Few dared talk dissent for fear of her being near. Fearful whispers claimed that she could take form in any shadow. She was also high in the favour of their lord which meant that any move against her would take exceptional care.

Dianaimh fought back the weak feeling in her legs as she gazed upon Vesryn. The corruption was clear in their leader, the intoxicating power that she wanted for her own. He was glorious as he was terrifying. Her mouth opened in delight as he pointed at her as one of the chosen, closing her eyes for a moment in thanks.

Stepping forward on shaky legs, she forced her back straight, walking with arrogance while she enjoyed the jealous glares of those who hadn't been picked. The curtness of the summons didn't offend her, it was an honour even to be called.
 
She turned to Arlan who stood at her left, and murmured quietly to him. "Pass on our report to the next patrol, Lieutenant. There is still work to be done."

There was no need for all three of them to answer Vesryn's summoning.

With his right fist clasped over his breast, Arlan gave a deep bow to his Lady of Shadows, then turned to leave without uttering a single word. For a creature of his size, the komodo moved with surprising grace. He stood head and shoulders above many of the inhabitants of the camp, with a barrel-shaped chest, and powerful arms that looked as though they could rip a man apart. It was no mystery as to how the man had excelled through the ranks. He was a lethal warrior, and one who was fiercely loyal to his Lady.

When she turned to make her way along the edge of the courtyard towards the entry hall where Vesryn waited, Gilos moved silently at her side. His hood falling low over his face and obscuring his features in absolute darkness. It should have been possible to peer inside under certain lighting, but no matter how hard someone might try to steal a glimpse of his face... there was only shadow.

As they both passed behind a stone pillar that cast a shadow along the pathway, they simply vanished in a wisp of darkness. At that same instant, shadows coalesced together in a corner inside the great hall which quickly took the shape of Wrenarias and her spy master. The shadows slid from their forms like tendrils and faded into smoke at their feet.

Gilos knelt respectfully in the presence of the commander, bowing his head. Wrenarias waved a hand, gesturing for him to rise a moment later.

She stepped forward, raising her chin slightly with a confident smile curling at the corner of her lips.

"Vesryn." She purred his name in her low voice.

Centuries ago, she had fought by this man's side in battle. They had bled together, killed together,. That had never changed in all this time. She had no use for titles when she spoke with him.
 
They stood within the antechamber of the throne room, the broken and cracked doors laying just beyond where his gathered lieutenants stood. They were all loyal in their own way, for their own reason. Some were of his Companions, those who had committed the grand sin with him.

Others had come for different reasons. Humans, demons, and even a dwarf. Those who stood by his side shared no common creed or origin, nor a goal for that matter. Each and every one of them wanted something else, whether it be power, or the fulfillment of their own vengeance. Vesryn held none of that against them, they were just pawns after all, save for the few that had stayed by his side all these years.

One of them spoke in greeting, her voice singing within the empty hall. Her breath was cold, whispering through the air in a small fog. He inclined his head slightly in her direction, his voice ringing out a second later. "It is time."

"Finally."
He regarded them all, and then slowly raised his hand. A black mist formed around them, slowly falling to the ground and etching the earth. It seemed to crawl forward, two of his acolytes stepping to the side to avoid it. The mist seized upon one of the shattered doors and dragged it into the center of the room. There was a loud crash of wood, and then suddenly the great door twisted and broke, the mist forming it into a table of sorts.

His yellow gaze flowed over the room, and he regarded each of them in turn.

"I need an army." It was a statement, not request or command. A simple fact, though one that clearly required an answer.
 
Dianaimh for all her skill was mortal. She knelt. "Lord" she said, head down until she and the others were bade rise. Jealousy burned in her as she watched Wrenarias greet him by name, not even bending her knee in supplication. It was an honour restricted to those who'd been by his side for centuries, his first followers.

She tensed like the others as the black mist formed. Dianaimh was a skilled sorceress but the power that Vesryn wielded was unlike anything she'd ever seen before. The formless mass moved to seize one of the ruined doors, tearing it off to use as a makeshift table.

