The world spun crazily as she opened her eyes, and for a moment Biara could see nothing but a gray blur. Her head ached miserably, but she felt otherwise mostly intact. As she blinked her eyes, her vision came into focus and she saw tall grasses waving in front of her face. She was laying on the ground on her side, and she rolled over slightly until she was on her back.
Above her, the sky was a strange pink color, and it took several minutes of studying it before she realized she was looking at shielding that the Ethereals had put in place to protect structures from stormstrikes in Netherstorm. Once she came to this conclusion, Biara sat up slowly, letting her body adjust to the leftover bits of magic that were flowing through her. She noticed to her distaste that all of her clothing was wet down to her undergarments, and her hair was soaked and lay lank against her chilled skin.
"Fantastic," Biara murmured to herself. "Even so, it is far preferable to being dead I suppose."
She slowly got to her feet, brushing some bits of grass that were stuck to her wet clothes off before checking her surroundings. As she had first determined, she was indeed at the Stormspire in Netherstorm, and she could see several Ethereals in the distance standing amongst the structures there. She was off in a small clearing in the foliage, with tall grasses all around her waving gently in the breezes within the contained environment.
"I'm not going to ask how or why, I'm just going to go home. Kyli is probably worried sick," Biara said to no one. She brought her hands up and began to chant, opening a portal to Silvermoon. The portal flickered to life in front of her, the golds and reds of Silvermoon calling to her. Without hesitation she stepped into it, intent on heading home.
As she contacted the portal, Biara knew immediately that something was terribly wrong. A wracking pain arced through her body and she felt as if she was being bent and crushed by incredible forces. Pain rose up to swallow her and blackness claimed her as her portal malfunctioned.
************************
With a familiar dull ache in her head, Biara opened her eyes to see nothing but a gray blur. She took a deep breath, letting her body adjust for a moment before looking again. Tall grasses waved in front of her face, and she blinked in surprise to find herself laying in the same spot on the soft soil. Above her the flickering pink of the Ethereal shields continued to repel lightning strikes from the hostile environment outside.
"Okaaaay, that's a little strange," Biara murmured as she sat up. She again brushed bits of grass from her soaking wet dress and took stock of her situation. She was indeed in the exact same location she had just awoken in previously, and as she rose she saw the same Ethereals in the distance standing amongst some of the structures of the Stormspire. As she stared at them, she realized that they were standing and moving in the exact same way they had been the first time she looked at them. An eerie sense of deja vu filled her as she realized she was staring at the exact same scene.
"I don't know what is going on here, but if a portal doesn't work I will have to do this the old fashioned way and travel to the nearest Horde outpost," Biara said to herself. With this thought in mind, she brought her hands up and cast a spell, causing a ball of fire to hover in the air before her. She quickly stripped off her clothes down to her undergarments, standing nearly naked in front of the fireball and letting its heat warm her skin and dry her hair. She held her clothing up one piece at a time, drying each item before the flames. Once everything was dry, she donned her clothing again and set off at a brisk walk, heading for the elevator that would lead down from the top of the Stormspire.
**************************
Biara had traveled for many hours before the strange suns and moons of the Outlands began to sink below the horizon. True night never came to the twisted remnants of the shattered world, but it would soon be dark enough to sleep. Biara had walked for quite some time, and was feeling tired and hungry and in sore need of a rest.
Finding a relatively secluded spot amongst the broken and destroyed remnants of rock that made up Netherstorm, she spoke a few words of magic, summoning a carpet down between two tumbled boulders. With her bed in place, she turned and began drawing wards in the broken soil, setting up defenses to protect her from any of the wandering creatures that roamed the desolate wastes.
Once she was satisfied that her rest would be undisturbed, Biara sank gratefully down on the carpet, sighing with relief. She pulled off her boots, letting the cool air soothe her aching feet as she leaned back on the carpet. With a few more spoken words of magic, a plate of delicious food appeared next to her, conjured up with a spell. Beside it sat a decanter of wine with a tall glass nearby. Biara poured some of the wine into the glass, holding it up in mock toast.
"Well, here's to a little unexpected vacation!" she said cheerfully, sipping the wine before moving on to the food.
Once she was full, she pushed the plate aside and sank back on the carpet, sighing with relief and closing her eyes. As she drifted off to sleep, her last thought was that Netherstorm was not all that bad. At least the sky was pretty.
****************************
The world spun crazily as she opened her eyes, and for a moment Biara could see nothing but a gray blur. The familiar dull ache was back in her head, and she took a moment to allow herself to recover. When she opened her eyes again, she saw tall grasses waving in her face.
This time she sat up abruptly, extremely alarmed. As she looked around, she recognized the same little clearing at the top of the Stormspire that she had awoken in the last two times. She looked down at herself and as she had half-expected, she was soaking wet again, her boots back in place on her feet.
"What in the nether...?" she murmured, rising quickly. Sure enough, in the distance were the same Ethereals talking amongst themselves, the feeling of deja vu even stronger now as she came to realize that they were in the exact same spots and moving the same way they had been before.
A feeling of panic set in as Biara realized she was being returned to the same spot in time each time she attempted to leave. She examined herself closely, studying the magic within herself to see if she could determine the cause. There was something off about the flow of energy around her, but she could not immediately identify it. It was as if her magic were shifted just out of reach of her scrutiny, and it was a bit unnerving.
Not knowing what else to do, Biara began to look around at her surroundings more closely, trying to discover what it was about this particular spot that kept drawing her back. The little clearing appeared to be normal, with no magic within it and nothing out of the ordinary. Biara took a deep breath and closed her eyes, reaching out to feel for magic nearby.
There! There is a powerful temporal force beyond the grasses just to the east.
Still soaking wet from her dip in the ocean, Biara strode across the clearing, parting the grasses with her hands. A thrilling shock ran through her as she saw what was beyond them, and she gasped aloud before stumbling back and falling to her knees.
Beyond the grasses she had seen a device, made both of technology and magic. It was not just any device though, it was a device that she had helped build. A device meant to manipulate time itself, that had been powered with her magic and keyed to her blood and the blood of one other in an oath of friendship and magic.
But that was not what had made her gasp, not what made her freeze in indecision. Standing by the device had been two people. One of them was a gnome, his hat so familiar to Biara that she could easily picture it simply by closing her eyes. The other person....the other person had been a Sin'dorei with bleached blonde hair that was wearing ragged clothing as if she was a pauper.
Biara knew though, knew that the elf was not a pauper and that the blonde coloration of her hair was not natural. Instead, it was a noblewoman who had disguised herself so that she could meet with her friend, a gnome, to work on a secret project with him. Her hair was that color because she had been cursed.
She knew these facts most intimately, because the gnome had been Jazari, and the elf had been....herself, Biara Dayfire.
The shock of knowing that she was stuck in time, and that she was so near to her own past self, was enough to make Biara's eyes roll up in her head as she fainted. Without a sound she sank to the ground, blackness claiming her again.
*******************************
When her eyes opened later, the tall grasses waved slowly in the breeze once more from her place on the ground.
Thursday, February 13, 2014
Friday, February 7, 2014
A Good Old Time
*Off the coast of Quel'Thalas in a place that had begun to be nicknamed 'Lover's Folly'*
The ship cut through the choppy waters, bopping up and down with each small whitecap that it struck as it made good speed towards the mass of vessels in the distance. A standard ship of Sin'dorei construction, it was an elegant vessel of gold and red, its mainsail catching the wind almost effortlessly as its expert crew guided it towards its destination. Atop the mast flew a single golden and red banner depicting the emblem of Silvermoon's Magistrate.
As the ships in the distance grew larger with proximity, Biara Sunfire walked along the deck of the Magistrate ship, her green eyes studying the flotilla keenly. There were a variety of ships at work in the area, most of them of goblin origin with odd shapes and designs. Quite a few of them were belching smoke and Biara found herself idly wondering if the clouds came from the engines or if the ships were genuinely on fire. Knowing goblins, the answer was likely both. Amongst the ragged collection of salvage vessels floated another ship, this one of Sin'dorei design and much larger than the ship Biara herself traveled on. Although she could not see it from such a great distance, she was quite sure that atop its own mast flew the proud banner of House Felo'melorn as they oversaw the salvage of the House Sunfire wreck beneath the waves.
As they drew nearer, the crew of the Magistrate vessel began to scurry around the deck, preparing to lower the sails to slow their speed. Biara watched them at work for a moment before returning her gaze to the sea. As she looked out over the water, she noticed two of the goblin vessels approaching them, the ships having broken away from the flotilla. Some voice of caution tickled the back of Biara's mind as she watched them, and she found herself gripping the gunwale firmly, staring hard at the ships now.
"Is something amiss, Magistrix Sunfire?" one of the deck crew asked. Another Sin'dorei stopped his work and looked over at Biara as well, concern on his face.
"There is something about those vessels..." Biara murmured. Her voice trailed off and the two crew members could see the wards sparkle on her face as she began to chant. A moment later she waved her hands towards the two vessels, completing the gestures needed for the counterspell.
What happened next could only be called astonishing as the two 'goblin' vessels began to shimmer, their forms wavering. A moment later the illusion around the two vessels shattered under the weight of Biara's magic, and in the place of goblin vessels were two heavily retrofitted orc ships, each with a large magical crystal on the deck and multiple decks of cannons along each side. The ominous looking vessels immediately picked up speed as their illusion broke, red and gold banners flapping atop their own masts.
"W-what...what is this?" one of the deckhands asked.
Biara merely shook her head, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach as she saw the familiar emblem of a sun breaking over the waves depicted on the ship's banners. Her voice was tight with tension as she replied, "House Dawnsea gunships. Looks like they picked up some Kor'kron vessels during the uprising."
Unfamiliar with House Sunfire's enemies, the deckhand closest to Biara shook his head in confusion, "What does it me-"
Biara turned abruptly, her eyes wide as she watched the gunports on the two ships open. She shouted, her cry carrying across the deck, "We're under attack! WATCH OUT!"
A second later she uttered the words to a blink spell, the magic curling around her and hurling her from the spot where she was standing not a moment too soon. Cannonballs spat from the sides of the first gunship, the projectiles covering the distance between the two vessels in a moment and slamming into the delicate observation ship the Magistrate had loaned to Biara. Explosions rocked the ship's deck, sending dead sailors and chunks of splintered wood in all directions.
Biara stumbled forward towards the aft of the ship as shouts of dismay rose up from the wounded and the echoes of more cannons firing sounded from the two gunships. She ran up the stairs leading to the ship's wheel as a shower of wood splinters rained down around her from two more direct hits to the center of the vessel. The Magistrate's ship was unarmed, and their only hope was to defend themselves with magic.
At the aft of the ship Biara skidded to a halt, crouching low as the sound of small arms fire came from the two gunships. Huddled beneath the cover of the gunwale were several mages who were part of the ships normal crew. Unused to battle, they huddled in a terrified clump while the captain battled to maintain control of the vessel's rudder.
Biara crouched beside them, her familiarity with combat making her voice firm and cutting through the cloying fear amongst the spellcasters, "We need to return fire or they'll destroy this vessel. We need to work together and hurl our spells as one. It's our only chance."
Several of the mages managed to nod at her, their pale faces full of fear but listening to her guidance. Biara gave them a reassuring nod, pointing towards the direction of the nearest ship, "On the count of three we rise and hurl our spells. Use fire. If you can set their ship alight they might have to withdraw. Aim true!"
The mages reluctantly prepared themselves, shifting in place. Several of them reached into their pouches or pulled out wands, preparing themselves for a battle they wanted no part of. Biara waited until another barrage of cannonballs slammed into the ship before beginning her count, knowing that the cannoneers would need time to reload.
"One....two....THREE!" she shouted.
As one the mages rose, six in all and each with fire on their fingertips. Biara lead the attack, hurling a fireball across the distance between the two ships, her spell striking the gunship's deck and exploding there, sending sailors plummeting into the ocean. The others followed suit, their own spells striking various parts of the deck and starting fires here and there. The last spell hurled was conjured by a young apprentice, and Biara watched in admiration as her carefully aimed fireball actually slipped through the opening of one of the gunship's gunports. A second later a massive explosion rocked the ship as one of its powder rooms detonated, blasting a gaping hole in the side of the vessel. It immediately began to take on water, fires raging out of control from beneath its deck.
Biara turned to congratulate the young apprentice, seeing her eyes shining with pride at her success. Unfortunately at that moment the second ship fired shrapnel from its cannons, sending sharpened, twisted bits of metal across the distance and clearing the deck of the Magistrate's vessel. Biara lurched forward as hot metal struck her wards, nearly penetrating them. Dozens of sailors died around her, and the young apprentice she had been about to congratulate was hurled to the deck, her shoulder a mess of gore and exposed bone.
The Magistrate's vessel began to list as it took on water from the numerous holes that had been made in its deck, and Biara knew they were out of time. She turned to shout orders to the captain of the vessel, only to see him laying in a pool of his own blood where he had died at the wheel. She shouted the words to another blink spell, moving herself to the ship's wheel and taking it in both hands. With as much muscle as she could apply, Biara jerked the ship's wheel, causing the vessel to heave up in the water and throwing the remaining survivors on board to the deck.
The Magistrate vessel began to turn suddenly, the bow cutting through the water even as another round of cannon fire cut its mast down. Rigging, bits of wood, and doomed sailors rained to the deck as Biara held tight to the ship's wheel, her jaw clenched from her efforts. In the distance, the sailors on the House Dawnsea vessel began to shout as the Magistrate ship turned towards them, still moving at a good clip from its previous momentum. As the two ships continued to move, it was clear that they would collide and that there was little that would stop the collision.
