C1 RacksomAnd then, there was War(5th Board)

Last edited by Aero on Wed Sep 14, 2011 6:16 pm; edited 1 time in total

Another short puff of smoke flew back in the wind when Arasolra breathed an irritated sigh, rolling her eyes. Did nobody have fun anymore? "This is boring." She declared, seeing that they had flown practically outside of the city's boundaries by now. Looking back, it seemed that things had calmed do to their normal state of oh so dull inactivity. Great, now just everything was just falling apart. Oh well, she was tired anyway, and she was sure a forest somewhere would make a great bed once she lit up the underbrush for a warm nest. Suddenly, she banked closer to the blue dragon, diving underneath him and popping up on the other side, laughing as girlishly as a dragon could, then with powerful strokes of her wings headed north. "See you later!"

((short post is short, but I've now officially withdrawn Arasolra from the action))

Atleon gave the elf a quick sideways glance at the question and shortly replied: “The one we used to get here.” Giving a quick approving nod at the bottle, Armeno had suddenly picked up, he was glad to see that something that flammable was at their hand, they only had to hope now that the bottle would not break under their own noses and make their whole plan go to a waste.

After a glance to assure that Sandy was still standing on her two feet and ready to go, Atleon moved back into the street, carefully looking both ways to ascertain there were no soldiers around. With quick strides, keeping as close to the wall as possible with the materials they had found and his sword ready in hand, he made his way back to the pub into which the tunnels had opened. The journey seemed longer now than before and the prince kept constantly looking over his shoulder to make sure that they were neither attacked nor missing someone of the trio.

Without interruptions, they managed to submerge back into the tunnels and Atleon quickly bolted the trapdoor back into place after all three of them had passed through before moving on without hesitation. He wanted this to be over and done with as rapidly as possible. They were all three running on the last of their strength and there was no telling how much longer they could hold out, so better move quickly. Luckily for them, it wasn’t too far anymore to where Atleon was planning on leaving a little present for Zartear.

“Not far now, hold out just a bit longer and we can get out of here. And hopefully rest a bit,” he said with an encouraging smile. He was glad that he had two brave fighters with him, who would not give up no matter what, who kept going because they knew it was important. He could only admire their courage and dedication to the cause and he made a mental note to reward them both well for it when they got out of here.

After a brief consultation of the way the tunnels went, Atleon turned left one last time before stopping in front of a cellar door. “This is it. We have to be swift and stealth. Ruin as much as you can with the means we have and just before we will disappear, through that fantastic bottle of yours into one of their campfires,” Atleon told them, looking with a grin on his face to the bottle Armeno was cradling in his arm. “If they don’t have fires up yet, we’ll find something else.”

Taking a deep breath to steel his arms once more for the effort of pushing open a trapdoor, he suddenly lost hold on the wooden surface as the door got yanked open from the other side. Shocked, Atleon immediately drew his sword, sweat protruding from every pore on his body as the adrenaline and panic began pumping at this new occurrence and he braced himself for the oncoming attack.

“Atleon?!” an incredulous voice called out from above as the half-elf, startled herself, looked down into the hole and saw a familiar face in the dim light the opening provided.

“Siofra?!” the prince retorted, just as astonished and probably even more surprised, if not shocked, once he saw that she was under the command of Zartear, which made him hesitate in lowering his sword despite the fact he was faced with a friend. “What on earth is going on?!”

~((In the interest of moving this along, I took a few liberties in moving the trio at a quicker pace. I hope I didn't step on any toes with this.^^))~

The time was set, looking up to the noon sky it was set to be a warm and cloudless summer day. The most apt of times to announce his sovreignty to the new people.
Noting all that was around him, the stir of anticipation, he tugged on the Euphorn's chains sharply and made his way over to the high stone platform that was aloft from the ground and circled the great Earth Stone's keeping tower.
Ascending the steps with his usual certainty he felt the rush of excitement. So much hung in the power of his words. The battle was almost completely won, here he would make the point that would invariably pull people to his side and incite anger against their former ruling. Anger would stir them to become a harder race of people. If all went well.

Now he overlooked a boiling sea of people in desperation, bordered in the distance by a wall of his soldiers and it sparked his vision all the more, dreams were all well and good but the reality was an overwhelming victory and he relished every second.
As if on perfect cue, the drummers had already assembled themselves, uttering sharp shouts and a hastened beat of the the war drums to draw the swathes of attention, orders among the men spread and the people fell into submissive silence. It was eery to see how much the soul of rebellion had been beaten out of them and so easily.