Silence lingered after his statement. No one was daring to speak, afraid of being seen to step out of line. Dianaimh tried to speak but found her throat had dried up. She swallowed a lump in it and coughed to clear her throat. Even still, her voice shook a little as she dared to be the first to answer.

"I can raise you one lord. The dead are everywhere in Arethil". She took a breath to compose herself, aware of the looks from others. She'd been bold enough to speak so she damned well better finish it now. "Once risen even a mage of moderate skill can direct them. They are the perfect tool".
 
Instead of immediately offering a suggestion, Wrenarias stayed silent and waited. She wanted to see what the others would bring to the table first. The silence that had stretched on irritated her.

Then, to her mild surprise, a meek human girl spoke up on the far side of the makeshift table. Her voice trembled slightly when she spoke, but she had at least mustered the courage to do so. Unlike her other useless compatriots.

The look Wrenarias sent in her direction was not one of annoyance, but of muted interest. If she had something useful to add, then there was no need to interrupt. An army of undead was an intriguing proposition, but she questioned whether or not such a demure creature would be capable of accomplishing such a feat. If she managed it, Wrenarias might have been impressed.

"If you wish to spend the rest of your short life raiding every graveyard of peasants from here to the coastline, perhaps." Her tone was wry, verging on condescending, though it quickly shifted when she continued. "But you may be on the right path..." She mused softly, trailing her fingers along the curve of her throat in thought.

She turned her head slightly to look over her shoulder to Gilos. The hooded man stepped forward and bent his head ever so slightly to murmur in Wrenarias' ear. There should have been a sound that escaped his shadowed cowl, but there was nothing. She dipped her head once as if he had said something, then she returned her striking gaze to Dianaimh.

"Tell me, little summoner of the dead, how many could you raise at once? With a large enough supply, we could spare wasting what precious few years you have. Perhaps that would allow you to prove useful in other ways, as well, in the future." It was as close to a compliment that the necromancer was going to receive from Wrenarias.

Her attention shifted to Vesryn, resting the tips of her fingers against the top of the table. Tendrils of shadows crept from her fingers across the table top, taking a shape that outlined the surrounding countryside in a rough map. Gilos reached around her and extended a hand towards the map, drawing a shape with his gloved index finger that then took on a three dimensional appearance.

"Talrest Village." She explained coolly.
 
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"The dead."
There was no mockery there, only musing. The Dark Elf leaned forward slightly, placing his hand upon the makeshift table and peering at the map that Wrenarias had dragged forth. He studied it for a moment, considering the plan that had already been put in place.

An army was necessary, one that could bury both Fal'Addas and Vel Anir within it's wake. There was no doubt in his mind on how to achieve this, how he would get there, and the Dead would not be enough.

Yet they could be a start. "The dead are endless."

Vesryn's voice seemed to shatter the air this time, his voice carrying more resonance as it boomed throughout the hall. The yellow of his gaze swept over each of his lieutenants, oozing from person to person until it eventually they landed upon the Necromancer who had spoken first.

A brave little thing he supposed. Pity she was human.

"Not enough. Not near enough."

"Yet they lack capability." A Dreadlord of Vel Anir could eradicate a hundred undead with a snap of his finger, an Elf calling upon the Divine a thousand. No, if he was going to succeed he would need more, much more. He knew this, so did everyone in the room, but it was a start at least. "The dead cannot win this for us."

He let the sentence hang in the air for a second, then continued. "But a good foundation nonetheless."

It was about as great a complement as the Necromancer was going to receive, at least until she proved herself further. Vesryn's gaze drifted away from the woman and fell upon his Companion.

"Prepare your Sentinels." His tone left no room for questions.
 
Dianaimh fought the instinctive urge to drop her gaze as the elf looked at her. Their piercing gaze was enough to make lesser creatures cringe. She could feel the hot flush to her cheeks as Wrenarias spoke with perceptible humour in her voice. Gritting her teeth against the shame, she tried not to look too eager while the dark elf confessed that there might just be the merest potential from her idea.