"Brace for impact!" Biara yelled as the sinking Magistrate vessel slammed into the House Dawnsea gunship. The impact threw her to the deck and for a moment she saw stars as her head slammed into the wood. A second later she was back on her feet, desperation in her voice as she saw water begin to collect on the deck of the Magistrate's vessel; they had precious little time left.
"Everyone who can still stand, BOARD THEIR SHIP! FOR QUEL'THALAS!" Biara shouted, casting another blink spell and reappearing at the bow of her own doomed ship. A second later she was scrambling across the twisted wood that temporarily connected the two vessels, a ragged handful of surviving crew members scrambling behind her, swords in hand as they prepared for a boarding action that had far too few attackers to succeed.
As the boarding party made it to the deck of the gunship, the Magistrate's vessel began to slip beneath the waves, smoke from the nearby burning ship obscuring their last sight of it. Around them a fierce melee had begun as House Dawnsea's sailors tried to repel the assault. Highly trained marines, the House Dawnsea sailors began to cut down the relatively poorly trained Magistrate troops with ease.
In the center of the battle, Biara began to shout, her magic hurled outwards in all directions. Sailors burned or were frozen or impaled by ice as they assaulted the tiny group, the bodies piling up on the deck as the brutal slaughter continued. It was clear to everyone that the boarding party would lose the fight, but Biara continued onward, her eyes locked on her objective ahead.
Across the deck two mages hurled spells at her, their ice shards impacting on her wards and shattering against them. One of the mages watched Biara walk through the melee, chips of razor sharp ice reflecting from her barriers and hovering in the air almost in slow motion before striking the deck. In that moment, his eyes came to meet Biara's gaze, and the understanding of what she was about to do sent a spear of fear into his heart.
There was no remorse on her face, no fear, no sorrow. As she relentlessly walked through the battle, the blood of the fallen stained her robes and weapons flashed near her, but her gaze remained locked with his. He saw her pride, her ambition, and most of all he saw her fury. He knew that there would be no surrender from her, no quarter, and that she would fight to the bloodiest of deaths before she would ever give an inch. In the gaze that passed between them, he came to know why some amongst the House Dawnsea soldiers had nicknamed her 'Biara the Butcher'.
For a moment, Biara paused, her gaze shifting from the mage to the crystal that he guarded, the one that had been used to cloak the ship in its illusions. It was there to serve the needs of the crew, empower their spells, and provide for magical sustenance if they desired such. A powerful artifact, it contained delicately prepared spells to contain all of the raw magic within it. It took Biara only a moment to focus on the weakest part of its wards, one perfectly manicured nail pointing at it as she spat out the words of her spell.
The fireblast rocked the crystal, shattering the delicate balance of power and causing it to surge throughout the structure, overloading it with all the violence of the magic contained within it.
A second later the magic was released, the explosion the last that the mages guarding it ever saw.
**************************************
In the distance, the House Felo'melorn ship that had been guarding the salvage site turned towards the battle, the concerned sailors on its decks preparing to intervene and stop the fight before it got any worse. As they made headway towards it, they peered through the thick smoke that had risen up from the burning gunship, trying to ascertain what was going on.
The explosion was almost blinding, and many of them shielded their eyes as the second gunship detonated in a catastrophic blast. In the distance they could see debris being hurled into the air, cannons, bits of wood, and even crew members flying out over the ocean before plunging into it with splashes here and there.
Although they couldn't see it, amongst those flying through the air was a flame-haired Magistrix whose robes had caught alight from the enormous blast. Her arc landed her near the burning ships, plunging her into the depths of the ocean.
*****************************************
It was cold, but the cold was soothing after nearly being on fire. Biara drifted in the water, the surface slipping away above her. She was in a daze, and her entire body ached from the concussion of the blast. Too tired and injured to swim, she watched almost passively as flickering lights of small explosions and fires illuminated the surface of the water, a firestorm consuming the remains of the three vessels above her.
And so this is how I die. It's fitting somehow, that I would die committing a massacre like my mother, but also die with valor fighting against my foes as my father would have wanted. I wonder if he will be proud of me, proud to know that I didn't give up even at the very end? It was how he raised me after all.
Above her the water's surface slipped further away, the cool darkness of the ocean's depths slowly claiming her. She knew that she had little time left, that the air in her lungs would expire and that there was no way now to take a breath or to rise back to the surface. All her power, all her magic could not change that fact.
It is strange to think that in another moment I will be gone. Time comes and goes for us all, but it always remains the constant behind it. I have but a moment of it left. At least the fires that consume my enemies above me are beautiful in their own way.
Her time was coming to an end, yet time itself would carry on. It made her think of her experiments with temporal magic; all of the various spells she had cast, had absorbed, and had even explored with others. It was odd to think of in that moment, but seemed fitting somehow when her own time was over. And yet her thoughts about time became more pressing as something strange began to happen.
It came to her in a wave of pain, the shock of it almost causing her to expel the last of her breath. It was akin to what divers described when they ascended from the depths too fast; tiny bubbles of agony flowing through her limbs. Biara knew that it was just a sensation however, even as she writhed in pain beneath the water. She had studied magic long enough to know that something was seriously wrong with her, that the magical fields from the exploding crystals above were interacting with something within her.
In the black depths of the ocean, Biara's eyes widened in horror as she came to realize it was not magic external to her, but magic that she had absorbed long ago. Magic that had been placed on a certain book that she was forbidden from reading. It was a spell that she had almost literally eaten in a sense, rising up to claim her now. A temporal lock placed on a tome so she could not get to it.
The temporal magic was within her, was within her blood. It was a little piece of time itself that could not die, that would not end with her death. Interacting with the wildly fluctuating magic above the water's surface where the crystal had detonated, it reached out to similar magic, similar spells sealed with blood.
And it found what it was seeking.
Biara brought a hand before her face, shocked to see it glowing so brightly that she could view it beneath the water's surface. She screamed as her entire body glowed, the spell colliding with the field above and whisking her away towards similar magic locked away elsewhere.
In her final moment, Biara's mind was filled with a wry thought that almost made her smile as she disappeared.
What have you done to me, Jazari?
*******************************
The surface of the water bubbled once as the space where the Magistrix had been beneath it was suddenly filled with empty vacuum from her sudden departure. It went unnoticed as three ships burned and sank beneath the waves, a testimony to the fury of the Scion of House Sunfire.
The rescue ships on the scene found no trace of Biara Sunfire amongst the wreckage.
The ship cut through the choppy waters, bopping up and down with each small whitecap that it struck as it made good speed towards the mass of vessels in the distance. A standard ship of Sin'dorei construction, it was an elegant vessel of gold and red, its mainsail catching the wind almost effortlessly as its expert crew guided it towards its destination. Atop the mast flew a single golden and red banner depicting the emblem of Silvermoon's Magistrate.
As the ships in the distance grew larger with proximity, Biara Sunfire walked along the deck of the Magistrate ship, her green eyes studying the flotilla keenly. There were a variety of ships at work in the area, most of them of goblin origin with odd shapes and designs. Quite a few of them were belching smoke and Biara found herself idly wondering if the clouds came from the engines or if the ships were genuinely on fire. Knowing goblins, the answer was likely both. Amongst the ragged collection of salvage vessels floated another ship, this one of Sin'dorei design and much larger than the ship Biara herself traveled on. Although she could not see it from such a great distance, she was quite sure that atop its own mast flew the proud banner of House Felo'melorn as they oversaw the salvage of the House Sunfire wreck beneath the waves.
As they drew nearer, the crew of the Magistrate vessel began to scurry around the deck, preparing to lower the sails to slow their speed. Biara watched them at work for a moment before returning her gaze to the sea. As she looked out over the water, she noticed two of the goblin vessels approaching them, the ships having broken away from the flotilla. Some voice of caution tickled the back of Biara's mind as she watched them, and she found herself gripping the gunwale firmly, staring hard at the ships now.
"Is something amiss, Magistrix Sunfire?" one of the deck crew asked. Another Sin'dorei stopped his work and looked over at Biara as well, concern on his face.
"There is something about those vessels..." Biara murmured. Her voice trailed off and the two crew members could see the wards sparkle on her face as she began to chant. A moment later she waved her hands towards the two vessels, completing the gestures needed for the counterspell.
What happened next could only be called astonishing as the two 'goblin' vessels began to shimmer, their forms wavering. A moment later the illusion around the two vessels shattered under the weight of Biara's magic, and in the place of goblin vessels were two heavily retrofitted orc ships, each with a large magical crystal on the deck and multiple decks of cannons along each side. The ominous looking vessels immediately picked up speed as their illusion broke, red and gold banners flapping atop their own masts.
"W-what...what is this?" one of the deckhands asked.
Biara merely shook her head, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach as she saw the familiar emblem of a sun breaking over the waves depicted on the ship's banners. Her voice was tight with tension as she replied, "House Dawnsea gunships. Looks like they picked up some Kor'kron vessels during the uprising."
Unfamiliar with House Sunfire's enemies, the deckhand closest to Biara shook his head in confusion, "What does it me-"
Biara turned abruptly, her eyes wide as she watched the gunports on the two ships open. She shouted, her cry carrying across the deck, "We're under attack! WATCH OUT!"
A second later she uttered the words to a blink spell, the magic curling around her and hurling her from the spot where she was standing not a moment too soon. Cannonballs spat from the sides of the first gunship, the projectiles covering the distance between the two vessels in a moment and slamming into the delicate observation ship the Magistrate had loaned to Biara. Explosions rocked the ship's deck, sending dead sailors and chunks of splintered wood in all directions.
Biara stumbled forward towards the aft of the ship as shouts of dismay rose up from the wounded and the echoes of more cannons firing sounded from the two gunships. She ran up the stairs leading to the ship's wheel as a shower of wood splinters rained down around her from two more direct hits to the center of the vessel. The Magistrate's ship was unarmed, and their only hope was to defend themselves with magic.
At the aft of the ship Biara skidded to a halt, crouching low as the sound of small arms fire came from the two gunships. Huddled beneath the cover of the gunwale were several mages who were part of the ships normal crew. Unused to battle, they huddled in a terrified clump while the captain battled to maintain control of the vessel's rudder.
Biara crouched beside them, her familiarity with combat making her voice firm and cutting through the cloying fear amongst the spellcasters, "We need to return fire or they'll destroy this vessel. We need to work together and hurl our spells as one. It's our only chance."
Several of the mages managed to nod at her, their pale faces full of fear but listening to her guidance. Biara gave them a reassuring nod, pointing towards the direction of the nearest ship, "On the count of three we rise and hurl our spells. Use fire. If you can set their ship alight they might have to withdraw. Aim true!"
The mages reluctantly prepared themselves, shifting in place. Several of them reached into their pouches or pulled out wands, preparing themselves for a battle they wanted no part of. Biara waited until another barrage of cannonballs slammed into the ship before beginning her count, knowing that the cannoneers would need time to reload.
"One....two....THREE!" she shouted.
As one the mages rose, six in all and each with fire on their fingertips. Biara lead the attack, hurling a fireball across the distance between the two ships, her spell striking the gunship's deck and exploding there, sending sailors plummeting into the ocean. The others followed suit, their own spells striking various parts of the deck and starting fires here and there. The last spell hurled was conjured by a young apprentice, and Biara watched in admiration as her carefully aimed fireball actually slipped through the opening of one of the gunship's gunports. A second later a massive explosion rocked the ship as one of its powder rooms detonated, blasting a gaping hole in the side of the vessel. It immediately began to take on water, fires raging out of control from beneath its deck.
Biara turned to congratulate the young apprentice, seeing her eyes shining with pride at her success. Unfortunately at that moment the second ship fired shrapnel from its cannons, sending sharpened, twisted bits of metal across the distance and clearing the deck of the Magistrate's vessel. Biara lurched forward as hot metal struck her wards, nearly penetrating them. Dozens of sailors died around her, and the young apprentice she had been about to congratulate was hurled to the deck, her shoulder a mess of gore and exposed bone.
The Magistrate's vessel began to list as it took on water from the numerous holes that had been made in its deck, and Biara knew they were out of time. She turned to shout orders to the captain of the vessel, only to see him laying in a pool of his own blood where he had died at the wheel. She shouted the words to another blink spell, moving herself to the ship's wheel and taking it in both hands. With as much muscle as she could apply, Biara jerked the ship's wheel, causing the vessel to heave up in the water and throwing the remaining survivors on board to the deck.
The Magistrate vessel began to turn suddenly, the bow cutting through the water even as another round of cannon fire cut its mast down. Rigging, bits of wood, and doomed sailors rained to the deck as Biara held tight to the ship's wheel, her jaw clenched from her efforts. In the distance, the sailors on the House Dawnsea vessel began to shout as the Magistrate ship turned towards them, still moving at a good clip from its previous momentum. As the two ships continued to move, it was clear that they would collide and that there was little that would stop the collision.
"Brace for impact!" Biara yelled as the sinking Magistrate vessel slammed into the House Dawnsea gunship. The impact threw her to the deck and for a moment she saw stars as her head slammed into the wood. A second later she was back on her feet, desperation in her voice as she saw water begin to collect on the deck of the Magistrate's vessel; they had precious little time left.
"Everyone who can still stand, BOARD THEIR SHIP! FOR QUEL'THALAS!" Biara shouted, casting another blink spell and reappearing at the bow of her own doomed ship. A second later she was scrambling across the twisted wood that temporarily connected the two vessels, a ragged handful of surviving crew members scrambling behind her, swords in hand as they prepared for a boarding action that had far too few attackers to succeed.
As the boarding party made it to the deck of the gunship, the Magistrate's vessel began to slip beneath the waves, smoke from the nearby burning ship obscuring their last sight of it. Around them a fierce melee had begun as House Dawnsea's sailors tried to repel the assault. Highly trained marines, the House Dawnsea sailors began to cut down the relatively poorly trained Magistrate troops with ease.