No breath was wasted, this was the moment Zartear had longed for, so he spoke, his voice commanding them to listen...
"Slaves of Racksom, why is it that you let yourselves be like this? Why do you allow yourselves to be so completely destroyed!?" His arm gestured to the growing pile of bodies, sideline to the main slave gathering, where the great cremation would happen. There was a certain hint of righteous anger in his voice.
"This land, this country! It disgusts me! It disgusts me that in all your peace that your so-called legendary Guardians did not have the foresight or sensibility to care to protect you! That even when confronted with opposition they fled the battle, does any soul have the right to bear their title of a "Guardian" with such an act? Are these truly your rulers?"
He scanned the people, feeling the fear and uncertainty in all of them, this isn't quite what they has expected.
"All the more, they did nothing for Quinsilla. I would not even call this a war, how pathetic it must look for us proud Surahnians to fight such weak foes...So weak they don't even dare to put up their best against us. Ignorant and foolish. Do you realise how laughable it was that of your entire force, our army found your finest weapons of defence were a meat cleaver and a farmers hoe?" He carried on, "And that even one of your own turns against you in the battle; perhaps the wiser one but your disloyalty to your own rulers says everything I need to know about every one of you. You are weak and you are incapable, you are all mere infants at the mercy of whoever could wish to have you and that too, disgusts me...Have you no sense of honour in the least of your state?"
His tone softened,
"However." He drew his hand back and reached out to the crowd, as if now searching in their minds to pull out exactly what he needed them to show.
"The lesson need only be learnt once in a lifetime, for as long as you live under my rule, none of you will have to feel such humiliation again. For as long as you choose to follow a superior leadership that truly understands what it is to rule wisely, I can promise you on the life of every proud Surahnian I bring with me from my own country ruined by it's gradual weakening grip, that you will all be a part of a great rebuilding. You will all overcome the wounds of today and honour the dead by your actions tomorrow."
Zartear was pleased, there seemed to be quite a nice pulse in the crowd of doubt. They were so broken, they'd cling to anything right now, however bare and small the sweetness.

"I must say another thing though..." He pulled the chains of the Euphorn to his side and raised them quickly for everyone to see..."As long as you cooperate in your own rebuilding, we need not be enemies. I wish for you to be my people, not my broken and pathetic slaves." He retracted the spell (for now) and held fast the sealing-collar, showing it to the people, before discarding it casually off the side of the platform where it crashed onto empty stone ground. "And finally. You should know, for as despisable as the the enemy is for throwing away it's men, not even equipped to fight back beasts of a forest...It is our tradition that every enemy deserves a righteous journey to the next world..."

The sky was cloudless, but as the bodies were set to fire by the resident magi, dark smoke rose against the deep blue in great billows, yet all the people could do was sigh dejectedly.
Yes he had sown seeds that would grow to loyalty, preying on their apparent weakness... they'd now reach for the one flame of hope and all he had presented to them was his own enamored image with the might of many experienced and hardened men by his side. Zartear as their sovreign lord and master was powerful, and they would never be told any different.

Blackness surrounded her. She didn’t see it through her firmly closed eyes, but she could feel it. Blackness and dust. Hard grained and annoying dust. It was creeping all over her, easing its way into her nostrils, into her clothes and even under her closed eyelids, making everything itch and scratch in the most uncomfortable manner. Coughing, the girl finally dared to open her eyes, feeling as if a weight was crushing her every bone, enclosing her within its grasp. Fluttering her lids in a vain attempt to rid herself of the dust blurring her vision, she remained sprawled out on the floor underneath a pile of rubble when she realised that there was indeed only blackness around. And heat. Strong odours suddenly burnt in her nose, overruling the dust; the odours of scorched earth and flesh. The heat was still palpable all around her and Alice began to wonder what had happened to her.

A voice was whispering to her in her mind, a voice that compelled her to get up and come out from underneath all that debris, to assume her righteous position by her best friend’s side. Underlund was calling to her, the one who had saved her. How, she did not know and she did not care. All that mattered was that she served Underlund as Underlund server her. She was now finally free, without any more burdens, free to go about her business as she pleased. And as it pleased Underlund of course. Underlund would never let her down, unlike her parents. With a flash of anger she saw their image rise in her mind before she quickly banished it and made to follow her friend’s voice. Without too much effort, the blackhaired girl crawled out from underneath the ruins which had served her as a hiding place just as the invasion had started, but which to her misfortune had been burnt to the ground by a dragon. It had been her own bad luck that out of the many hiding places, she had chosen the stable of an inn with walls and roof made out of earth and straw. The stone walls of the inn itself had given way to the massive heat of the flames, tumbling away onto the sad remains of the stable and the scorched animals it had hosted.

As Alice finally emerged from out of the rubble, feeling a little uneasy on her feet, the girl noticed the real destruction the battle had left in its wake and it seemed almost beautiful to her. This is my purpose, this is what I am intended for, she mused, cocking her head lightly to her side as she strengthened her grasp on Underlund and pulled it close. It was then that a voice suddenly drifted into her still slightly clogged ears from somewhere not too far away. A dark voice, a voice that spoke of evil deeds but held enormous promises nonetheless. And it promised a life without humiliation, a life underneath a ruler but one that would appreciate strength and commitment. The words sounded as if the man were speaking to Alice personally, and her heart lifted up and flew to him. She wanted to meet this man who could speak such words, wanted to know whether he was being truthful or not, but his voice already told her enough. In the end, his words were meaningless to her for the most part; it was the tempting melody of promise that pulled her. “We need to seek him out Underlund, he will help us. He will do what we want,” she murmured with a loving glance at the book she held tightly clutched to her chest. My precious friend, she thought as an evil smile spread across her doll-like face.

Her legs began walking as of their own accord, following the sound of this voice; they followed the promise of revenge on those who had so weakly and cowardly abandoned everyone. This man, she was certain, would help her seek revenge on her parents and everyone else who had disregarded, misunderstood and underestimated her. He would help her punish them for their weakness and their delusions. But he, he would understand, just like Underlund understood her. He knew how weak everyone was and that something had to be done to prevent that sickness from spreading even further. People needed to be strong, not weak.

Alice didn’t even feel especially sad at the knowledge that her parents had left her all alone in the war that had preceded the events who had brought her to this new plane of existence; on the contrary, it made her feel rather strong. The fact served to nourish her need and desire for retribution even more and the anger burning deep inside her came bubbling to the surface and it was almost palpable to everyone around her as she approached the man who had now come to the end of his speech. This dark haired and imposing ruler who would help her channel her rage, who would help her destroy her parents and anyone in line with them.