She bit her tongue. To speak out against one of the Companion's in Vesryn's presence would not be a career boosting move. Forcing her voice to remain calm, she took her time to answer. "Several hundred at least Lady Valithal" she said, fighting the urge to snap back at the condescending tone. It was easy for an elf, especially when dealing with a creature several centuries younger. "The spell can be repeated as often as needed. The only limitation is the energy of the caster and the material available". A bland comment on the amount of corpses. She was careful to keep her voice respectful and meek even though the elf had likened her to a useful tool. "I...am useful milady".

Silent while she spoke with Vesryn, respectfully waiting to be spoken to again. Vesryn hadn't even looked in her direction, he was studying the projection Wrenarias had brought up for him. She twitched as his voice boomed out, his gaze travelling before it landed on her. She only held it for a few seconds before dropping her eyes, unable to meet it for long.

She almost sagged in relief as he allowed that it could be of use to him. "Thank you Lord" she breathed. He would have had little patience with mindless pattering and parroting of his assessment. The acknowledgement alone was worth the risk of speaking out. She breathed easier when his gaze left her and turned back to his lady of shadows.
 
Vesryn put her other concerns to words before she could raise the point herself. Just another moment out of many in which he proved his competence, that she was not wrong for putting her trust in him. It was always comforting to know that they were both thinking along the same lines.

The young necromancer spoke again, this time controlling the quiver in her voice; but Wrenarias could practically sense the frustration seething from the human, which amused her. "We shall see, little summoner." The dark elf purred quietly, then shifted her gaze to Vesryn.

"My Sentinels are always ready, Vesryn." She remarked, stepping away from the table with a smirk on her lips. "I will rally them at the gates, my friend."

Gilos silently moved after his Lady; the map and marker for the sleepy little village vanishing from sight as they both walked away.

Shadows swirled around both figures before they even reached the door, and they too vanished into darkness.
 
"Necromancer." It would be no surprise that Vesryn had not bothered to learn the womans name, in fact just the opposite would have been true. The entire room likely would have suffered a slight shock had he actually called the woman by whatever title she claimed. "Accompany her."

"We will kill them. Kill them and bring them back. They shall serve."
The others in the room seemed to stand impatiently.

They of course knew that Vesryn was not yet through with them, and they knew that very likely their lord had a task for each of them. The army of the dead would come quickly, the village would be burned and it's people would be gone in the beat of a heart, but they would not be enough. "Sow the seeds."

He instructed simply.

"In Alliria, in Belgrath." His tone was ice. "In Minaris. Every corner of Arethil."

Vesryn slowly let his gaze drift over the others. "Gold. Power. Mortals seek these things. Promise them, promise them everything."

"All will serve."

The others nodded slowly, their task more than clear.

Vesryn meanwhile would accompany Wrenaris and the Necromancer, if only to renew the blood.
 
Dianaimh's knees trembled but she nodded at his words. "It shall be as you command lord" she said, bowing to him. She left the hall quickly, hurrying towards the gates. Unlike Wrenarias, Dianaimh didn't have the luxury of being able to step from shadow to shadow.

She retrieved her own belongings. Nothing more than a couple of tomes, her staff, her blade. The barest essentials. Speed was of the essence now and she was determined to prove her worth. She wasn't going to let the weaknesses of being mortal hold her back, not when she had a chance to display her skill and ability.

The Sentinels were being assembled at the gates. Dianaimh put up her hood as she stepped out into the cold night. She cleared her throat to announce her presence, "I am to accompany you Lady Valithal. Our Lord commanded me to assist you however you see fit".
 
"I thought that he might." She remarked idly, waving a hand to the towering Lieutenant Arlan. "Fetch a horse for our little necromancer, my dear. We can hardly expect her to keep up on foot, now can we?"

Her intense blue gaze returned to Dianaimh and she stepped closer to the necromancer, hooking a gloved finger beneath her chin and raising the woman's face to meet her own. "Do not fail us." She said curtly, then stepped away. The dark cloak billowed silently behind her as she sauntered over to the massive black horse that stood waiting.