In the center of the battle, Biara began to shout, her magic hurled outwards in all directions. Sailors burned or were frozen or impaled by ice as they assaulted the tiny group, the bodies piling up on the deck as the brutal slaughter continued. It was clear to everyone that the boarding party would lose the fight, but Biara continued onward, her eyes locked on her objective ahead.
Across the deck two mages hurled spells at her, their ice shards impacting on her wards and shattering against them. One of the mages watched Biara walk through the melee, chips of razor sharp ice reflecting from her barriers and hovering in the air almost in slow motion before striking the deck. In that moment, his eyes came to meet Biara's gaze, and the understanding of what she was about to do sent a spear of fear into his heart.
There was no remorse on her face, no fear, no sorrow. As she relentlessly walked through the battle, the blood of the fallen stained her robes and weapons flashed near her, but her gaze remained locked with his. He saw her pride, her ambition, and most of all he saw her fury. He knew that there would be no surrender from her, no quarter, and that she would fight to the bloodiest of deaths before she would ever give an inch. In the gaze that passed between them, he came to know why some amongst the House Dawnsea soldiers had nicknamed her 'Biara the Butcher'.
For a moment, Biara paused, her gaze shifting from the mage to the crystal that he guarded, the one that had been used to cloak the ship in its illusions. It was there to serve the needs of the crew, empower their spells, and provide for magical sustenance if they desired such. A powerful artifact, it contained delicately prepared spells to contain all of the raw magic within it. It took Biara only a moment to focus on the weakest part of its wards, one perfectly manicured nail pointing at it as she spat out the words of her spell.
The fireblast rocked the crystal, shattering the delicate balance of power and causing it to surge throughout the structure, overloading it with all the violence of the magic contained within it.
A second later the magic was released, the explosion the last that the mages guarding it ever saw.
**************************************
In the distance, the House Felo'melorn ship that had been guarding the salvage site turned towards the battle, the concerned sailors on its decks preparing to intervene and stop the fight before it got any worse. As they made headway towards it, they peered through the thick smoke that had risen up from the burning gunship, trying to ascertain what was going on.
The explosion was almost blinding, and many of them shielded their eyes as the second gunship detonated in a catastrophic blast. In the distance they could see debris being hurled into the air, cannons, bits of wood, and even crew members flying out over the ocean before plunging into it with splashes here and there.
Although they couldn't see it, amongst those flying through the air was a flame-haired Magistrix whose robes had caught alight from the enormous blast. Her arc landed her near the burning ships, plunging her into the depths of the ocean.
*****************************************
It was cold, but the cold was soothing after nearly being on fire. Biara drifted in the water, the surface slipping away above her. She was in a daze, and her entire body ached from the concussion of the blast. Too tired and injured to swim, she watched almost passively as flickering lights of small explosions and fires illuminated the surface of the water, a firestorm consuming the remains of the three vessels above her.
And so this is how I die. It's fitting somehow, that I would die committing a massacre like my mother, but also die with valor fighting against my foes as my father would have wanted. I wonder if he will be proud of me, proud to know that I didn't give up even at the very end? It was how he raised me after all.
Above her the water's surface slipped further away, the cool darkness of the ocean's depths slowly claiming her. She knew that she had little time left, that the air in her lungs would expire and that there was no way now to take a breath or to rise back to the surface. All her power, all her magic could not change that fact.
It is strange to think that in another moment I will be gone. Time comes and goes for us all, but it always remains the constant behind it. I have but a moment of it left. At least the fires that consume my enemies above me are beautiful in their own way.
Her time was coming to an end, yet time itself would carry on. It made her think of her experiments with temporal magic; all of the various spells she had cast, had absorbed, and had even explored with others. It was odd to think of in that moment, but seemed fitting somehow when her own time was over. And yet her thoughts about time became more pressing as something strange began to happen.
It came to her in a wave of pain, the shock of it almost causing her to expel the last of her breath. It was akin to what divers described when they ascended from the depths too fast; tiny bubbles of agony flowing through her limbs. Biara knew that it was just a sensation however, even as she writhed in pain beneath the water. She had studied magic long enough to know that something was seriously wrong with her, that the magical fields from the exploding crystals above were interacting with something within her.
In the black depths of the ocean, Biara's eyes widened in horror as she came to realize it was not magic external to her, but magic that she had absorbed long ago. Magic that had been placed on a certain book that she was forbidden from reading. It was a spell that she had almost literally eaten in a sense, rising up to claim her now. A temporal lock placed on a tome so she could not get to it.
The temporal magic was within her, was within her blood. It was a little piece of time itself that could not die, that would not end with her death. Interacting with the wildly fluctuating magic above the water's surface where the crystal had detonated, it reached out to similar magic, similar spells sealed with blood.
And it found what it was seeking.
Biara brought a hand before her face, shocked to see it glowing so brightly that she could view it beneath the water's surface. She screamed as her entire body glowed, the spell colliding with the field above and whisking her away towards similar magic locked away elsewhere.
In her final moment, Biara's mind was filled with a wry thought that almost made her smile as she disappeared.
What have you done to me, Jazari?
*******************************
The surface of the water bubbled once as the space where the Magistrix had been beneath it was suddenly filled with empty vacuum from her sudden departure. It went unnoticed as three ships burned and sank beneath the waves, a testimony to the fury of the Scion of House Sunfire.
The rescue ships on the scene found no trace of Biara Sunfire amongst the wreckage.
Friday, January 17, 2014
Totally Useful- A Tera Story
The two men traveled quickly through the thick forest, stopping often to check the ground for signs of their quarry. Although they had encountered quite a few bent and broken plants and numerous signs of bleeding foes, they had yet to catch up to the group of Devas that was fleeing ahead of them, and certainly they had not found any stragglers left behind along the way.
As the men pushed further into the darkness of the Oblivion Woods, Old Ben brought a hand up, signaling a halt. He peered at the ground with a frown on his face before slipping from his mount and leaning closer to the soil to get a good look. Jonathan pulled his own mount up, watching the old soldier work with his own frown firmly in place.
"Find something?" Jonathan asked, looking around at the dense foliage that surrounded them. They were in a narrow channel that must have been carved by the flow of rainwater over the years, with rocky outcroppings rising up on either side of them, trees clinging to the rocks and making a thick canopy that cut off much of the sunlight on the forest floor.
Old Ben grunted, shaking his head before rising and spitting on the ground, "The trail just stops here, as if it never was. There's no sign of them splitting up. No bodies, no weapons. Nothing. In all my years I've never seen someone obliterate a trail so cleanly before."
Alarmed, Jonathan slipped from his own mount, patting it to reassure the beast before stepping closer and studying the forest floor himself. It was as Old Ben said; the ground went from being heavily trampled by multiple people to being completely devoid of any signs of anyone having passed over it. Feeling even more alarmed, he turned to look at Old Ben, the two coming to an understanding in a moment.
"It's a trap," Jonathan said.
Old Ben nodded and spit again, "Yep. Trap."
The two drew their weapons just as the foliage on the rocky outcroppings on either side of the path began to shake as figures rose up from their hiding places. Both rises had at least seven or eight Devas on them, most armed with wicked looking blades, axes, or pikes but one on each side appearing to be higher ranked cultists with some knowledge of spellwork. Old Ben set an arrow to his bowstring as Jonathan prepared his twin swords, the two standing back to back as they realized the odds were against them.
"Ain't gonna be a good ending, Captain," Old Ben said. "Gonna hafta take as many as we can with us."
Jonathan tightened his grip on his swords as he prepared for what would likely be his final battle, his voice tense as he responded, "Aye."
Above them the Devas had already begun their attack, their warriors fanning out and starting their way down the slope on both sides of the trail. The two leaders of the ambush both grinned beneath their hideous leather masks, one of them already beginning to chant, fire starting to burn at his fingertips. Their two victims remained in place, keeping their backs together to enhance their defenses as much as possible in the sudden ambush.
One of the two cult leaders had nearly finished his spell when the ambush met an ambush of its own. Just as the Deva had begun to shout the last words of his spell, he suddenly gasped as the steel tip of a lance punched through his back and out of his chest. He looked down at it in shock, blood pouring from the wound as he began to slide off of the long metal object. The sudden silencing of his voice made the Devas on the right side of the trail pause and look back in surprise. It also drew Jonathan's gaze up the rocky outcropping. What he saw made his eyes widen in surprise.
Bellesta stood triumphantly on the top of the hill, her lance tip bloodied and her shield in hand. She gave Jonathan a little wave which sent the long lance flapping in front of her before she turned her gaze to the Devas below her. Although heavily outnumbered, Bellesta didn't seem to consider the odds as she began a heroic and utterly idiotic charge down the hillside into the mass of enemies that outnumbered her five to one.
Jonathan closed his eyes, not wanting to see the heroic if somewhat air-headed Castanic die at the hands of their enemies, but as he soon found out, the Gods often amused themselves when given the opportunity. In her ill-fated charge, Bellesta did not anticipate the slope of the rocks, the moss covering them, or the fact that she had insisted on wearing high heels on her plate boots as many of her people had a habit of doing. As she plunged down the slope at high speeds, a miscalculated step and some slippery moss did part of the work, while plain old gravity assisted with the rest.
Instead of heroically charging to her death, Bellesta tumbled forward and then went airborne, her ungraceful, inexperienced charge turning into a majestic flight shield-first down the side of the hill. Regrettably her flight was short lived, and even more regrettably for the Devas that had been prepared to attack her, they were the reason for the abrupt end of her flight. The first three never even knew what hit them as the armored Castanic slammed into them at high speed, bowling them over and tossing them backwards into their companions.
Devas flew backwards, slamming into one another and tumbling down the slope in heaps. Atop them Bellesta continued her own fall, her shield acting almost as a sled upon their soft flesh as she bounce off of one, crushed another, and slid over more of them. The clatter of metal on stone and flesh was enough to make Jonathan open his eyes in time to see a mass of leather clad Devas and mostly naked Castanic land in a heap of writhing limbs on the ground at the edge of the slope. In one accidental blow, Bellesta had unintentionally disabled half the ambush.
Battle-hardened and experienced from years of warfare, Old Ben didn't waste a moment in seizing upon the advantage the misguided Castanic woman had given them. In a flash his bow jerked to the side and released an arrow, the deadly projectile lodging in the throat of the second spellcaster. Equally used to combat, Jonathan whirled around his companion, slamming into the oncoming wave of attackers from the other side of the path and cutting two down in an impressive display of swordsmanship.
As Old Ben peppered the attackers on that side with more arrows, Jonathan plunged into the melee, vowing to take advantage of the mess Bellesta had made of the ambush and hoping that his unlikely rescuer was alive. Behind the two men, the mass of Devas groaned and attempted to rise, one figure standing out amongst them as she rose up from amongst the pile of twisted limbs.
Bellesta had somehow managed to retain her grip on her lance and shield, and as she rose up she began to employ the weapons in her amateurish way, slamming the edge of the shield on the skulls of those who were still conscious and piercing one Deva through the arm with the lance tip as he attempted to regain his blade.
With the groaning mass of enemies mostly incapacitated, Bellesta turned her head, her black hair whipping around her as she took in the rest of the situation. Her companions were fighting against fierce enemies, but now that they had only one side of the trail to worry about they were holding their own. What they did not notice and what she immediately spotted was a small group of Devas attempting to sneak around behind them. Without even thinking much of it she grasped her lance more tightly and set her heels to the ground, bracing her self before dashing off and picking up great speed.
Jonathan had just cut down another enemy as one of the Devas beside him took an arrow to the neck and fell amongst the wounded. With those deaths the foes they had been fighting lost their nerve and began to flee, giving him a much needed respite from the battle. He turned to look at Old Ben when he again found himself surprised. Behind the two men a pack of Devas had broken from the foliage and begun to charge, bearing down on Old Ben's unprotected back. Jonathan shouted, dashing towards the attackers and causing Old Ben to whirl and then stumble backwards as he avoided the first slash from the closest of the Devas.
Just as Jonathan met up with the leading cultists and crossed blades with them, a warcry echoed out through the valley. He turned his head to see Bellesta charging in, lance extended and shield set against her arm, her body moving at full speed as she slammed into the side of the Deva attack.
Although Bellesta only managed to wound one of the cultists, the ferocity of her untrained attack sent her enemies reeling. Jonathan managed to cut down another of the Devas as he watched Bellesta move. As in the tavern, she displayed a natural talent for mayhem once she was in battle, the graceful movements of her body keeping her naked flesh clear of enemy weapons while her own shield was bashed repeatedly into skulls and her lance pierced through the bodies of her foes.
With Jonathan and Old Ben pressing the edge of their party and Bellesta making a delightful mess of any formation they might have formed, the cultists found themselves quickly being battered into submission and several of them broke and ran. To Jonathan's surprise, Bellesta was so enthused to continue the battle that she actually ran after them, her charge paused only long enough for her to reach down and snatch some manacles and chains from one of the fallen Devas which she then threw like a projectile.
Her target was struck in the legs as he ran from the field at full speed. Entangled, he tripped and fell on his own blade. Jonathan winced as he saw the bloody tip sticking from the Deva's side and he paused to survey the battlefield.
There were no more attackers, and besides for the frantic calls of the Devas who were fleeing through the woods, the sounds of battle had come to a close. Jonathan sighed with relief, cleaning his weapons before sheathing them and nodding to Old Ben. The old soldier grinned and then glanced to his right as Bellesta bounded over to them. The Castanic woman was breathing hard but had a beautiful smile on her face, as if she didn't understand how close they'd all come to being slain by the Devas.
