• PM To Join • Taking of the Guard: Andaris B [VII Event]

[Muse]

VII TAKING OF THE GUARD

15 CYLUS 718 | ANDARIS B

Two little sausags sizzling in a pan, one went pop, and the other went BANG!

The break was early, or late, depending on when one awoke during a trial. The darkness, ever consuming and ever perpetual in Cylus blanketed the baronies of Rynmere like some ominous being, ready to steal the unwary to their demise. It was bitterly cold, wet and snowy, an unwelcome condition for anyone to be working in.

And yet, there were those working, frozen to their cores as they patrolled the city streets and byways of Drakengard, dressed in their armourment over thick winter woollens with moonlight dancing off the beautiful white stone that made Astedia's capital a sight to behold. The Guards, military men and women who called the Barony home, who had sworn to protect the civilians that dwelt within. Common and noble alike. Sworn to protect with their lives.
Victor stroked his beard as he stood in the darkness, watching his team complete their handiwork. It had been a long time since he was personally involved in any field work, but the events at the mage executions had given him a newfound sense of purpose. The Boy King’s decree was an abomination born of fear and youthful inexperience, and the older man couldn’t stay in the shadows any longer. He could still hear the screams of the girl they had burnt at the pyre.

He could still smell her.

“You’ll never get away with this!” The young woman growled as they bound her hands behind her back, tying the bindings tight. The bandit behind her chuckled and shoved a gag in her mouth, lifting her painfully by the arms and shoving her to walk towards Victor. Another already marched along with them, his companion nothing but a bloody stain in the street.

“My dear, if the King can get away with murder, I assure you we can get away with this.” The grey haired man said in a rich baritone, before moving to walk with them, his orders clear in his mind.

One to take, one to kill, one to spread the message.
“Shit!” The VII member hissed as the guard he’d chosen to take out moved faster than anticipated, parrying the sword and moving with a counter attack. The team of three ambushed him, a solitary knight standing to attention at the city gates, thinking they would be easy to take. Unfortunately their judgement had been sorely off.

“Take that, you bastards!” The large Knight roared, swinging his sword with wide powerful arcs. With a cry, the attacking bandit found himself cleaved nearly in two, leaving his companions staring in surprise at his destroyed body.

“Come on then!” He goaded the bandits, shifting his grip. It might have mattered, it might have been a decent fight, but what ever it might have been ended as quickly as it started as a small dagger sliced the tender skin behind his knee where the armour exposed it. Yelping in shock, the Knight spun to face his attacker, a beautiful young woman with caramel hair.

“You two, with me. Idiots. Quickly now, before someone comes.” Varin snapped, slipping her blade back in her holster and walking rapidly away with the two bandits on her heels. The Knight moved to follow her, falling suddenly to one knee and coughing heavily. His breathing wheezed and his eyes bulged.

“What...you...argh...” He sputtered, blood frothing at his lips. The woman glanced back with a smile.

“Even the toughest man is no match for a woman and her poisons.” Shrugging, she continued her departure as the large man dropped his sword with a clatter, clutching at his chest.
Like ghosts in the night, the VII packs orchestrated their attacks; taking, killing or rendering unconscious at random guards from the streets or at their posts. Even the Baronies weren’t spared from their touch, men and women alike taken or attacked.

As the breaks progressed, so did the VII, disappearing into the Cylus darkness without a trace. At the changing of the guard there was pandemonium as colleagues would find their brothers or sisters nursing their wounds, followed by the shriek of a commoner stumbling across a body bleeding out it’s last grasp of life. Screams and bells of alarm began to ring through the city.

Too little too late.

For those left alive, or scrawled in the blood of the dead, there had been a message left as clear as day.

We are the power in Rynmere. Never forget.

Hi All, welcome to your next modded event.

Please note, this is happening concurrently across the whole Kingdom of Rynmere, and you have been placed in a group that best allows you to react. There are open options here for you to pursue:

• Find a dead/downed guardsman and take action (help or don’t)
• Run into a VII member (this is high risk)
• Investigate/interrogate a survivor

Talley of Guards killed/taken/left behind as messages will be provided post event wrap up.

Rules:

• You must post either 3 posts or 1500 words to be eligible for rewards
• We will post once a week and you can only post once per round
• There is no post order

Have fun guys!

[Xander Andaris]

Xander had always been an early riser, even before the twins came. However, since the two babies had come into the world he had found himself awake at many odd hours. It wasn't helped by the constant darkness of Cylus, it was hard to keep track of whether it was night or day. Now was one of those odd hours. The baby in his arms may have looked like him but she had certainly inherited her mother's stubbornness. Sleeping was not her strong suit especially not when she was supposed to be.

So now he had refused to let Celeste get up to the sound of the screaming baby, claiming it to be no trouble. It was the truth too, it really wasn't a problem for him, having his child in his arms made everything feel better. She had quickly fallen back to sleep though after he took her from the crib, apparently she just wanted attention. The noble had decided to make the most of this time though and had taken the girl with him to his study.

Papers were scattered across his desk almost without any rhyme or reason, at least for others it would appear that way but he knew exactly what and where each of the papers were. He began to look over ledgers and other political and economic documents, making sure to keep close tabs on the goings on around the Duchy. Of course there was only so long he could go without feeling tired too and as he cradled the baby in his arms he leaned back in his chair.

It felt like they had been closed for only a second when the sound of the crying baby filled his ears. The screams were in chorus with the bells it seemed, bells he could not quite manage to explain until his mind quickly snapped awake. Dakengard. It had to be the source and as he stood and went to the window that looked towards the city he could tell it was the case. Xander held the fragile girl in his arms, shielding and protecting her in his grasps. He needed to wake Celeste.