As she approached the man, hope and worship spreading across her face, mixing with the fury represented there in a strange convulsion of emotions, a few bones suddenly began to rattle on the pile of burning corpses not too far away from them. Slowly, they seemed to reassemble themselves into what formed a human shape and after a while, the skeleton moved towards Alice in a shaky pace, bones glowing with the faint light of the flames they had just escaped and bowed to the one it knew had just awakened it.

“My master,” Alice grinned mischievously as she bowed to the leader of the Surahnian Rebellion, the skeleton following suit.

Static rubbed one hand across her face at the avian’s stubbornness, not quite believing how stupid she was being. Did Starling really intend to confront the other two in such a state? Well, if she was, she wasn’t going to hang around for the inevitable whiplash.
“Brilliant. You go and get yourself killed, I’m not sticking around for it,” Static whispered back harshly, blinking as blood started to trickle from the cuts on her face again. She eyed the dragon and rider pair suspiciously, then climbed painfully to her feet again, leaning heavily on her sword. “Don’t blame me when you come back with half your limbs missing.”

Keeping Measle and Jackdaww in clear view, she slowly hobbled across the road as fast as she could, keeping in to the buildings once she reached them as she headed deeper into the city again, hoping she could find some other SR troops, and then hopefully a competent healer.

==X==

When Kagan agreed with him, Rilos couldn’t help but feel relieved. From what he knew of the goblin, it would have been like him to bait the sunblaze more, and that would not have been a good turn of events. He took a quick glance below him to check where they were, hoping that once the sunblaze had had enough, he could just make a quick escape off over the forest. Towards the lake- yes, that was a good plan, wash off all the blood. Sure enough, she quickly announced her boredom (finally, she would leave them alone!), and they were just crossing out of the city too. As long as she wasn’t bored enough to attack him, it was all looking good.

He yelped in fright as she suddenly ducked underneath him, terrified that she really was going to attack him. She just laughed and flew off though, leaving him and Kagan far behind. Cutting his flight even more, he breathed a deep sigh of relief and turned east, towards the Everplains- the further away from that demoness, the better.
“I really hope we don’t run into her again,” he said when he was sure she was out of earshot. The Everplains looked like a very tempting option now, and he wasn’t going to stop for anything. He felt a little guilty he didn’t go back and try and find Atleon to report, but he could be anywhere, and his wounds were starting to tell on him again. No, he would leave it at that.

((I’m taking both Static and Rilos out of this now; Echo, if you want Kagan dropped off, just PP in your next post and he can get back to the ground. Wink

))

If he had retained his memory of the past few years, perhaps Vann would have reacted differently to Zartear's speech. He had been hardened then, almost to a point of uncaring. But now he was still idealistic and clung to the righteous truths of his order; that violence solved little, that violence could only be stopped after it was understood. So he listened and watched, his hands paused over a rough wrap job around the forearm of a woman clutching her baby tightly to her chest, the sword wound he had bound ceasing in its bleeding for the moment. All around him there was silence, faced turned as one to regard their new ruler, for there was no longer any question about his intentions. He had come as conqueror, and they were the prize. But as his impassioned speech wound on, Vann started to piece together things about the battle that had resulted in their communal capture.

The Guardians had been here? That was a surprise, to say the least. He looked to the sky and saw no dragons cloaked in glowing magic like saviors sent from on high, swooping to protect them. Instead, his gaze was only met with the rolling black smoke that came from any number of points in the city. The fearful murmur that came from the woman he was treated confirmed the fact that at least one Guardian had in fact been here, and was forced to retreat. That gave him doubts, creeping up from the deepest places of a man's heart where secrets sleep until bidden. Perhaps the Guardians weren't everything the legends told? They were worshiped with a reverence that other cultures would give to their gods, and yet when they were needed, there was nobody here to defend them. Where was the Elder council? Where were the armies? An attack of this scale couldn't possible have gone completely unnoticed, and he continued to remark on Quinsilla. So, this wasn't even the first attack? The citizens had been the only standing army? Untrained, under-defended and without any realistic hope of winning?

It is a sad truth. A gentle voice whispered, and Vann's head snapped up to see who had uttered the words. A sad truth, but still truth. His path is lined with blood and glory. Do you stand with or against that?

"Who is talking?" He asked of the empty air, drawing a curious look from the woman he had been tending, her gaze still lined with a fair amount of fright.

I am you. The voice replied, amused. We are the same, I is We, and together We are Us. One of body but two of mind, the push and the pull, the dark and the light. But who is which, I wonder? Neither is the answer, yet both is correct. How curious.

Vann looked to the pink dragon, now at Zartear's side where he was reliving the gentle thing in a show of compassion and mercy, and wondered if perhaps it was her talking, though the voice sounded entirely different than her gentle words. Again, the voice chuckled. Do not look outside yourself to find where you are. I am here always. Within and on the surface, throughout and thoroughly. Questioning whether or not I am really here has an answer that is already known. What do you gain by dwelling on it? Instead you should be asking yourself this: To where do I go? What shall be my purpose, and what path shall I choose? These are questions worth answering, for they are defining.

None of this is making any sense…. He did not think to whatever voice was whispering nonsense in his head, but it seemed to hear him anyway.

When does it ever make any sense?