"See?! I told you I could be totally useful!" Bellesta said happily. She planted the tip of her lance in the ground beside her and began to unfasten her shield from her arm as she nodded at the two men.
"Yes...I suppose you were," Jonathan conceded. "Even so, you were nearly killed. This is why we wanted you to stay in town."
"Well so were you!" Bellesta said, gesturing around them. "I totally helped you and you know it! Now you have to let me come with you the rest of the way."
Jonathan sighed again, trying to think of some way to dissuade the Castanic woman when he felt Old Ben's hand clamp down on his shoulder. The old soldier looked at him and grinned, "She's right, Captain. Can't argue with her now when you see the results. I was against it too, but I'll be struck blind by the Gods if I won't take a gift when I see one. She's got talent and this won't be the last fight. Let's just take her along and not waste any more time."
Bellesta squealed with delight and dashed over to hug the old man, which made him turn several rather amusing shades of red. Jonathan sighed again and then looked at the forest around them; the forest that was now covered with the bodies of their foes thanks to Bellesta's unexpected appearance.
Although he knew somehow he was going to regret it, he shook his head and gave in, his voice firm, "Fine, she can come with us. But you have to do exactly as you're told. I don't want you wandering off alone when we're near the enemy. We stick together and get this done. Got it?"
Bellesta clapped excitedly, nodding before bringing a hand up to her chest. She made an 'X' over her heart with her fingers and she replied solemnly, "Cross my heart, Captain!"
Jonathan sighed, resisting the urge to rub his temples as he turned towards his horse. It was going to be quite the adventure now, but just maybe the three of them would ensure that no other innocents were hunted down by the Devas again. With that in mind, his purpose was clear and his course set.
He just hoped he wasn't about to regret the choices he'd made over the past few days.
As the men pushed further into the darkness of the Oblivion Woods, Old Ben brought a hand up, signaling a halt. He peered at the ground with a frown on his face before slipping from his mount and leaning closer to the soil to get a good look. Jonathan pulled his own mount up, watching the old soldier work with his own frown firmly in place.
"Find something?" Jonathan asked, looking around at the dense foliage that surrounded them. They were in a narrow channel that must have been carved by the flow of rainwater over the years, with rocky outcroppings rising up on either side of them, trees clinging to the rocks and making a thick canopy that cut off much of the sunlight on the forest floor.
Old Ben grunted, shaking his head before rising and spitting on the ground, "The trail just stops here, as if it never was. There's no sign of them splitting up. No bodies, no weapons. Nothing. In all my years I've never seen someone obliterate a trail so cleanly before."
Alarmed, Jonathan slipped from his own mount, patting it to reassure the beast before stepping closer and studying the forest floor himself. It was as Old Ben said; the ground went from being heavily trampled by multiple people to being completely devoid of any signs of anyone having passed over it. Feeling even more alarmed, he turned to look at Old Ben, the two coming to an understanding in a moment.
"It's a trap," Jonathan said.
Old Ben nodded and spit again, "Yep. Trap."
The two drew their weapons just as the foliage on the rocky outcroppings on either side of the path began to shake as figures rose up from their hiding places. Both rises had at least seven or eight Devas on them, most armed with wicked looking blades, axes, or pikes but one on each side appearing to be higher ranked cultists with some knowledge of spellwork. Old Ben set an arrow to his bowstring as Jonathan prepared his twin swords, the two standing back to back as they realized the odds were against them.
"Ain't gonna be a good ending, Captain," Old Ben said. "Gonna hafta take as many as we can with us."
Jonathan tightened his grip on his swords as he prepared for what would likely be his final battle, his voice tense as he responded, "Aye."
Above them the Devas had already begun their attack, their warriors fanning out and starting their way down the slope on both sides of the trail. The two leaders of the ambush both grinned beneath their hideous leather masks, one of them already beginning to chant, fire starting to burn at his fingertips. Their two victims remained in place, keeping their backs together to enhance their defenses as much as possible in the sudden ambush.
One of the two cult leaders had nearly finished his spell when the ambush met an ambush of its own. Just as the Deva had begun to shout the last words of his spell, he suddenly gasped as the steel tip of a lance punched through his back and out of his chest. He looked down at it in shock, blood pouring from the wound as he began to slide off of the long metal object. The sudden silencing of his voice made the Devas on the right side of the trail pause and look back in surprise. It also drew Jonathan's gaze up the rocky outcropping. What he saw made his eyes widen in surprise.
Bellesta stood triumphantly on the top of the hill, her lance tip bloodied and her shield in hand. She gave Jonathan a little wave which sent the long lance flapping in front of her before she turned her gaze to the Devas below her. Although heavily outnumbered, Bellesta didn't seem to consider the odds as she began a heroic and utterly idiotic charge down the hillside into the mass of enemies that outnumbered her five to one.
Jonathan closed his eyes, not wanting to see the heroic if somewhat air-headed Castanic die at the hands of their enemies, but as he soon found out, the Gods often amused themselves when given the opportunity. In her ill-fated charge, Bellesta did not anticipate the slope of the rocks, the moss covering them, or the fact that she had insisted on wearing high heels on her plate boots as many of her people had a habit of doing. As she plunged down the slope at high speeds, a miscalculated step and some slippery moss did part of the work, while plain old gravity assisted with the rest.
Instead of heroically charging to her death, Bellesta tumbled forward and then went airborne, her ungraceful, inexperienced charge turning into a majestic flight shield-first down the side of the hill. Regrettably her flight was short lived, and even more regrettably for the Devas that had been prepared to attack her, they were the reason for the abrupt end of her flight. The first three never even knew what hit them as the armored Castanic slammed into them at high speed, bowling them over and tossing them backwards into their companions.
Devas flew backwards, slamming into one another and tumbling down the slope in heaps. Atop them Bellesta continued her own fall, her shield acting almost as a sled upon their soft flesh as she bounce off of one, crushed another, and slid over more of them. The clatter of metal on stone and flesh was enough to make Jonathan open his eyes in time to see a mass of leather clad Devas and mostly naked Castanic land in a heap of writhing limbs on the ground at the edge of the slope. In one accidental blow, Bellesta had unintentionally disabled half the ambush.
Battle-hardened and experienced from years of warfare, Old Ben didn't waste a moment in seizing upon the advantage the misguided Castanic woman had given them. In a flash his bow jerked to the side and released an arrow, the deadly projectile lodging in the throat of the second spellcaster. Equally used to combat, Jonathan whirled around his companion, slamming into the oncoming wave of attackers from the other side of the path and cutting two down in an impressive display of swordsmanship.
As Old Ben peppered the attackers on that side with more arrows, Jonathan plunged into the melee, vowing to take advantage of the mess Bellesta had made of the ambush and hoping that his unlikely rescuer was alive. Behind the two men, the mass of Devas groaned and attempted to rise, one figure standing out amongst them as she rose up from amongst the pile of twisted limbs.
Bellesta had somehow managed to retain her grip on her lance and shield, and as she rose up she began to employ the weapons in her amateurish way, slamming the edge of the shield on the skulls of those who were still conscious and piercing one Deva through the arm with the lance tip as he attempted to regain his blade.
With the groaning mass of enemies mostly incapacitated, Bellesta turned her head, her black hair whipping around her as she took in the rest of the situation. Her companions were fighting against fierce enemies, but now that they had only one side of the trail to worry about they were holding their own. What they did not notice and what she immediately spotted was a small group of Devas attempting to sneak around behind them. Without even thinking much of it she grasped her lance more tightly and set her heels to the ground, bracing her self before dashing off and picking up great speed.
Jonathan had just cut down another enemy as one of the Devas beside him took an arrow to the neck and fell amongst the wounded. With those deaths the foes they had been fighting lost their nerve and began to flee, giving him a much needed respite from the battle. He turned to look at Old Ben when he again found himself surprised. Behind the two men a pack of Devas had broken from the foliage and begun to charge, bearing down on Old Ben's unprotected back. Jonathan shouted, dashing towards the attackers and causing Old Ben to whirl and then stumble backwards as he avoided the first slash from the closest of the Devas.
Just as Jonathan met up with the leading cultists and crossed blades with them, a warcry echoed out through the valley. He turned his head to see Bellesta charging in, lance extended and shield set against her arm, her body moving at full speed as she slammed into the side of the Deva attack.
Although Bellesta only managed to wound one of the cultists, the ferocity of her untrained attack sent her enemies reeling. Jonathan managed to cut down another of the Devas as he watched Bellesta move. As in the tavern, she displayed a natural talent for mayhem once she was in battle, the graceful movements of her body keeping her naked flesh clear of enemy weapons while her own shield was bashed repeatedly into skulls and her lance pierced through the bodies of her foes.
With Jonathan and Old Ben pressing the edge of their party and Bellesta making a delightful mess of any formation they might have formed, the cultists found themselves quickly being battered into submission and several of them broke and ran. To Jonathan's surprise, Bellesta was so enthused to continue the battle that she actually ran after them, her charge paused only long enough for her to reach down and snatch some manacles and chains from one of the fallen Devas which she then threw like a projectile.
Her target was struck in the legs as he ran from the field at full speed. Entangled, he tripped and fell on his own blade. Jonathan winced as he saw the bloody tip sticking from the Deva's side and he paused to survey the battlefield.
There were no more attackers, and besides for the frantic calls of the Devas who were fleeing through the woods, the sounds of battle had come to a close. Jonathan sighed with relief, cleaning his weapons before sheathing them and nodding to Old Ben. The old soldier grinned and then glanced to his right as Bellesta bounded over to them. The Castanic woman was breathing hard but had a beautiful smile on her face, as if she didn't understand how close they'd all come to being slain by the Devas.
"See?! I told you I could be totally useful!" Bellesta said happily. She planted the tip of her lance in the ground beside her and began to unfasten her shield from her arm as she nodded at the two men.
"Yes...I suppose you were," Jonathan conceded. "Even so, you were nearly killed. This is why we wanted you to stay in town."
"Well so were you!" Bellesta said, gesturing around them. "I totally helped you and you know it! Now you have to let me come with you the rest of the way."
Jonathan sighed again, trying to think of some way to dissuade the Castanic woman when he felt Old Ben's hand clamp down on his shoulder. The old soldier looked at him and grinned, "She's right, Captain. Can't argue with her now when you see the results. I was against it too, but I'll be struck blind by the Gods if I won't take a gift when I see one. She's got talent and this won't be the last fight. Let's just take her along and not waste any more time."
Bellesta squealed with delight and dashed over to hug the old man, which made him turn several rather amusing shades of red. Jonathan sighed again and then looked at the forest around them; the forest that was now covered with the bodies of their foes thanks to Bellesta's unexpected appearance.
Although he knew somehow he was going to regret it, he shook his head and gave in, his voice firm, "Fine, she can come with us. But you have to do exactly as you're told. I don't want you wandering off alone when we're near the enemy. We stick together and get this done. Got it?"
Bellesta clapped excitedly, nodding before bringing a hand up to her chest. She made an 'X' over her heart with her fingers and she replied solemnly, "Cross my heart, Captain!"
Jonathan sighed, resisting the urge to rub his temples as he turned towards his horse. It was going to be quite the adventure now, but just maybe the three of them would ensure that no other innocents were hunted down by the Devas again. With that in mind, his purpose was clear and his course set.
He just hoped he wasn't about to regret the choices he'd made over the past few days.
Thursday, January 16, 2014
Spymistress
Biara sat in a plush chair, the back covered in a soft leather high enough to reach her mid-back. Wearing nothing more than a towel and sitting with her legs crossed, she leaned back, her arms resting on the overly-wide stuffed arms of the chair.
Behind Biara, one of her servants stood with an ivory-handled brush in hand, carefully running the brush through the Magistrix's long fire-red hair. Kneeling in front of the chair, a stylist was carefully applying the finishing touches to Biara's pedicure, and an apprentice stood beside the chair, murmuring quietly as he applied magical incantations to Biara's freshly finished fingernails, the spells designed to enhance the beautification already completed.
A short distance in front of the chair in the dressing chamber, three rather uncomfortable looking blood elves stood silently in place, attempting to look anywhere but at the Lady of the House as she went through her morning pampering. After a few moments of studying them, Biara smiled, addressing them from her place in her seat.
"Thank you all for coming on such short notice," she began, her tone welcoming. "I know that things have been a bit...out of sorts within the walls of this House as of late, and I wish to firstly assure you that I am about to set things straight."
The three elves said nothing, merely shifting in place. Three pairs of fel-green eyes met Biara's gaze, and one of the elves coughed uncomfortably at the thought of the issues that had been occurring within Sunfire Estate.
"As you all know, we have had an unfortunate change in our spy network," Biara continued, ignoring the uncomfortable silence. "While I dearly regret the loss of Braeth'el as our Spymaster, it is far past time that I took a more direct hand in these matters. Serious issues face us in these troubled times that we must focus on and deal with as swiftly as possible. The downfall of the Warchief has sent ripples throughout the Horde that will take much time to heal. In the meanwhile, law and order are in jeopardy whenever the normal order of things is interrupted, and that leaves House Sunfire vulnerable."
The three elves exchanged glances, one of them finally speaking, "Lady Sunfire...what exactly do you propose to do? We've had no orders for weeks now. Your sudden summons was a surprise frankly, as we thought our purpose here was finished."
Biara held up a hand to forestall any further questions, pausing to admire her freshly painted nails, "Not at all, in fact we have only just begun. I have decided to take on the role of the House Spymistress personally. Unfortunately, I do have many duties to attend to as a Magistrix, so I will need to rely heavily upon your expertise to accomplish our objectives."