Moments later, a deep voice awkwardly cleared his throat behind the human woman. "Your mount, Necromancer." The komodo rumbled, holding the reins out to Dianaimh. A quiet mare was passed over to her, not as powerful or intimidating as the great destriers that the Sentinels all rode. "She does not seem much, but she is fast and will be able to keep pace." He said, almost reassuringly, before he moved away to find his own horse.

Gilos trotted up next to Wrenarias already seated on his horse, though his shadowy gaze seemed to be focused on Dianaimh. Then he slowly turned his head towards his Lady. There was presumably a silent exchange before the dark elf spoke aloud. "Arlan will ensure she does not fall behind. Worry not."
 
From the shadows bled Vesryn.

His tall and almost lanky form seemed to ebb into existence from the darkened corners of the keep, his face as grim as it had been within the grand hall. Bright yellow eyes drifted across the assembled Sentinels, never settling on any one of them for longer than just a few seconds.

There was a sword at his side now, and ancient and black thing that seemed to pulse with an unpleasant energy. One hand rested upon it's pommel.

He found no need to speak to any of those present. Most of them were already mounted and ready to go. The village was only a short distance away, a day or so at most. He doubted that they would get all they needed there, far from it in fact, but it would be a start. From one Horde they could build another, then another.

A simple thing. A seed sowed.

"And then more will come."
Vesryn watched the gathered for a breath, and then turned on his heel and simply began to walk out of the keep. His figure obscuring and then shifting into the abyss as he passed through the empty gateway.
 
Dianaimh's gaze flickered away when those piercing blue eyes came to rest on her again. She forced her expression to remain neutral while she was belittled. She tensed as Wrenarias stepped closer, forcing her chin up to look at the taller woman. Her tone was curt, a simple warning that she had best succeed. "Yes Lady Valithal" she said, keeping her voice from trembling.

She nodded her thanks at the komodi, biting back her initial revulsion. Despite her feelings for the species, he had at least had shown her some courtesy. "Thank you" she said, mounting the mare and waiting for the others. She could see her steed was noticeably smaller than the destriers the others had.

She moved her horse up behind Wrenarias, getting a feel for the animal while the Sentinels assembled. She couldn't shake the feeling that she was like unwanted cargo.
 
Wrenarias and Gilos swept their eyes over the gathered sentinels briefly. Then the elf gave a nod of her head to her komodi lieutenant once Vesryn had passed through the gateway.

Arlan spun his massive horse around, waving a hand over his head, and gave a sharp whistle. As a single unit, the Valithari surged forward. It should have been a tremendous sound of hooves, leather creaking, metallic weapons clattering... but this raiding party moved in absolute silence.

While the column moved past, Wrenarias and her spy master waited off to the side; both of them speaking quietly with one another. Gilos bowed his head and clasped a fist over his chest, before he turned his horse and cantered off to the back of the line. The Lady of Shadow turned her own beast and continued alongside the formation.

She came up beside the necromancer, looking down at her from the corner of her eyes. "You will stay with Arlan when the fighting begins. It would be a shame if we were to make this entire journey, just for you to die at the hands of a frightened peasant. He will ensure that does not happen, little summoner."
 
The silence was unnerving. Normally a company this side would have been abuzz with quiet conversation, the jingle of armour and weapons, the normal noise of a unit going off to war. But not even the horses made a sound. There was some magic afoot here but it was one Dianaimh knew nothing of. She could just sense it there at the periphery.

She tensed as Wrenarias came back along the line to match her steed by hers. "I don't require a minder Lady Valithal" she said with as much steel as she could put in her voice. She was a sorceress, not some mewling infant. The dark elf had a point though, even the mightiest magic user was vulnerable to arrows and blades. Mages were never put in the front line. They were too tempting of a target.

The elf's condescension was galling but she didn't want to be humiliated by speaking out. "I have some experience with battle magic. I don't need to be hidden away like some maiden".
 