Vann was beginning to think that whatever was in his head delighted in turning his questions back on him. It certainly seemed amused enough. I can't leave. The soldiers would prevent that.

Logical, but unexciting. Keep going.

I need to understand how I got here. And this really was the root of his problem when it came to indecision. He simply didn't know enough to move forward. Why was he here, for what purpose, and how long had he been gone? Years stretched behind him with no recollection. It was one big blank spot in his memory. His eyes flicked to the man upon the dais, his speech now finished and the pile of bodies was set alight. Perhaps I will follow this man. I've no wish to become a slave.

Ah, and now we can move forward. With a chuckle, Vann could feel that the voice was pleased with his decision, though his attention turned to a strange girl that had simply risen up from nowhere, a ghastly thrall in tow. Now there is someone who knows what she wants.

As Armeno swiftly followed Atleon from the shop, he hated the fact that he couldn’t hold his sword at the ready. His ears were pricked on alert as he skimmed along the walls, eyes flicking from side to side as he scanned the streets repeatedly for any sign of life. When they reached the pub, he thankfully stepped into the building and stepped sideways so that he couldn’t be seen through the door. As Atleon opened the trapdoor, Armeno took advantage of the moment to rearrange his load to make it more manageable. He gave a brisk nod at Atleon’s encouraging sentence, wondering whereabouts in Racksom they would strike. Surely the city couldn’t be so different from when he had left it? At least, not before the war had ravaged it... He wondered why there hadn’t been enough warning for all the guardians and at least some of the elite warriors to arrive. He would have to find out everything that had happened in his absence from somebody at some point.

For now though, there were more pressing matters at hand. Armeno nodded once more at Atleon’s instructions. There would be no point in trying to use his sword- if they were attacked, they would be outnumbered by soldiers who weren’t as exhausted as him. The elf swiftly removed the heavy sheath from his belt and carefully set it on the floor of the tunnel, along with the chest. Neither would be an asset during their task, but would just slow him down and get in his way. Atleon seemed to be psyching himself up to open the trapdoor. Armeno realised that it must be heavy and stood next to the prince to help him open it, but before he could even touch it, it was wrenched open from outside. Instantly, the elf leapt backwards and reached for his sword, momentarily forgetting that his hands were full of bottles and he couldn’t possibly pick up the weapon.

He didn’t expect to find that Atleon apparently knew the newcomer. They both looked shocked to see each other, and she looked like one of Zartear’s troops. He decided that wariness would be the best option and bent to pick up his sword, carefully placing the bottles on the floor.
‘If you’re going to have a chat, do it inside,’ he hissed at the two of them. ‘The longer the trapdoor’s open, the more likely it is that we’ll be seen.’

Jackdaww noticed static moving away instantly, and Measle felt him shift on his back as if to follow her, but refused to move. His wing hurt, and he could feel the dampness of Jackdaww’s bloody leg against his side. “No, Jack. It’s not worth it. Let her go.” He whispered, standing perfectly still. Jackdaww swore violently, before sighing and nodding.
“You’re right, of course. I shan’t press the matter. Now, however, we are going to find out who that woman is.” He demanded. Measle stepped forward again, deciding that for once he had nothing to loose.

Starling, however, wasn’t having it. She thought about calling after Static, but decided that it was better to let her escape while she could. However, when she spotted that the dragon and rider were coming her way, she made a very rash decision. She wasn’t going to let him get any closer with his shiny sword, but she wanted to do some damage as she ran. The bloodshed must have gone to her head or something, as she was usually peaceful, and just hours ago the idea of taking a life had sickened her. However, in a moment of madness, she grabbed the short sword and found her footing. The weapon felt odd in her hands, as she was no swordswoman, but she could hold it well enough. She glared at the dragon and rider, and then started to run.

Her light bones let her run fast, and she caught them by surprise. Holding the sword out to one side, she dashed close by, jabbing out with the sword. The dragon’s reflexes kicked in, pulling the pair away, but the tip of the sharp sword caught them both. The man’s already injured leg was gashed by the blade’s tip, and the metal pierced the dragon’s scales in a long line. They both yelped, and the dragon gave a crackling roar, but they were distracted enough to let her run. She did so as fast as she could, and made her way into the mass of streets to look for a way out. She would rejoin the other rebels once they escaped the city – hopefully as the victors, but she couldn’t tell.

Jackdaww howled as the odd woman’s sword tore his flesh. He heard Measle roar in turn, and knew that neither of them were going to follow the group. He looked back at the tunnel they had emerged from, before looking at the walls. Outside the battle was still heated, but there was a haven of quiet further into the city. Measle limped in the opposite way to the odd woman, and headed towards whatever peace they could find in the hope of escaping once the battle had died down. Then, they could search for a healer, as the DDC troops rounded up their dead and wounded.

(ooc;; Tha’s Jackdaww, Measle and Starling out of this one now Wink

Cya in the next plot)

Damned dragons and their damned fires. How dare they burn down the building he was in, he could have seriously burned! Then where would he be? And it felt as if a few of his pages had been scorched on the edges, and how was that supposed to be fixed? There was no way in hell they could be replaced; the pages he had were from when he had been first crafted, and their removal would make the information, the memory, lost to the world (and more importantly, him) forever. Oh, but it was no matter. He sensed that that dimwit Alice was still alive, and more or less intact, so he called to her, not without a little force, to come and find him, and pick him out off ll the dust and debris. He allowed her mind to have its little musings, he knew her mind was blackened to the point of only furthering her weakness to him, until he heard a voice: Strong and commanding, with confidence brimming from the tantalizingly dark words. Now this was the kind of power, the kind of chaos, that Underlund loved. "Indeed he will, my precious girl." Underlund murmured, the eye embedded in his cover turning up to look at her. Fool.