The spy that had spoken shook his head, his objections carefully worded, "Lady Sunfire, with all due respect...do you have any experience at all with-"
Biara's warm smile turned somewhat frosty as she stared down the spy, "I have seen Braeth'el at work, and have had many occasions to interact with spies in other Houses. My sister took one as a lover once, and one of my dear friends, Mister Daser Grimm, was in the line of work. I assure you I am familiar enough with your basic functions to lead a successful program. It matters little anyway as we have no choice in the matter. If we are to prosper, we must make sure that further setbacks do not occur. It has only been through my scrying magic that we have uncovered any threats as of late, and this must change."
The elf that had been speaking nodded slowly, bowing his head, "As you wish, Lady Sunfire. We are yours to command."
Biara nodded, shifting in place so her stylist could begin working on her other foot, still admiring her nails, "Very good then. I have a number of small tasks that I wish to have completed for starters. They are in no particular order of priority, and I will leave that to you to sort out as you are the experts. Firstly, I wish someone to observe my sister at all times. As she is slowly healing, I fear she may put herself in situations that could cause...complications to our tenuous position. You must keep me informed at all times of her whereabouts and activities."
One of the elves bowed and saluted, "It will be done, my Lady."
Biara grinned, warming up to her new role, "Excellent! Secondly, we must locate our former Spymaster, Braeth'el. He has escaped my grasp but I know he is within the city; he could not have gotten far. He knows things that could pose a grave danger to this House. Find him. I do not care what condition he is in when he is returned, but be warned that we have already lost several agents and men searching for him."
"My Lady, don't you think this is a bit unwise-" one of the spies began.
Biara cut him off with a heated glare, "No, I don't think it's unwise. If he falls into the hands of our enemies it will spell disaster for this House. I have already headed off one emergency this week, and I've no need for additional issues to come up. Find him and bring him in."
"Yes, my Lady," the protesting spy said quietly.
"Good, that is what I like to hear. I know you will use your best agents to accomplish this task and put the necessary resources to it," Biara continued. "Finally, I am concerned about House Dawnsea's attempts to obtain my property. I am not entirely convinced that House Felo'melorn will be able to adequately keep the artifacts that they are recovering from my sunken vessel secure. I want to know the moment they are pulled from the sea, and where they are being stored. If the situation degrades, we can...secure them directly as need be."
"As you command, Lady Sunfire," the last of the spies said. "We will try to infiltrate House Felo'melorn as needed to keep an eye on this matter."
"Good, good!" Biara said cheerfully. "That is all for now then. Once you've brought back more information we can examine it and see what else needs to be done. You are dismissed."
The three elves bowed deeply before turning to leave. Biara sighed, leaning back and enjoying the pampering she was receiving. She knew that it was going to be a long day after having a rather busy evening assaulting her mother's holdings, and she had much work to do with the Magistrate. Such were the stresses on her that she was now forced to hold audiences in a bath towel when she should be relaxing.
On the plus side, it seemed that being a Spymistress was exceptionally easy! She'd already set her agents to work and knew that in due time her network would bear fruit. As she enjoyed the feeling of the brush running through her hair, Biara sighed and closed her eyes, a grin on her face.
She had no idea why people like Daser always made the business seem so difficult and dangerous. You simply ordered your agents out and then studied what they brought back. How hard could that be? There was little to fear in such games; it wasn't like addressing the Magistrate or engaging in a spellduel after all!
With that settled in her mind, Biara began to plan out the rest of her day. It would take much effort to stay on top of events and she had no intention of letting House Sunfire go the way of House Dayfire.
Behind Biara, one of her servants stood with an ivory-handled brush in hand, carefully running the brush through the Magistrix's long fire-red hair. Kneeling in front of the chair, a stylist was carefully applying the finishing touches to Biara's pedicure, and an apprentice stood beside the chair, murmuring quietly as he applied magical incantations to Biara's freshly finished fingernails, the spells designed to enhance the beautification already completed.
A short distance in front of the chair in the dressing chamber, three rather uncomfortable looking blood elves stood silently in place, attempting to look anywhere but at the Lady of the House as she went through her morning pampering. After a few moments of studying them, Biara smiled, addressing them from her place in her seat.
"Thank you all for coming on such short notice," she began, her tone welcoming. "I know that things have been a bit...out of sorts within the walls of this House as of late, and I wish to firstly assure you that I am about to set things straight."
The three elves said nothing, merely shifting in place. Three pairs of fel-green eyes met Biara's gaze, and one of the elves coughed uncomfortably at the thought of the issues that had been occurring within Sunfire Estate.
"As you all know, we have had an unfortunate change in our spy network," Biara continued, ignoring the uncomfortable silence. "While I dearly regret the loss of Braeth'el as our Spymaster, it is far past time that I took a more direct hand in these matters. Serious issues face us in these troubled times that we must focus on and deal with as swiftly as possible. The downfall of the Warchief has sent ripples throughout the Horde that will take much time to heal. In the meanwhile, law and order are in jeopardy whenever the normal order of things is interrupted, and that leaves House Sunfire vulnerable."
The three elves exchanged glances, one of them finally speaking, "Lady Sunfire...what exactly do you propose to do? We've had no orders for weeks now. Your sudden summons was a surprise frankly, as we thought our purpose here was finished."
Biara held up a hand to forestall any further questions, pausing to admire her freshly painted nails, "Not at all, in fact we have only just begun. I have decided to take on the role of the House Spymistress personally. Unfortunately, I do have many duties to attend to as a Magistrix, so I will need to rely heavily upon your expertise to accomplish our objectives."
The spy that had spoken shook his head, his objections carefully worded, "Lady Sunfire, with all due respect...do you have any experience at all with-"
Biara's warm smile turned somewhat frosty as she stared down the spy, "I have seen Braeth'el at work, and have had many occasions to interact with spies in other Houses. My sister took one as a lover once, and one of my dear friends, Mister Daser Grimm, was in the line of work. I assure you I am familiar enough with your basic functions to lead a successful program. It matters little anyway as we have no choice in the matter. If we are to prosper, we must make sure that further setbacks do not occur. It has only been through my scrying magic that we have uncovered any threats as of late, and this must change."
The elf that had been speaking nodded slowly, bowing his head, "As you wish, Lady Sunfire. We are yours to command."
Biara nodded, shifting in place so her stylist could begin working on her other foot, still admiring her nails, "Very good then. I have a number of small tasks that I wish to have completed for starters. They are in no particular order of priority, and I will leave that to you to sort out as you are the experts. Firstly, I wish someone to observe my sister at all times. As she is slowly healing, I fear she may put herself in situations that could cause...complications to our tenuous position. You must keep me informed at all times of her whereabouts and activities."
One of the elves bowed and saluted, "It will be done, my Lady."
Biara grinned, warming up to her new role, "Excellent! Secondly, we must locate our former Spymaster, Braeth'el. He has escaped my grasp but I know he is within the city; he could not have gotten far. He knows things that could pose a grave danger to this House. Find him. I do not care what condition he is in when he is returned, but be warned that we have already lost several agents and men searching for him."
"My Lady, don't you think this is a bit unwise-" one of the spies began.
Biara cut him off with a heated glare, "No, I don't think it's unwise. If he falls into the hands of our enemies it will spell disaster for this House. I have already headed off one emergency this week, and I've no need for additional issues to come up. Find him and bring him in."
"Yes, my Lady," the protesting spy said quietly.
"Good, that is what I like to hear. I know you will use your best agents to accomplish this task and put the necessary resources to it," Biara continued. "Finally, I am concerned about House Dawnsea's attempts to obtain my property. I am not entirely convinced that House Felo'melorn will be able to adequately keep the artifacts that they are recovering from my sunken vessel secure. I want to know the moment they are pulled from the sea, and where they are being stored. If the situation degrades, we can...secure them directly as need be."
"As you command, Lady Sunfire," the last of the spies said. "We will try to infiltrate House Felo'melorn as needed to keep an eye on this matter."
"Good, good!" Biara said cheerfully. "That is all for now then. Once you've brought back more information we can examine it and see what else needs to be done. You are dismissed."
The three elves bowed deeply before turning to leave. Biara sighed, leaning back and enjoying the pampering she was receiving. She knew that it was going to be a long day after having a rather busy evening assaulting her mother's holdings, and she had much work to do with the Magistrate. Such were the stresses on her that she was now forced to hold audiences in a bath towel when she should be relaxing.
On the plus side, it seemed that being a Spymistress was exceptionally easy! She'd already set her agents to work and knew that in due time her network would bear fruit. As she enjoyed the feeling of the brush running through her hair, Biara sighed and closed her eyes, a grin on her face.
She had no idea why people like Daser always made the business seem so difficult and dangerous. You simply ordered your agents out and then studied what they brought back. How hard could that be? There was little to fear in such games; it wasn't like addressing the Magistrate or engaging in a spellduel after all!
With that settled in her mind, Biara began to plan out the rest of her day. It would take much effort to stay on top of events and she had no intention of letting House Sunfire go the way of House Dayfire.
Wednesday, January 15, 2014
Blade of Light
*An isle off the coast of Quel'Thalas owned by House Dawnsea*
Seluna paced across the flat marble floor, her peculiar green-blue eyes studying the intricate magical wards inscribed in the stone carefully. The circular chamber featured a number of the carvings, with the center of the chamber having the greatest collection of them. From the outer edges of the room's curved walls arcane designs extended to merge with the powerful runes in the middle.
To the priestess's eyes, the room was awash with the foul powers of the necromancy that the runes and spellwork had conjured. Trapped spirits writhed within their magical prisons, their life force feeding the spells and empowering the runes that ran to the central circular ward. The island was one of her workshops, and the room within it was key to the spells that she would soon cast.
"Lady Dawnsea, the eastern wards have been completed," a voice said behind Seluna. The elf turned to see one of her priestesses standing behind her, the Sin'dorei's head bowed in respect to the High Priestess of House Dawnsea.
"Excellent. See to it that the rest of the matrix is stabilized. We will be putting the spells to use as soon as the ships return from sea with the final piece of the puzzle," Seluna purred. It was difficult to hide the triumph in her voice as she thought about what would soon come to pass.
After all this time, I finally have the upper hand, and soon I will be truly immortal. Once the fragment of the phylactery is in my possession, I will merge the two halves and recreate the artifact. Finally, I will be beyond the bindings that restrain my power and all of those who have stood against me will come to learn the suffering that I have felt after all of these years of watching their depressing failure of a nation.
Seluna allowed a smile to cross her lips as she gazed once more at the glowing runes on the floor. It had taken years to come to this point and countless deaths. The cost in blood and coin and magic meant little to her, as she herself was long beyond such things. The fact that the final casting of the spell and the refueling of the phylactery would cost the lives of over one hundred of her priestesses also meant little in the grand scheme of things. All that mattered was the power now, and the vengeance it would allow her to bring to her enemies.
As she continued to plot in her mind, something tickled at her senses. Whether it was an odd current of air or perhaps a magical fluctuation, it instantly snapped her attention back to the arcane matrix of wards on the floor. One of her eyebrows shot up as she saw a ward begin to unbind, the magical energy released into the air in a whiplash of power. A priestess standing nearby shuddered as the magical discharge nearly burned her mind out from the raw power unleashed.
"What is going on?! Quickly, call in the others!" Seluna shouted, glaring across the runed floor. Another of the wards began to curl up, the magic forming a tendril of power in the air that lashed out like a whip, striking a marble wall and leaving a burned gash there. Even as a number of dark robed priestesses ran into the room, yet another of the wards began to fail.
"Something is wrong with the spellwork, Lady Dawnsea!" one of the priestesses yelled as another of the runes began to fail. "The bindings are correct but another force is working against our protective wards! They're not going to hold!"
Seluna's eyes blazed a foul scourge blue as she glared around the room, watching her carefully prepared work slowly begin to unravel. She focused her magics, shadows curling from her body as she began to hunt around the chamber, searching for the source of the interruption. A second later her eyes widened as she realized what was going on.
There were other living creatures in the room with her. She could almost smell the disgusting scent of their living essences, obscured behind a veil of arcane magic.
"We're under attack! Everyone prepare for battle!" Seluna shouted, pointing at the nearest of the strange sources of energy and causing dark shadows to whip out. The magic struck what seemed to be thin air before a scream echoed through the room and a robed Sin'dorei fell to the floor with mortal wounds, the invisibility spell that had been surrounding the elf having failed when he was struck.
In that moment, pandemonium broke out as dozens of robed spellcasters materialized throughout the room. What had started as an emergency to repair failing wards became an outright battle as the spellcasters began flinging bolts of fire at the priestesses, who in turn flailed at them with magical shadows.
Explosions rocked the chamber and Seluna could only gasp as the situation spun out of control. She pointed again and felled another of the attackers, readying her more powerful spells so she could slay the interlopers. As she brought her arms up to begin her next spell, she felt a powerful blow slam into her back. In shock, she looked down to see a golden sword protruding from her chest.
"Hello, mother," Biara whispered into Seluna's ear. "It's been so very long since I've stopped in to visit. Regrettably, I know this won't kill you, but my sister's sword is quite blessed. I'm sure you'll enjoy the experience very much."
Seluna felt blood gushing from the wound and from her mouth as she tried to respond, a gasping cough all that she could force out as the burning sensation of contact with the Light began to rage through her chest. She slid to her knees, futilely attempting to reach behind her to pull the sword free and end the torment. She spit globs of blood on the floor, managing to get a single word out, "Bitch!"
Biara Sunfire smiled down at her wounded mother, the look in her eyes holding nothing but malice. She stepped around the struggling High Priestess, looking around the room and talking over her shoulder, "You really shouldn't meddle with necromancy, mother. You know that it never ends well. You didn't really think I was going to allow you to take what was mine, did you? You didn't really think I was going to let you put it back together, right?"