Wrenarias gave a barking laugh at the human's retort. The necromancer could claim all she wanted, but until she proved herself otherwise, the dark elf cared little for her opinion. Her gaze turned away from Dianaimh, lazily sweeping over the landscape that stretched out before them.

"You would do well to keep your pride in check, little summoner." She mused. "Prove to me you're worth all the bluster, and then I will consider not having you watched. Until then, stay with your minder."

She looked down to Dianaimh on her little mare, smirking. Before, she hadn't considered Arlan as a minder, but more of an added layer of protection to their key player in this scheme. However, when the human reacted in a way that made it clear she was offended by the notion, Wrenarias couldn't help but pick at it.
 
Dianaimh felt her cheeks flush as the elf laughed. It was a sound that managed to be beautiful while at the same time making her spine tingle. The elf was taller than her when they were afoot, she positively loomed over her with the necromancer on a small mare. She suspected it was part of another little game.

"Yes Lady Valithal" she said through gritted teeth. An immortal was hardly going to concern themselves with a human's issues. She'd just given a fairly direct order there. The smirk made her blood boil, the elf saw her like a toy. She tried to spur her horse further on but the dark elf easily kept pace on her destrier.

"Might I be permitted to ask what my purpose on this journey is?". She couldn't resist her own jibe, "I mean I am curious what is so dangerous that Sentinels are unable to manage it".
 
"I'm a little disappointed that I have to explain this to you, though I am not surprised." Wrenarias chided flatly.

Her piercing gaze swiveled back down to Dianaimh, her expression unreadable. She loathed having to waste her time, and explaining something as simple such as why the necromancer was coming along on this venture, easily fell into that category. Tonguing the inside of her cheek, she continued.

"You are the one that is to raise the village after the Sentinels have slaughtered the humans that live there. This is what you suggested, is it not?"
 
Dianaimh gave an irritated toss of her head, trying to avoid cringing from the elf's piercing stare. They might look superficially similar to humans but that was where the resemblance stopped. They were wholly alien. "I understand that Lady Valithal. I do not understand why". The elf seemed to take particular pleasure in reminding her that it was a human village they were going to massacre.

She realised she was taking a risk prying into elven matters but she had to put it forward. "I don't understand how destroying one village of peasants will change anything. How many live there? Two hundred, three hundred? It is hardly an army to set hearts quaking cross Arethil".

Her frustration was clear but she did her best to rein it in before she was reprimanded. She knew she was to be kept more in the dark than Vesryn's inner circle but it still chafed. "I...I can't see what this is supposed to accomplish".
 
(Just jumping us forward so I can Write again!)​
Dianaimh Ui Muirgheal | Wrenarias Valithal

"Are you familiar with the game of Stones, little necromancer." Vesryn did not step from the shadows. He did not ebb from the dark, instead he seemed to form from it. His body morphed and twisted together, an abyss that was born from the nothingness of the dark.

His voice seemed to ring around them, a hushed whisper that somehow resounded within the entirety of the wood. Some of the horses pranced with fear, tapping their feet as Vesryn once more broke into the reality of Arethil. His gaze falling upon the lights of the village that lay below.

"No." The Dark Elf sounded disappointed, even though he gave no opportunity for an answer. "No I suspect you would not have."

Human's rarely did. "It is a game from our Kind, one of strategy and tactics."

He glanced back briefly.

"The trick to victory is the first move." Slowly Vesryn looked back down at the village. "This is our first move."
 
She jumped in shock. The sudden appearance of her lord nearly made her go weak at the knees. Vesryn's presence didn't just have her uneasy, some of the horses were shying, uncomfortable at being near him. The normal sounds of the forest had disappeared, no small creature staying near him.

"I-I am not. But I have played chess Lord" Dianaimh ventured, her voice cautious. She'd heard of Stones but the complex gameplay was not one a human could have matched. She followed his gaze down to the unsuspecting village below, scattered lights marking the low slung buildings.

No wall, no moat, not even a presentable fence. They couldn't even have kept a cow out. She looked back at him, at Wrenarias, at the Sentinels. The village's doom was about to hit them with all the force of a tidal wave.
 
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