Underlund let his eye wander as Alice spirited him around the ruined remains of the city which had just recently stood proud, reveling in the destruction and carnage. Someday, someday soon, he would be the cause of such carnage. But not now. For now, that powerful voice beckoned them. Hell, why not even have a little entourage, the tome granting its carrier a servant of bones. Of course, the fact that Alice was prostrating herself at this man sent dark shivers up Underlund's spine, but for the moment he bore the outrage: this man could be his best chance at regaining what he had lost. And besides, no doubt this man would try to take Underlund, a gesture which he could not, in all honesty, would be a bad thing, however this man had a bit too much free will, and he had already broken in this girl. No use wasting all that progress.

Lotharia walked slowly by Zartears side, the collar around her neck burning deep into her skin if she otherwise did so. He was keeping a tight leash on her as well and her thoughts drifted to Talos and his group for a short moment, contemplating on whether or not she should contact them. Her thoughts were interrupted however when Zartear had stopped moving and began talking to the people below him. Treating such creatures as slaves by choice or die, and her heart ached for them but there was nothing she could do. She had never once seen a day of battle, let alone fought with anything. The most she had done was struggle against the giant Tribal Battle blood that was Xaoc and that was terrifying.

Her attention was brought back to the present when she felt a hard tug on her chains, forcing her to step forward a few feet. He was using her as example, setting her free from the chains. She knew that she wasn’t really free, she couldn’t fly and there were guards everywhere. It was also more than likely that the magic wasn’t fully undone on her either. Whichever way, Lotharia couldn’t help the small breath of relief she gave when the burning metal was off of her skin. She stood still until Zartear had finished what he was saying, keeping an eye on him as her feathery tail flicked back and forth silently.

“Your promise of freedom is a false veil put over their eyes to trust you in their confusion.” She spoke the obvious statement to Zartear, keeping her tone soft. “Hunger, pain, and fear are strong forces for self preservations for humans and creatures alike, young ruler, it saddens me greatly to see you do this to your own kind..But I will not fight you. It would only be to my disadvantage.” There was a slight hint of dissatisfaction to her voice that was gone as quick as it came and she turned making her way down to the people on the ground.

“Why are you SR? Siofra! What in the name of the dragons are you doing?!” Atleon couldn’t get a grasp on what he was seeing, how this could even remotely be true. How could the one person he knew so well in this world be aligning herself with the biggest enemy Dragon’s Cove had yet had to face?

“Well, no one of the Dragon’s Cove defenders was around to do anything about it,” she grunted in reply, holding out her hand to help the prince and his friends out of the tunnels, since that was obviously the way they had been headed. Atleon waved off Armeno’s comment: “We have to get out and moving anyways.” Quickly, he took Siofra’s hand and in turn offered his own to help up the other two before he turned back to Siofra, replying in a rather grumpy manner: “What’s that supposed to mean?!” However, Atleon knew very well what she was referring to. Even now the defenders were relatively scarce and he couldn’t blame anyone for taking that as a bad sign or as a reason for being angry.

“What do you want to hear, Atleon? People are scared and confused. There is no one to guide them, there is no one to explain them what is going on. Even that poor soul Talos does not have the necessary strength to lead them further than into a lost battle, although the kid has spirit. Where were your defenders, your soldiers when Quinsilla was burned to the ground? Where were your guardians when the rebellion marched on Racksom? Where are they even now?” Siofra spoke with a fierce voice, meaning every word, though she did not mean them in the way Zartear meant them, whose voice was ringing out wide over Racksom as if on cue. She intended them to open his eyes, their eyes, as she briefly glanced at the two other people in Atleon’s tow. “You know just as well as I do that people are beginning to lose hope and the fact that only one measly guardian made an appearance to fight for Racksom and then disappeared even before the battle was completely over does not really infuse anyone with a lot of hope!”

Atleon pressed his lips together, knowing full well that the half-elf was absolutely right with every word she said. He was himself disappointed in the lack of defence or the lack of everything really that Racksom had presented, even after he had told them something was wrong just before he had left to inspect Quinsilla. Not even the fact that Atleon had never returned hadn’t proven much of an incentive to do anything constructive.

“You shouldn’t worry about which symbol I’m carrying but rather about the information I might be able to provide you with.” Siofra shot the prince an angry look. “But your friend is right, we need to get out of sight if you want to continue chit-chatting.”

Atleon shook his head in response and turned back to Armeno and Sandy. “We need to move, we have something to take care of.” With a look towards Siofra and her intriguing companion, he added sourly: “And I hope the majesties are not going to hinder us in it.”

“You are unbelievable,” Siofra hissed. “Do you have so little trust in me these days that you really think I am on this side because I actually want to fight for them?!” With those words, she angrily thrust her hand in the air, pointing down the alley. “Xavien and me will give you cover as much as we can, but I can’t guarantee what I will do once Surahnians appear on the horizon. We have a cover to keep up.” At Atleon’s look, she simply replied: “Just be warned. You know I’m a terribly accurate shot.”