Seluna tried to curse or say anything, but all she managed to do was to cough up more blood as the raging pain in her chest grew worse. Her magic could heal the wounds easily, but not while the blade remained in place. Biara smirked at her, knowing that all too well.
"Well, it's been nice chatting with you mother, but you look very busy right now," Biara said with a grin. "I'll let you get back to whatever it is you're doing here. I'll just see myself out, don't bother to get up."
Biara walked towards the center of the chamber, the magical battle raging all around her not even a concern as her apprentices worked to fight off Seluna's priestesses. Wards flared around her as errant spells came near her, but she never faltered in her movements, only stopping when the tips of her shoes had almost contacted the wards in the very center of the room. Arcane magic blazed at her fingertips and the wards on her right cheek glittered as she began to chant, her magic focused on the pattern in the center of the room.
After a moment, Biara stopped chanting, pointing at the floor and sending a wave of magic into the runes there. The entire patterned changed color, the wards turning an angry red as the spell began to take effect. Biara snapped her fingers, a portal opening beside her as she turned to look back at Seluna.
In that moment, years of hate passed between them, but another message was transmitted as well. In Biara's eyes Seluna could see quite clearly that the Magistrix had had enough, and that their war would become all the more serious now.
With an almost impish grin and a wink, Biara stepped through the portal, Seluna's last sight of her the flare of her skirts around one heel as she disappeared into the magic. The House Sunfire apprentices that were left standing also fell back, pouring into the portal, the last of the survivors closing it as he left.
In the silence that followed, only the raging red runes in the center of the room remained as a reminder of the battle, and Seluna's eyes widened as she realized what was about to happen. As her priestesses stared in slack-jawed amazement at the unraveling spell, Seluna finally managed to reach back and grasp the hilt of the sword in her back, pulling it free with a sigh of relief. A second later she shouted a word of power, her body dissolving into a cloud of shadows and sinking through the cracks in the floor, escaping the room.
A second later the runes in the center of the chamber detonated, tearing the entire structure to pieces. The light of the blast was visible even to ships far out to sea, the death throes of Seluna's failed magics burning her laboratory and all of her assistants to ash in a second.
In that one evening, Seluna Dawnsea came to know that her daughter was far from defeated, and was more than willing to meet fire with fire once more.
Seluna paced across the flat marble floor, her peculiar green-blue eyes studying the intricate magical wards inscribed in the stone carefully. The circular chamber featured a number of the carvings, with the center of the chamber having the greatest collection of them. From the outer edges of the room's curved walls arcane designs extended to merge with the powerful runes in the middle.
To the priestess's eyes, the room was awash with the foul powers of the necromancy that the runes and spellwork had conjured. Trapped spirits writhed within their magical prisons, their life force feeding the spells and empowering the runes that ran to the central circular ward. The island was one of her workshops, and the room within it was key to the spells that she would soon cast.
"Lady Dawnsea, the eastern wards have been completed," a voice said behind Seluna. The elf turned to see one of her priestesses standing behind her, the Sin'dorei's head bowed in respect to the High Priestess of House Dawnsea.
"Excellent. See to it that the rest of the matrix is stabilized. We will be putting the spells to use as soon as the ships return from sea with the final piece of the puzzle," Seluna purred. It was difficult to hide the triumph in her voice as she thought about what would soon come to pass.
After all this time, I finally have the upper hand, and soon I will be truly immortal. Once the fragment of the phylactery is in my possession, I will merge the two halves and recreate the artifact. Finally, I will be beyond the bindings that restrain my power and all of those who have stood against me will come to learn the suffering that I have felt after all of these years of watching their depressing failure of a nation.
Seluna allowed a smile to cross her lips as she gazed once more at the glowing runes on the floor. It had taken years to come to this point and countless deaths. The cost in blood and coin and magic meant little to her, as she herself was long beyond such things. The fact that the final casting of the spell and the refueling of the phylactery would cost the lives of over one hundred of her priestesses also meant little in the grand scheme of things. All that mattered was the power now, and the vengeance it would allow her to bring to her enemies.
As she continued to plot in her mind, something tickled at her senses. Whether it was an odd current of air or perhaps a magical fluctuation, it instantly snapped her attention back to the arcane matrix of wards on the floor. One of her eyebrows shot up as she saw a ward begin to unbind, the magical energy released into the air in a whiplash of power. A priestess standing nearby shuddered as the magical discharge nearly burned her mind out from the raw power unleashed.
"What is going on?! Quickly, call in the others!" Seluna shouted, glaring across the runed floor. Another of the wards began to curl up, the magic forming a tendril of power in the air that lashed out like a whip, striking a marble wall and leaving a burned gash there. Even as a number of dark robed priestesses ran into the room, yet another of the wards began to fail.
"Something is wrong with the spellwork, Lady Dawnsea!" one of the priestesses yelled as another of the runes began to fail. "The bindings are correct but another force is working against our protective wards! They're not going to hold!"
Seluna's eyes blazed a foul scourge blue as she glared around the room, watching her carefully prepared work slowly begin to unravel. She focused her magics, shadows curling from her body as she began to hunt around the chamber, searching for the source of the interruption. A second later her eyes widened as she realized what was going on.
There were other living creatures in the room with her. She could almost smell the disgusting scent of their living essences, obscured behind a veil of arcane magic.
"We're under attack! Everyone prepare for battle!" Seluna shouted, pointing at the nearest of the strange sources of energy and causing dark shadows to whip out. The magic struck what seemed to be thin air before a scream echoed through the room and a robed Sin'dorei fell to the floor with mortal wounds, the invisibility spell that had been surrounding the elf having failed when he was struck.
In that moment, pandemonium broke out as dozens of robed spellcasters materialized throughout the room. What had started as an emergency to repair failing wards became an outright battle as the spellcasters began flinging bolts of fire at the priestesses, who in turn flailed at them with magical shadows.
Explosions rocked the chamber and Seluna could only gasp as the situation spun out of control. She pointed again and felled another of the attackers, readying her more powerful spells so she could slay the interlopers. As she brought her arms up to begin her next spell, she felt a powerful blow slam into her back. In shock, she looked down to see a golden sword protruding from her chest.
"Hello, mother," Biara whispered into Seluna's ear. "It's been so very long since I've stopped in to visit. Regrettably, I know this won't kill you, but my sister's sword is quite blessed. I'm sure you'll enjoy the experience very much."
Seluna felt blood gushing from the wound and from her mouth as she tried to respond, a gasping cough all that she could force out as the burning sensation of contact with the Light began to rage through her chest. She slid to her knees, futilely attempting to reach behind her to pull the sword free and end the torment. She spit globs of blood on the floor, managing to get a single word out, "Bitch!"
Biara Sunfire smiled down at her wounded mother, the look in her eyes holding nothing but malice. She stepped around the struggling High Priestess, looking around the room and talking over her shoulder, "You really shouldn't meddle with necromancy, mother. You know that it never ends well. You didn't really think I was going to allow you to take what was mine, did you? You didn't really think I was going to let you put it back together, right?"
Seluna tried to curse or say anything, but all she managed to do was to cough up more blood as the raging pain in her chest grew worse. Her magic could heal the wounds easily, but not while the blade remained in place. Biara smirked at her, knowing that all too well.
"Well, it's been nice chatting with you mother, but you look very busy right now," Biara said with a grin. "I'll let you get back to whatever it is you're doing here. I'll just see myself out, don't bother to get up."
Biara walked towards the center of the chamber, the magical battle raging all around her not even a concern as her apprentices worked to fight off Seluna's priestesses. Wards flared around her as errant spells came near her, but she never faltered in her movements, only stopping when the tips of her shoes had almost contacted the wards in the very center of the room. Arcane magic blazed at her fingertips and the wards on her right cheek glittered as she began to chant, her magic focused on the pattern in the center of the room.
After a moment, Biara stopped chanting, pointing at the floor and sending a wave of magic into the runes there. The entire patterned changed color, the wards turning an angry red as the spell began to take effect. Biara snapped her fingers, a portal opening beside her as she turned to look back at Seluna.
In that moment, years of hate passed between them, but another message was transmitted as well. In Biara's eyes Seluna could see quite clearly that the Magistrix had had enough, and that their war would become all the more serious now.
With an almost impish grin and a wink, Biara stepped through the portal, Seluna's last sight of her the flare of her skirts around one heel as she disappeared into the magic. The House Sunfire apprentices that were left standing also fell back, pouring into the portal, the last of the survivors closing it as he left.
In the silence that followed, only the raging red runes in the center of the room remained as a reminder of the battle, and Seluna's eyes widened as she realized what was about to happen. As her priestesses stared in slack-jawed amazement at the unraveling spell, Seluna finally managed to reach back and grasp the hilt of the sword in her back, pulling it free with a sigh of relief. A second later she shouted a word of power, her body dissolving into a cloud of shadows and sinking through the cracks in the floor, escaping the room.
A second later the runes in the center of the chamber detonated, tearing the entire structure to pieces. The light of the blast was visible even to ships far out to sea, the death throes of Seluna's failed magics burning her laboratory and all of her assistants to ash in a second.
In that one evening, Seluna Dawnsea came to know that her daughter was far from defeated, and was more than willing to meet fire with fire once more.
Friday, January 10, 2014
Delightful Company- A Tera Story
Jonathan grunted as he pulled the last strap on the saddle, tightening it as much as possible to keep the supplies from coming free during the trip. As he turned, Old Ben was waiting, a quiver of arrows strapped to his back and a long bow in his hand. The old timer had a slew of daggers and knives strapped here and there about his person, and combined with his grizzled appearance he looked ready to take on anything. It was a good thing too, as they just might have to.
"You ready to head out?" Jonathan asked. Behind Old Ben, the fire-gutted remains of the tavern that the Devas had attacked was a stark reminder of how serious their task was.
"Ready as I'll ever be," the old man responded with a grin. "It'll be like old times in a way; been a long while since I've set out on a scouting mission."
Jonathan nodded grimly, looking over the ruins and then sighing, "Not exactly the way I wanted to start out my career in this area, but we don't get to choose our fate I guess. The Gods play the worst sorts of jokes on us at times. If you're all set we should probably get started. They had wounded with them but they know the area and can travel fast so that won't slow them too much."
The old man nodded and Jonathan turned towards his horse. Just as he was about to mount up, he spied something out of the corner of his eye. He whirled around, holding a hand to his mouth to signal silence to Old Ben. As he stared hard at a section of wooden wall that had once been connected to the tavern, his keen eyesight spotted a pair of horns sticking up over the edge of the woodwork as if a beast had hidden itself there but done a poor job of it. He pointed, and in a second Old Ben had his bow drawn and arrow at hand.
"Whoever you are, come out where we can see you!" Jonathan yelled. "And no tricks or you'll be full of arrows before you get to explain yourself!"
A noise that sounded halfway between a startled gasp and some sort of animal squeaking came from behind the fence and the pair of horns slowly rose up and gave way to a head of black hair and then a pair of red eyes as they peered over the edge of the woodwork. The eyes widened as their owner took in the sight of Old Ben's bow aimed in their direction and two hands quickly shot up over the Castanic's head.
"Oh Gods, don't shoot me! I-I just wanted to h-help!" came the nervous reply. The voice was instantly familiar to Jonathan, and he relaxed as he heard it.
"Oh, it's you. The barmaid. What was it again...Bellesta?" he said. Beside him Old Ben grunted and lowered his weapon as he realized that they were not about to be attacked.
The Castanic woman smiled and nodded, rising up from her hiding place and walking around the edge of the broken wood to approach them. As she cleared the rubble, Jonathan's eyes widened when he got a good look at her. Gone were the tight pants and top she'd been wearing when she was tending to the bar. In their place was virtually nothing, the Castanic woman having stripped herself down to her smallclothes and a few bits of mismatched chain and plate pieces that she'd haphazardly strapped to her legs and arms. When he was able to tear his gaze away from this sight, he noted that she'd acquired a rusty old lance and battered looking shield that she'd strapped to her back.
"W-what...by the Gods, why are you hiding in the rubble dressed like that?" Jonathan finally managed to sputter.
Beside him, Old Ben grinned and slapped a hand on his shoulder, "You ain't never seen a Castanic prepared for war before? They don't go much in the way of clothes. Slows 'em down so they say. She's fixin' to go on a hunt of her own."
"W-war..?" Jonathan said, still somewhat shocked by the barmaid's sudden appearance. "Y-you're planning to go hunt the Devas down?"
By this point Bellesta had joined the two men, and she nodded happily, smiling at them both in turn, "You bet! Your speech totally inspired me! And besides, we can't let them go around doing what they did. That'd be wrong, and they are wrong even if they're too Gods-blinded to see it!"
Jonathan managed to clamp his jaw closed long enough to evaluate what she'd said, looking at her critically, "You do understand that this is a potentially deadly situation, right? We're going to scout out the base of operations for a group of murderous cultists. We'll likely be in battle, which as far as I saw in the tavern the other night you have absolutely no experience with whatsoever."
Bellesta nodded again, the smile still on her face, "Oh yes, I know it's super serious! Don't worry, I will do my best to learn from you! Besides, it can't be that hard right? Like everyone who passed through the tavern was a soldier. If it was so hard no one would want to do it!"
Jonathan exchanged a glance with Old Ben, the quick look conveying a range of unspoken thoughts. He turned to look at Bellesta, picking his next words carefully so as not to upset her, "Listen, Bellesta. We appreciate your enthusiasm here, but when I gave that speech I sort of meant that you should go and seek out training with the Federation's armies. Not...just rush off into the woods without any preparation. I don't want your inexperience to get you killed."
Bellesta immediately began to look crestfallen, a pout forming on her pink lips. She planted her hands on her bare hips, a fire dancing in her eyes, "What are you trying to say? I'm not good enough to go? I totally know more about those cultists than you do, that's for sure! You have to let me go!"
Jonathan shook his head, his expression set, "I'm sorry Bellesta, but it's too dangerous. You should go to Lumbertown instead and report what happened here and seek out some training. You'll do the most good for the Federation that way."
If he'd expected the former barmaid to take this suggestion lightly, Jonathan would find himself very surprised as the Castanic woman began to huff and stomp around in front of the two men, waving her hands in the air, "That is totally not fair! They tried to kill me too you know! A-and besides, like I said I know about these people! Trust me! You have to let me come!"
Jonathan opened his mouth to reply, searching for the right words to soothe her when Old Ben stepped forward, his voice gruff, "Hush girl. He said no, and that's that. Your bellyaching is just going to delay us more. Hurry off now to town, and let us get to our work eh?"
Bellesta instantly stopped her little temper tantrum, as if she realized it was futile to continue that tact. Instead, she stepped closer to Jonathan, running a hand up his arm as she peered into his eyes, her voice husky now, "Pleeeeeease won't you let me come with you? I promise I'll be super good and do anything you tell me to do so I won't get hurt. I always do what I'm told..."
Jonathan found it suddenly quite difficult to concentrate with the mostly naked woman leaning towards him, her red eyes peering into his. After swallowing hard and taking a moment to steady himself, he shook his head and somehow managed to keep his voice firm, "No, I'm afraid not. Although I'd love to have your company along on the trip, I would feel personally responsible if you got hurt. Please, go back to Lumbertown and wait for us there. I promise that once we've located the camp and I come back, we can look into getting you some proper training so you don't have to stay behind next time, okay?"
Bellesta sighed, looking disappointed but thankfully not throwing another tantrum. She slowly peeled herself away from Jonathan's side, and to his great relief nodded, "A-alright then, if that is the way you really feel. But you'd better come back. I want to do something to help! Those cultists...they're bad. Really bad. I know all about it. They aren't going to stop, and something has to be done!"
Jonathan nodded, feeling relieved as he turned and mounted his horse. Behind him Old Ben turned and got his own horse, mounting up beside him. Jonathan looked down at the Castanic woman, seeing a bit of defiance in her eyes still. He spoke softly, and he hoped reassuringly, "Don't worry, we won't be gone long. We're just going to scout out their camp and then we'll be back. They left a trail we can easily follow. Go back to town, and we'll see you there soon."
With that he snapped the reins and headed towards the edge of the looming forest, Old Ben following along behind him, leaving the Castanic woman standing amongst the debris of her former life. Behind Jonathan, Old Ben grinned and muttered to him, keeping his voice low, "Not bad there, Captain. Not too many men would have said no to that."
Jonathan just stared straight ahead, grimly keeping his mind focused on the task at hand, his response clipped and short, "I did what I had to do. She'd have been a liability and we've work to do."
****************************
In the ruins behind them, Bellesta watched them head off into the forest, kicking idly at some of the charred debris on the ground around her, "It's not fair. I deserve a chance to at least try. And besides, they're not doing anything hard, following that trail...."
Bellesta's voice trailed off as she thought about what she was saying, her red eyes peering into the edges of the forest around her and her mind churning. Something about what Jonathan had said suddenly didn't sit right with her, but she couldn't put her finger on it at first.
After a moment of idle thought, her eyes widened and she murmured to herself, "There is no way they would have left a trail, even with wounded. They're way too picky about who they let near their encampments. Why would there be a trail when they could just leave the wounded behind and not risk their holdout? They wouldn't even let any of us who weren't with them near their secret places."
Bellesta concentrated hard, trying to puzzle it out and having great difficulty with the question. She was not very knowledgeable about strategy and tactics, and the actions of her enemies puzzled her to no end. After a few moments of essentially staring absentmindedly into the forest, her eyes widened again and she snapped her fingers.
"That's it! It's one of those...what do you call thems...where you hide and wait for people so you can hurt them! A bush!" Bellesta exclaimed. She frowned and shook her head, "No, that's not it, but whatever, they're going to get hurt if I don't help them!"
With that she burst into action, turning and running around behind the ruins of the tavern before leading out a horse that she purchased from one of the tavern patrons who had lost his cart in the fire and no longer needed the creature. Although it was old and not a warhorse, it would do for fast travel and right now that is what Bellesta needed the most. With a shout she jumped up into the saddle, snapping the reins and causing the old beast to burst into a rather slow trot.
"Don't worry guys, I'm coming to help!" Bellesta said to no one in particular, a smile plastered to her face as she set out on her first real adventure.
"You ready to head out?" Jonathan asked. Behind Old Ben, the fire-gutted remains of the tavern that the Devas had attacked was a stark reminder of how serious their task was.
"Ready as I'll ever be," the old man responded with a grin. "It'll be like old times in a way; been a long while since I've set out on a scouting mission."
Jonathan nodded grimly, looking over the ruins and then sighing, "Not exactly the way I wanted to start out my career in this area, but we don't get to choose our fate I guess. The Gods play the worst sorts of jokes on us at times. If you're all set we should probably get started. They had wounded with them but they know the area and can travel fast so that won't slow them too much."
The old man nodded and Jonathan turned towards his horse. Just as he was about to mount up, he spied something out of the corner of his eye. He whirled around, holding a hand to his mouth to signal silence to Old Ben. As he stared hard at a section of wooden wall that had once been connected to the tavern, his keen eyesight spotted a pair of horns sticking up over the edge of the woodwork as if a beast had hidden itself there but done a poor job of it. He pointed, and in a second Old Ben had his bow drawn and arrow at hand.
"Whoever you are, come out where we can see you!" Jonathan yelled. "And no tricks or you'll be full of arrows before you get to explain yourself!"
A noise that sounded halfway between a startled gasp and some sort of animal squeaking came from behind the fence and the pair of horns slowly rose up and gave way to a head of black hair and then a pair of red eyes as they peered over the edge of the woodwork. The eyes widened as their owner took in the sight of Old Ben's bow aimed in their direction and two hands quickly shot up over the Castanic's head.
"Oh Gods, don't shoot me! I-I just wanted to h-help!" came the nervous reply. The voice was instantly familiar to Jonathan, and he relaxed as he heard it.
"Oh, it's you. The barmaid. What was it again...Bellesta?" he said. Beside him Old Ben grunted and lowered his weapon as he realized that they were not about to be attacked.
The Castanic woman smiled and nodded, rising up from her hiding place and walking around the edge of the broken wood to approach them. As she cleared the rubble, Jonathan's eyes widened when he got a good look at her. Gone were the tight pants and top she'd been wearing when she was tending to the bar. In their place was virtually nothing, the Castanic woman having stripped herself down to her smallclothes and a few bits of mismatched chain and plate pieces that she'd haphazardly strapped to her legs and arms. When he was able to tear his gaze away from this sight, he noted that she'd acquired a rusty old lance and battered looking shield that she'd strapped to her back.
"W-what...by the Gods, why are you hiding in the rubble dressed like that?" Jonathan finally managed to sputter.
Beside him, Old Ben grinned and slapped a hand on his shoulder, "You ain't never seen a Castanic prepared for war before? They don't go much in the way of clothes. Slows 'em down so they say. She's fixin' to go on a hunt of her own."
"W-war..?" Jonathan said, still somewhat shocked by the barmaid's sudden appearance. "Y-you're planning to go hunt the Devas down?"
By this point Bellesta had joined the two men, and she nodded happily, smiling at them both in turn, "You bet! Your speech totally inspired me! And besides, we can't let them go around doing what they did. That'd be wrong, and they are wrong even if they're too Gods-blinded to see it!"
Jonathan managed to clamp his jaw closed long enough to evaluate what she'd said, looking at her critically, "You do understand that this is a potentially deadly situation, right? We're going to scout out the base of operations for a group of murderous cultists. We'll likely be in battle, which as far as I saw in the tavern the other night you have absolutely no experience with whatsoever."
Bellesta nodded again, the smile still on her face, "Oh yes, I know it's super serious! Don't worry, I will do my best to learn from you! Besides, it can't be that hard right? Like everyone who passed through the tavern was a soldier. If it was so hard no one would want to do it!"
Jonathan exchanged a glance with Old Ben, the quick look conveying a range of unspoken thoughts. He turned to look at Bellesta, picking his next words carefully so as not to upset her, "Listen, Bellesta. We appreciate your enthusiasm here, but when I gave that speech I sort of meant that you should go and seek out training with the Federation's armies. Not...just rush off into the woods without any preparation. I don't want your inexperience to get you killed."
Bellesta immediately began to look crestfallen, a pout forming on her pink lips. She planted her hands on her bare hips, a fire dancing in her eyes, "What are you trying to say? I'm not good enough to go? I totally know more about those cultists than you do, that's for sure! You have to let me go!"
Jonathan shook his head, his expression set, "I'm sorry Bellesta, but it's too dangerous. You should go to Lumbertown instead and report what happened here and seek out some training. You'll do the most good for the Federation that way."
If he'd expected the former barmaid to take this suggestion lightly, Jonathan would find himself very surprised as the Castanic woman began to huff and stomp around in front of the two men, waving her hands in the air, "That is totally not fair! They tried to kill me too you know! A-and besides, like I said I know about these people! Trust me! You have to let me come!"
Jonathan opened his mouth to reply, searching for the right words to soothe her when Old Ben stepped forward, his voice gruff, "Hush girl. He said no, and that's that. Your bellyaching is just going to delay us more. Hurry off now to town, and let us get to our work eh?"
Bellesta instantly stopped her little temper tantrum, as if she realized it was futile to continue that tact. Instead, she stepped closer to Jonathan, running a hand up his arm as she peered into his eyes, her voice husky now, "Pleeeeeease won't you let me come with you? I promise I'll be super good and do anything you tell me to do so I won't get hurt. I always do what I'm told..."
Jonathan found it suddenly quite difficult to concentrate with the mostly naked woman leaning towards him, her red eyes peering into his. After swallowing hard and taking a moment to steady himself, he shook his head and somehow managed to keep his voice firm, "No, I'm afraid not. Although I'd love to have your company along on the trip, I would feel personally responsible if you got hurt. Please, go back to Lumbertown and wait for us there. I promise that once we've located the camp and I come back, we can look into getting you some proper training so you don't have to stay behind next time, okay?"
Bellesta sighed, looking disappointed but thankfully not throwing another tantrum. She slowly peeled herself away from Jonathan's side, and to his great relief nodded, "A-alright then, if that is the way you really feel. But you'd better come back. I want to do something to help! Those cultists...they're bad. Really bad. I know all about it. They aren't going to stop, and something has to be done!"
Jonathan nodded, feeling relieved as he turned and mounted his horse. Behind him Old Ben turned and got his own horse, mounting up beside him. Jonathan looked down at the Castanic woman, seeing a bit of defiance in her eyes still. He spoke softly, and he hoped reassuringly, "Don't worry, we won't be gone long. We're just going to scout out their camp and then we'll be back. They left a trail we can easily follow. Go back to town, and we'll see you there soon."
With that he snapped the reins and headed towards the edge of the looming forest, Old Ben following along behind him, leaving the Castanic woman standing amongst the debris of her former life. Behind Jonathan, Old Ben grinned and muttered to him, keeping his voice low, "Not bad there, Captain. Not too many men would have said no to that."
Jonathan just stared straight ahead, grimly keeping his mind focused on the task at hand, his response clipped and short, "I did what I had to do. She'd have been a liability and we've work to do."
****************************
In the ruins behind them, Bellesta watched them head off into the forest, kicking idly at some of the charred debris on the ground around her, "It's not fair. I deserve a chance to at least try. And besides, they're not doing anything hard, following that trail...."
Bellesta's voice trailed off as she thought about what she was saying, her red eyes peering into the edges of the forest around her and her mind churning. Something about what Jonathan had said suddenly didn't sit right with her, but she couldn't put her finger on it at first.
After a moment of idle thought, her eyes widened and she murmured to herself, "There is no way they would have left a trail, even with wounded. They're way too picky about who they let near their encampments. Why would there be a trail when they could just leave the wounded behind and not risk their holdout? They wouldn't even let any of us who weren't with them near their secret places."
Bellesta concentrated hard, trying to puzzle it out and having great difficulty with the question. She was not very knowledgeable about strategy and tactics, and the actions of her enemies puzzled her to no end. After a few moments of essentially staring absentmindedly into the forest, her eyes widened again and she snapped her fingers.
"That's it! It's one of those...what do you call thems...where you hide and wait for people so you can hurt them! A bush!" Bellesta exclaimed. She frowned and shook her head, "No, that's not it, but whatever, they're going to get hurt if I don't help them!"
With that she burst into action, turning and running around behind the ruins of the tavern before leading out a horse that she purchased from one of the tavern patrons who had lost his cart in the fire and no longer needed the creature. Although it was old and not a warhorse, it would do for fast travel and right now that is what Bellesta needed the most. With a shout she jumped up into the saddle, snapping the reins and causing the old beast to burst into a rather slow trot.
"Don't worry guys, I'm coming to help!" Bellesta said to no one in particular, a smile plastered to her face as she set out on her first real adventure.
Saturday, January 4, 2014
A Special Set of Skills- A Tera Story
Note: The following story is an origin
tale for a character set in the world of Tera.
Several months ago, outskirts of
the Oblivion Woods.
The inside of the wayside tavern was a welcome sight to Captain
Jonathan Silde. After traveling for many miles through the twisting
paths within the woods the day was drawing to a close and he felt
bone weary. The tavern itself was small, if comfortable looking on
the inside with a large hearth set off to one side of the common
room, a bar, and a doorway leading into what he presumed was a
kitchen in the rear. A set of stairs outside lead to several rooms on
the structure's second floor that one could rent for the evening.