Atleon puffed out a breath of air at this and rolled his eyes, but a smile did slip onto his face. “Alright, let’s get moving.” With that, he motioned for the others to follow him and headed down the alley toward the rebel camp, hoping to be done as quickly as possible so they could finally leave this forsaken place. Racksom held nothing for them anymore, they might just as well turn their backs on it like everyone else had by now.

While Atleon and Siofra snapped at one another, Armeno stood tensely with his sword in hand. He couldn’t figure out how the two knew each other, but apparently the woman hadn’t always been aligned with the Surahnians.

Still, it seemed Atleon hadn’t lost his head completely, as he helped them out of the tunnels. Armeno carefully placed the bottles on the ground outside before taking Atleon's hand and quickly climbing out of the trapdoor. Despite the fact that Siofra didn’t seem like she was about to attack, he stayed ready to fight, his hand keeping a tight grip on the hilt of his weapon. When the prince continued to bicker with his friend, the elf let out an irritated sigh, itching to get moving. But the conversation proved to hold some interest for him. The woman’s words had truth to them; where had Dragons Cove’s defences been? What had happened to the island in his absence? It had been decades since the island was last attacked; perhaps they were simply unprepared, but it seemed like something of a fatal mistake. Definitely something he would have to look into- it wasn’t his place to, but it was his nature.

When Atleon finally moved on, Armeno followed him with a slight feeling of relief, after putting his sword back into the tunnel for safekeeping. Hanging around was hardly going to help their cause, after all. The elf’s eyes repeatedly combed over their surroundings as he checked for any threat, hating how both of his arms were full of the bottles. They made relatively fast progress, travelling along a couple of small streets in order to avoid the Surahnians who were moving around the city.

Armeno slowed when they reached the end of an alley and saw the camp directly ahead of them. It had spilt inside the city, and he hoped that they would be able to make a clean getaway straight back down the path they had come from. For now, he saw no reason to delay and so he swiftly pulled the stoppers from the mouth of three of the bottles. Hoping that the humans would follow his lead, the elf sprinted into the middle of the camp, dribbling trails of the liquid as he went. He was careful not to go too close to the fire, but he splashed it over everything else he could get to.

It literally took Sandy about a minute to reconcile that there was another presence among them. She had been stood, sword in sheath and as vulnerable as anything for however long they had been stood still in the tunnels for. Thank goodness she was with people she knew, otherwise by the look of her, they would presume she had given up hope they way she looked. This feeling wasn’t one she was familiar with, not for a long time, anyway.
The bickering between the half-elf, apparently known as Siofra, and Atleon took place, it again took a lot longer than normal for her to click that they knew each other.
Sandy glanced over to Armeno for a moment to see if there was anything she was missing, whether he was merely stood listening to their conversation as well. Slowly, her eyes strayed down to his sword tightly grasped in his hand. AT that moment, she returned her eye line back to her own sword, neatly tucked away in its holder. Why hadn’t she withdrawn her sword? it was a bit late now, since it was obvious the woman wasn’t here to attack. But then again, she was now moaning about the lack of help from the guardians, so she couldn’t be on their side.
She wanted desperately to argue with her. She wanted to shout at them all for thinking the guardians would abandon them. Could they not think? The guardians left to go someplace else. Think what that place might be. They could either stay and fight a losing battle or try and be one step ahead for another. She knew Silverwing would never leave a city in a state like this unless it was for something very important. Why could no one else see this?!
However, her racing mind in relation to her weary body could only pull out a few words. “You...…you don’t understand...” But by the time her pathetic whimper had escaped her lips, they were on the move again.

Everyone seemed to be moving incredibly fast, so fast she could barely keep up. When it was her turn to be pulled up from the tunnels, she felt guilty beyond relief for not being able to provide as much support for herself as she would have liked to have done. The next stage happened so quickly as well. One minute they were stood talking, the next there was an elf running into the middle of an enemy camp. Clumsily, she began to fiddle around in her pockets to find those explosive sticks. All the while, the blackness in the back of her mind was slowly making its way round to her eyes. Everytime she blinked, her eyelids became heavier and heavier. She doubted even adrenaline could keep her going now.

Atleon was not one for running head first into enemy territory but seeing that they pretty much were in enemy territory right about everywhere now and they had no more time to lose, the prince followed Armeno’s somewhat rushed run into the Surahnians’ camp. “Get rid of everything you have, burn the tents, poison their food, do whatever damage you can! And then let’s get out of here!” He had not noticed Sandy’s deteriorating condition, the girl being completely and utterly exhausted from the day’s events. She had given far too much of herself and now her body was demanding retaliation. He had noticed her weak grip as she had been pulled out of the tunnels but he had not paid it much attention. However now, when he turned around for Sandy and noticed she was a little behind and having trouble to find the things she was looking for in her pocket, he quickly backtracked to her.

“Wait, let us take care of it. Siofra, take her back to the tunnels, she is too weak by now.” Siofra merely nodded and grabbed Sandy’s arm for support when Atleon turned back to the girl. “She will take care of you if anything happens. Wait for us in the tunnels, Armeno and me will get you out of here.”

Siofra quickly tugged on Sandy’s arm to get the girl to follow her as she headed back towards the tunnels. She did not like leaving Atleon like this but there was still Xavien who could have the men’s backs if it was needed. So far, they were in luck and the Surahnians were not even around but she knew the patrols would come this way again soon and they better were done before the shit hit the fan.

“Armeno, as soon as you’re done, head back! Get Sandy back to that horse of yours and run like hell until we’re clear of Racksom!” The prince fiddled with sacks of rice and every sort of food supply he could find. If they managed to burn down everything, this was not even needed but he preferred to take precautions just in case those bloody rebels suddenly showed up and managed to contain the fire and salvage their supplies.