As he pushed through the doorway and shut out the deepening night
behind him, Jonathan searched the room for a place to sit. The tavern
was obviously a popular stopping point for travelers and all of the
tables had at least one or two people sitting in quiet and sometimes
not-so-quiet conversation. As he looked around, Jonathan made eye
contact with a grizzled looking old man with graying hair. The older
man nodded at him, beckoning him over.
“Come have a seat, lad,” the man said with a smile. “The name's
Ben Greenhand and I'm always one to welcome a weary traveler to my
table.”
Sinking into the seat with some degree of relief, Jonathan smiled and
extended his hand, “Jonathan Silde, sir. I thank you for the
kindness.”
“Oh think nothing of it,” Ben said with a grin as he returned the handshake. “Besides, a weary soldier ain't doing any of us no good, now is he? Sit and drink and you can repay sharing my table with a few tales from the world out there.”
“Oh think nothing of it,” Ben said with a grin as he returned the handshake. “Besides, a weary soldier ain't doing any of us no good, now is he? Sit and drink and you can repay sharing my table with a few tales from the world out there.”
Jonathan blinked once and grinned, “That obvious eh? I was trying
not to wear any rank insignia on my armor until I got to my new
posting at Lumbertown.”
The old man laughed, slapping a hand down on the table, “Takes an
old soldier to spot a soldier, friend. Was a time when I used to
carry a sword instead of an ax to fell trees. Good to see some fresh
blood coming into these parts though, what with the troubles going
on. Don't take that the wrong way though, you'll like it here just
fine I'm thinking. We got lots of positives out here on the edge of
civilization.”
Jonathan laughed, setting his travel pack down beside him along with
his twin swords, sighing with relief as the weight was removed,
“Positives eh? What do you have out here in the middle of nowhere?”
Ben grinned and brought his hands up to his mouth, issuing a sharp
whistle from between his lips and fingers. Jonathan blinked once in
curiosity before he realized the man was calling the barmaid over. He
turned, figuring that the place must have great food, and stopped,
his mouth hanging open in surprise.
To say the barmaid was beautiful was an understatement. Jet black
hair hung long around her face and he presumed down the middle of her
back, swaying with the movements of her perfectly hourglass figure as
she deftly made her way through the throng within the tavern, somehow
avoiding the grasping hands that reached out to touch her as if by
instinct. The light pink skin and metal horns jutting from the top of
the Castanic woman's head did little to detract from the sight of the
skin-tight leather pants and low cut vest she wore; in fact they gave
her more of an exotic appearance and added to her beauty.
As she came closer, she smiled down at Ben, a somewhat vapid look on
her face as she tilted her head, “You need something, Ben?”
“Yes my dear, my new friend here needs some ale and a bit of some
of that roast you were serving earlier,” Ben replied with a grin.
“I could use some more ale myself as well.”
The Castanic woman's red eyes blinked once and then she reached down
to a small pocket on her pants. Her eyes widened a bit and she began
to pat her other pockets, shaking her head in disappointment, “Oh
gods, I forgot my notepad again. Hold on just one second sweetie!
I'll be back in a flash!”
With that the dull-witted creature darted back into the crowd,
heading towards the bar. Jonathan managed to tear his gaze away from
her swaying hips long enough to see the older man grinning at him
before they both laughed.
“She's a sweetheart, but if there's more than a spring breeze
between her pointed ears I'd be surprised,” Ben said with a grin.
“Still, she treats everyone kindly and she's a welcome sight to see
walking around here. Like I said, this place has a lot of positives
going for it.”
Jonathan nodded and grinned, watching in appreciation as the
air-headed barmaid wound her way back through the crowd, notepad
clutched triumphantly in her hands and a gorgeous smile plastered on
her face.
Positives
indeed..
***************************************************
It was getting late in the evening, and Jonathan had pushed his plate
and his now-empty mug of ale away from him as he reclined in the
chair. He'd been exchanging stories with the old lumberjack for hours
and was starting to feel the weariness from his travels set in. The
rest of the tavern had wound down to a dull murmur as well, few of
the patrons as rowdy as they'd been when the evening began.
Across the tavern the barmaid, whom Jonathan had come to know was
named Bellesta or Bell for short, was leaning against the edge of the
bar, watching the patrons and cleaning her hands with a rag. The
bartender behind her had begun to doze off where he sat, leaning
against his own bar with his head down on the wooden plank that made
up its top, light snores issuing from him.
It was the drowsy, torpid energy in the room that made the sudden
attack so devastating. One moment Jonathan was preparing to rise and
saying his good-nights to old Ben, and the next moment there was a
thunderous roar as explosives were detonated in front of the windows
and doors of the tavern.
The blasts blew in the glass and sent splinters of wood from the
shattered barrier flying into the room. A half dozen of the patrons
nearest to the exterior wall of the structure fell instantly, pierced
by flying projectiles. Through the choking smoke and flaming holes in
the walls, the stunned patrons could see people running frantically
outside of the structure and the small wall that guarded the inn
engulfed in flames beyond.
That was all the time that those within had to come to terms with the
situation before a number of horned figures dashed through the holes
in the sides of the structure, weapons glinting in the light of the
flames.
“Devas! We're under attack!” one of the patrons shouted. That was
the only warning those within had before the twisted, evil Castanic
cultists began their assault, weapons flashing as they began to cut
down the patrons within the tavern.
Pandemonium erupted as patrons scrambled out of their chairs. Those
few who had weapons like Jonathan did snatched them up, desperately
trying to ward off blows in their drunken states. Most of those
within the tavern were local lumberjacks or townsfolk traveling from
Lumbertown to Crescentia, and few were able to defend themselves for
any length of time as the brutal cultists made their way through the
tavern.
For his part, Jonathan found himself almost instantly in a heated
battle as the foes realized he was armed. His twin blades spun as he
parried and dodged the blows from the cultists, desperately trying to
clear some space to defend himself. The enemies were brutal in their
assault, their faces covered in dark leather that had been ritually
stained with the blood of their sacrifices and their blades moving
almost faster than the eye could track. As he parried another blow,
Jonathan knew they were in dire straits.
One of the Devas leaped past his guard, a blade traveling towards his
heart. He braced himself, prepared to die only to see the attacker
gasp and fall, a knife protruding from her side. With a snarl Old Ben
was beside Jonathan, another blade in his hand as he cleared some
space near the soldier and bought them both some time. Even with his
valiant efforts, the two and a few other patrons were trapped with
the hearth behind them and no route out of the tavern.
As he took in the situation, Jonathan looked across the bar, his
heart sinking as he saw the Devas leaping towards those who were
further within the structure. Unable to look away, he watched in
horror as one of the attackers jumped on a table and brought his
wicked looking two-handed blade down, right towards the barmaid
Bellesta's head. Jonathan screamed, knowing he could not save the
poor woman.
To his surprise, the dull-witted Castanic woman jumped backwards, her
hands instinctively snatching at the bar behind her. She grabbed a
platter that was normally used to bring roast pigs to the tables. It
was a heavy metal disc with two metal handles along its rim to allow
servers to carry the heavier roasts out. As Jonathan watched,
Bellesta brought the platter up just in time to intersect the second
swing of the sword, the metal of the blade sparking as it connected
with the platter, nearly jarring the weapon from the Deva's hand.
As if this was not surprising enough, Bellesta then stepped towards
her attacker, her eyes wide as if she had no idea why she was doing
what she was doing. She brought the heavy metal platter up and down,
right on the attacker's face, the sound of the metal striking flesh
carrying over the battle and enough to almost make Jonathan wince if
hadn't had more pressing concerns.
In front Jonathan more of the Devas pushed forward, intent on slaying
the patrons sheltering behind the soldier and his old companion.
Jonathan responded in kind, his blades flashing as he attempted to
block the attacks of the faster moving Devas, Old Ben fighting
alongside him until a wound to his arm made him fall back.
Across the tavern, several of the other patrons had rallied behind
Bellesta as she began to systematically bludgeon people unconscious
with her serving platter. If not for the dire danger they were in the
sight might almost have been comical, with the dark-haired Castanic
having looped her arm through the handles on the rim of the platter
as if it were a shield.
Unfortunately the Devas were intent on destroying the tavern, and
flames had already begun to lick up the outer edges of the structure.
Jonathan knew they were running out of time even as a renewed attack
by the cultists forced him back and closer to the hearth behind him.
Across the tavern, he saw a wave of enemies push Bellesta back, the
tide of battle sweeping her and those few who had stood behind her
towards the kitchen doorway at the back of the tavern. He lamented
that she would probably die there, cut down as she bravely fought
alongside the patrons to defend the tavern.
He was given little time to think after that, the final push of the
Devas forcing him back further and further, condensing the small mass
of survivors behind him together as they tried to avoid being pushed
into the hearth. It was clear that the cultists were going to either
cut them down or force them into the fire where they would burn, and
it looked like there was little he could do to stop them.
Minutes went by, precious time that they didn't have, and Jonathan
felt his arms growing weary from the endless attacks. He began to
take wounds, here a blade striking his hip, there a backstroke
nicking his arm and making him bleed. With each cut, each wound his
strength began to fade, until one of the Devas finally got through
his guard, delivering a kick to his chest that threw him to the
floor.
As he looked up through bleary eyes, he could see one of the Devas
grinning down at him, blade raised to deliver a killing blow. In that
moment, a battle-shout rolled out over the tavern, and he turned his
head, looking away from his would-be killer and across the
blood-spattered floor of the tavern.
The shout had come from the doorway of the kitchen, and to Jonathan's
ever-lasting surprise the Devas that had been fighting there were
hurled back as a pack of tavern-goers and cooks emerged from the
doorway, butcher knives and pots in hand and wielded as weapons.
Leading them was Bellesta, her red eyes flashing as she battered one
of the attackers out of the way with her platter-shield. In her other
hand she held a broom handle, the end of it having been snapped off
into a sharpened point which she plunged into the neck of one of the
Devas that tried to stand in the group's way.
In an instant the tide of the battle turned, cultists falling back
and away from the enraged defenders, Bellesta's charge forcing them
away from the group and negating their agile movements as she bodily
slammed into them and then slammed them into one another. Another
warcry burst from her mouth as her make-shift spear plunged forward,
stabbing into the guts of one of the Devas and dropping him to the
floor.
Jonathan smiled, closing his eyes as he prepared to die, the
knowledge that even the least-likely person could rise up as a hero
in an emergency giving him comfort. He braced himself for the killing
blow he knew was coming, only opening his eyes again when a heavy
object thudded to the floor beside him.
When his eyes opened, he was staring into the dead eyes of a Deva,
the Castanic's neck a bloody mess from where he'd been stabbed.
Jonathan rolled his head, looking up to see Bellesta standing over
him now, her platter-shield bashing the senses out of another Deva
and deflecting a blade that would have struck her in the heart.
Behind her the cooks rushed in, their cleavers swinging and their
enraged attack forcing the cultists back further. Realizing that
their attack was about to bog down, the crafty foes withdrew as if
they had all heard a signal, a few of them exchanging blows with the
tavern defenders before darting back out through the flaming opening
they'd used to enter the establishment.
Just like that, the battle was over, the tavern falling silent for a
moment with only the crackle of the flames and the heavy breathing of
those who had survived to be heard. Those who had lived through the
attack paused, looking at each other and sharing a moment of
camaraderie that would stay with them for the rest of their lives.
Above Jonathan, Bellesta stirred, stepping forward and turning to
look at those who had fought with her, her eyes wide in surprise at
what they had all done. Jonathan's experienced eyes could see that
she had never been in a battle before, never wielded weapons in her
life. The surprise that she'd lived, that she'd triumphed, was
genuine and spoke of a natural skill with weapons that, if nurtured,
would grow to make a mighty champion one day. He knew he had to act
fast to preserve it and to encourage it to grow, for the Federation
needed people like the barmaid to fight for it, especially if the
cultists had grown so bold.
He sat up, coughing once and speaking into the shocked silence, his
words carrying weight in the stunned minds of the survivors, “We've
faced darkness today friends. We've faced those who would lay us low
and burn our towns and take our lands in the name of vile gods. But
instead of running in fear, we took up weapons and defended our
homes, our nation against that darkness. We stood firm in the face of
defeat, and gave it our all.”
He rose slowly and painfully from the floor, grunting as his wounds
cried out for rest. Instead he forced himself to stand, looking each
of the defenders in the eye, lingering when he came to Bellesta,
speaking as if he was speaking to her, “Not everyone would do what
you have all done here tonight. Many would flee in terror. It is
champions like you who will shape the future. It is heroes like you
who will decide what kind of place the Federation will be in the
future. You should all be proud of yourselves, of what you have
accomplished, of your bravery.”
He spoke now directly to her, a smile on his lips as she stared
wide-eyed at him, knowing that he would plant the seeds for the
future in her mind, “I am Captain Jonathan Silde and part of the
Federation's army, and I say that the deeds I have seen this night
are tales to be told for years to come. You have done the Federation
a great service this night, and we are all in your debt. Never forget
your strength, for it can take you so much further. Thank you, hero.”
The rest of the survivors cheered when he finished, their joyous
cries rolling over Bellesta and echoing out into the night. In the
noise she made no sound, but he saw her blush and look down at her
own hands in wonder. He saw her studying the broken broom handle that
she'd used to slay her enemies, knew she was reliving the battle
again in her head, the long handle of the splintered wood grasped
firmly in her hands.
Hands that would one day grip a lance. A lance that would be used not
by a barmaid, but by a champion of the Federation who had only just
discovered just what it was she could do if she tried.
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