“Fire, Armeno!” Atleon shouted at the elf while he himself already stooped down to try and create a few sparks with what he had found amongst the supplies. A few sparks should probably be enough to set it all ablaze, or at least he hoped so. And hell, he was right. As soon as he managed to get sparks flying, the liquid, Armeno had found in the shop and poured over the cloth, caught so quickly that Atleon barely managed to get his face and hands out of the way. His shirt however, or whatever was left of it by now, was not quite as lucky. Cursing, Atleon let the flames take care of the tents themselves and ripped off his shirt, throwing it into the rapidly growing fire while he was already running back for the tunnels.

“FIRE! INTRUDERS! GET THEM!”

Suddenly, there were screams from every side, even though there had been nobody around seconds earlier. “Bloody patrols,” Atleon cursed once more as he put on a burst of speed in direction of the tunnels. If the rebels turned the corner into the alley and saw Siofra and Xavien, both of them would be doomed and their cover blown. Calling out to Xavien not to watch their backs anymore, he motioned for him to get in a defensive position for the camp. Siofra looked up from where she had just helped Sandy into the tunnel and immediately ran away a few steps, positioning herself close to Xavien but in such a way that to anyone else it would look as if they had just stumbled upon the intruders themselves.

“You know there’s no other way, Atleon,” the half-elf said as he ran past her.

“I know,” he replied, trying to brace himself for what was about to come. The tunnels were within a few paces when the rebels rounded the corner and the arrow hit.

At Atleon’s command, Armeno gave a sharp nod. He splashed the last of the third bottle over a small crate of food, dropped the empty container on the ground, and turned to the fire with the last bottle in hand. He was about to throw its contents over the fire, planning to ignite the trails of liquid with the huge fireball that would ensue, but it was obviously unnecessary as Atleon grappled for a spark. Instead, the elf sprinted away from the area just in time to escape the flames that burst up when the spark touched the liquid. A group of soldiers clattered in front of him and he didn’t hesitate to chuck the contents of the last bottle over them, igniting the liquid with a flick of his fingers that produced a spark. He ignored the screams of the men as they burnt, running around them and racing to the tunnel ahead of Atleon. He leapt in through the trapdoor just behind Sandy and grabbed her arm, supporting her as he continued to sprint, now running along the tunnel.

After a relatively short distance, he slowed his pace and then stopped.
‘Lean against the wall for a moment,’ he instructed Sandy. As he rummaged in an inside pocket of his clothing, he too used the wall for support, tired from the spark he had created- not to mention the general exertion of the battle.
‘Aha,’ he murmured as he drew a small, round fruit from the pocket. He peeled off a strip of the thick, leathery skin to reveal tiny orbs of flesh, like one might find in a pomegranate, embedded in the white pulp on the inside of the skin. He scraped off several, holding them carefully in his palm, and stared at them for a few moments. They were in a vibrant array of red and orange tones, providing a bright colour in the dim tunnel which was lit only by the torch that he had grabbed from the wall on their way in. With a sigh, he tipped the palmful of fruit into his mouth and grimaced at the burning sensation on his tongue that followed. He swallowed it down with a shudder and stood against the wall for a few moments before exhaling heavily and straightening.

‘Alright, let’s go,’ he said to Sandy, bending his knees and easily picking her up. He began to run smoothly along the tunnel, faster than a human would have travelled, though not supernaturally so.

When they reached the place where Armeno had left Velox, he set Sandy down and flexed his arms before peering cautiously out of the tunnel entrance. He couldn’t see anyone around, and so he took the horse’s reins and led the stallion out of the tunnels. Velox looked extremely relieved to be out in the open again. The elf helped Sandy from the tunnels and then offered her a leg up onto Velox’s back. Once she was settled there, the horse not looking overly pleased with the new rider but behaving himself for the most part, Armeno swiftly led Velox along the streets until he found the body of a Surahnian lying on the ground. He quickly stripped the man down to his underwear and removed his own outer layers. He pulled on the Surahnian-marked clothing over the thin underlayer he wore, raising his eyebrows at the Surahnian-marked underwear the corpse sported. However, he doubted anyone would bother to check his underclothes, and so once he was dressed in the clothes he had taken he stuffed his own battlestained clothes into his saddlebags.

Hearing hooves on the cobbled streets, he whirled and straightened. He had no way to hide the mostly naked body beside him, and he was sure that most soldiers would be able to figure out that the elf was no Surahnian. But much to his relief-and surprise- the horse that rounded the corner had no rider on its back, and had a coat of an extremely distinctive colour.
‘Tamarisk,’ he murmured. The stallion seemed pleased to see him, and his friend Velox, trotting over to them. Armeno wasted no time in mounting Kassandra’s horse and moving off on his back. He could return the knabstrupper when he saw Kassandra in a month... Assuming they both made it there. Velox followed him through the city, the elf choosing the quickest route possible to get out- while he might pass as a Surahnian by sight, if he was stopped and questioned then there would be no such guarantee.

Pain was exploding in Atleon’s side and clouded his vision for a moment as the force of the blow propelled him the remaining few steps into the tunnel. Holy crap, she really knew what she was doing. It would definitely look very real to any outsiders, but did she have to shoot that arrow so hard? Panting, the prince tried to lift himself up off the ground of the tunnel, losing precious seconds as the world began spinning around him, but soon, he had himself under control again and began trotting down the tunnel the same way they had come from.

He knew Siofra was going to hold the soldiers off his back for a while so he could try and get used to running with the stinging pain in his side, but it was still uncomfortable. He was glad that Armeno and Sandy had both disappeared into the tunnels before the soldiers had come; the elf’s spark trick had really been a nice way to hold them off a while longer. Quite a ways ahead, he could hear Armeno’s footsteps, which could only mean that he was carrying Sandy. They were all exhausted and in desperate need of rest, but at least, they now knew they were soon going to get it.

The prince kept following Armeno’s footsounds, glad when he finally heard the sounds of a horse as well, it meant they could soon get back out of the tunnels. Just as he had finished the thought, the sound of hooves vanished, and Atleon sent a wish skywards that Armeno would not get in further trouble outside. The prince himself continued along the tunnels for a little while longer. He would only slow the elf and the girl down if they had to wait for him. The horse could not carry three people. It was easier for them to find their way out, worst case running or jumping over the rebels if they got in the way and run as fast as they could. The tunnels dwindled left and right a little but they soon led to the very outskirts of Racksom, steadily descending lightly as they continued, and a few steps later, Atleon breathed in relief as the tunnel began climbing a little again. He was under the walls of Racksom, he was now out.

The first breath of fresh air was a relief. The wound in his side had stopped throbbing but an odd dull feeling was spreading through his whole side and he had trouble lifting his right arm now as well. If he had to fight, he would either be captured or die. There was no way he could wield a sword now, not even with his left hand.

All of a sudden, at that exact thought, there was a sound in the bushes nearby and Atleon’s heart almost stopped. It was too late to hide and he was incapable of sprinting away. Wearily, he waited for his doom to pass over him when the bristling of leaves grew louder and a horse suddenly stepped into view. “Shetan?!” Atleon breathed, utter relief washing over him. Not only was he safe for another day but he had also found transportation. “I’m sure Siofra won’t mind me borrowing you.” The horse looked at him but then finally stepped closer as it recognised its mistresses’ close friend. After several vain tries to lift himself into the saddle like this, Shetan went down on one knee to facilitate climbing into his saddle. Atleon was grateful for the little tricks the stallion had learned from Siofra and as soon as he was up, he patted the black and urged him forward and away from Racksom.

“Why would you let him escape?! Are you blind?! That was the prince, you should have captured him!” Siofra whirled around to the Surahnian soldier who had dared address her in such a rude manner, her face portraying only fury. It was mainly directed at the man’s impoliteness and insubordination but also at the fact that the arrow had hit Atleon much harder than she had wanted it to hit him. She knew he was going to survive, but he was going to suffer far more pain than had been necessary and it had not been her intention.

“Do you know who you’re talking to, minion?!” Raising her bow with yet another arrow strapped to it, she pointed it at the man’s face. “You better watch your tongue…” She let the threat hanging in the air without bothering to finish the sentence, the man’s pale face was speaking volumes. But still he dared to say: “But you missed him, he’s not even incapacitated!”

Growling, Siofra replied: “I guess there is a reason why Cato is Bowmaster and not me.Take this as a warning, soldier! From your Second in Command!” And with that she shifted her bow, quick as lightning, and loosened the arrow into his foot, full-force before she turned around to the others, ignoring the man’s pained howl.

“Take care of the the fire, rescue what there is to rescue and report this to your general. Now!” As the rest of the men did not move, hesitating between going after Atleon and taking care of their wounded comrade, her voice turned cold as ice. “Don’t make me repeat myself.” The next arrow was already knocked to the string and the soldiers knew better than to try their luck. They’ve had experiences like this before. “We’re going after the evasive prince,” Siofra added, and then she turned on her heel and headed towards the tunnel opening in which Atleon had disappeared.

Atleon’s voice brought her vision back for a few more seconds so she could concentrate on what was going on at the minute. But what she heard she didn’t like. She wanted to protest she could help. But then again, she wanted to protest against herself, and the state she had allowed herself to get in. She didn’t even remember how she got like this. Speaking a response would be hopeless, so instead she gave a feeble nod. Only just as she was about to raise her head, the woman who had seemed to appear from no where had a hold of her arm and was literally dragging her back over to where the tunnels began.
Seconds rolled into minutes and within heartbeats there was a huge blaze of fire. The darkness that was slowly creeping away from the back of her mind seemed to be frozen for a short amount of time as the blazing flames danced around the camp. She should be used to this by now, after running head-first into a war. But there was something about it that-

Someone else was now tugging on her arm and before she could turn to see who it was she was yet again getting pulled away. The next thing she knew, the elf had lifted her up onto a horse’s back and they were cantering out of the tunnels. Her mind didn’t allow her to think straight, she couldn’t wonder where they were heading or where Atleon was.
Everytime she moved with the horse’s footfalls, the darkness gradually began to creep over her again. No... She muttered to herself, but before she could finish her sentence, it took over and she was plunged into the blackness.

» (C1, Racksom) The Making of Men (12th Board)
» Tremors in the Earth....C1, Racksom (4th Board)
» (North of Azure caves, east of Racksom) ~~~~Peace in the Everplains~~~~6th Board
» The Destruction of Quinsilla.....T1 (1st Board)
» (C1, Racksom) Surnames in Surahnia (19th Board)

C1 Racksom~~~~And then, there was War~~~~(5th Board)

C1 RacksomAnd then, there was War(5th Board)