He deposited the child back into the crib trying his best not to wake her twin and unfortunately failing. Then the wolf woke the mistress of the nursery, apologising before requesting she try and get the twins back to sleep. Finally he came back into their bedroom, moving quickly to the bed side. "Quick, something is happening in Drakengard, the alarm bells are ringing we need to go."

"I am sorry to wake you but duty calls." He gently shook her shoulder, rousing her from her slumber quite suddenly. The carriage was already being prepared and he moved to the wardrobe dressing in his gambeson, brigandine, trousers and boots. The sword finished his outfit as it hung from the belt he added last.
The carriage ride from the Astedia Estate to the city of Drakengard was not a long one but it was long enough for the wolf to properly wake up. Opposite him was Celeste, he had contemplated telling her not to come, it could be dangerous. Unfortunately for his paranoia it was their duty, both of them and she would likely have told him to shut his mouth and help her get ready. "I am worried." He looked at his wife and sighed. "This has not happened before, I am worried are you sure you will be okay out here?" Xander had to make sure.

The sound of the wheels turned from dirt to cobbles as they came close to the city's outer limits. His eyes were drawn to the outside by the change and he watched the moonlit white stone come into view as they began to pass through the streets. "I need you to promise me you will be careful no matter what?" He looked at her meaningfully as he slipped up his sleeve revealing the spring loaded knife she had once given him. "Take this, just in case." He slid it off and held it out to her offering her the extra protection it could bring hidden up her sleeve. "Please."

That was when he spotted it though, the red contrasting heavily with the white even in the darkness. "Stop!" He was almost half way out the door as he yelled it to the driver, the carriage slowing to a halt as Xander dropped out and found the man leant up against a tall three story house.

The guard's hand was clamped heavily over the wound in his side, another man lay dead beside him and out of the corner of his eye he spotted the man. Who he was Xander had no idea but he was sure it wasn't good. He barely had time to shout to Celeste before he broke into a sprint after the man. "Help him." His voice would echo back to the carriage if Celeste had not already stepped out as he made chase after the mysterious man sneaking off in the shadows.

Xander was not the fastest runner and nor did he have the greatest form but he did have endurance, he could run for some time and he wasn't really slow either. He hoped to tackle the man before he had chance to get away or draw a weapon but he would have to catch up to him first, Xander just hoped he could do so.

[Doran]

The Mortalborn had travelled to Drakengard in order to meet with a few people and perhaps pay a former student of his, Xander Krome who was now Xander Andaris, a visit as well. To that end he had rented a room at a local inn. He had arrived late, just a few bits before midnight, and gone to bed right away so that he would be well-rested the following trial, only to find his sleep interrupted by a loud scream somewhere outside his window. No, it wasn’t a scream, it was a cacophony of screams, followed by the ringing of alarm bells. He knew what was going on even before he opened the window of his room a crack in order to take a look outside. The war, the one that he had told everybody would come, had finally begun, a little earlier than he had anticipated.

He put his clothes on – sturdy leathers that were suitable for travelling and offered some protection against a blade as well as a warm cloak that was lined with fur - grabbed his sword and descended the stairs. Everywhere around him doors were being opened, and people peeked their heads outside. Some looked scared, some looked confused and simply stood there, staring at him and rubbing their eyes, and yet others tried to warn him that it would be too dangerous to go outside right now. He paid them no heed, but simply pushed the door open and stepped outside. It was cold, to the point that his breath formed little clouds in front of his face, and it was dark, but that bothered him little. He was a son of Ziell, the Immortal of Winter, and the darkness was his domain.

By the time that he stepped onto the street, the screams had died down a little, although he could still hear the sound of fighting somewhere in the distance, at the same time that the city slowly came to life again. Mortals stumbled around on the street, scared and confused. Some of them were wearing only their night clothes. There was a man, a member of the guard, leaning against a nearby doorway, motionlessly and with his eyes closed as if he were dead or unconscious. His once pristine uniform was covered with blood. When the Mortalborn knelt down in the snow next to him and placed two fingers against the side of his neck to check if he still had a pulse, he suddenly opened his eyes and tried to move.

Doran shook his head to let him know that such would be a bad idea – moving might cause further damage - and then he began to examine him in order to determine the extent of his wounds – there had been a time, before that fateful trial in Oscillus when he had been a doctor and tried to save lives rather than taking them. As he did that, he asked, “Can you tell me what happened? Who attacked Drakengard – and how many?” He needed to know more about what kind of enemy they were facing before he proceeded – in order to determine the best way to take care of the threat – and come out on top.

[Kherron]

He hadn't been here long, at least not long enough to become accustomed to the relative change of scenery. Work had found him in the stuffy, packed taverns that dotted the span of Drakengard's market streets; doubtless a haven for those seeking to escape the bitter embrace of the cold winter air. Though his blood was reminiscent of molten silver, the chill wind cut right to his bones, forcing him to layer more than usual.

He'd arrived in this city only a few days earlier, seeking work where he could, and wandering through the streets to become familiar with the various alleys, shortcuts and hidden passageways. It had become a common routine for the mortalborn; making sure that in every possible scenario he had a way out. It wasn't so much out of cowardice as simply wanting to avoid unnecessary attention. Should he be followed, then, he wouldn't be cornered like some rabid hound.

But work didn't come as easily as he liked. Something in the air stirred; he could almost taste it on his tongue. The rumours passed on the lips of the tavern goers like the wind that howled between the trees. An execution had taken place ten days prior for a girl that had been branded a mage.

Mage.

He could hear their anxious tones as they uttered that title, as though speaking it aloud would incur a strike from the heavens. Kherron had listened with a curiosity that wavered into a sense of unease. Nothing on his face had betrayed his inner musings as he lifted a wooden tankard to his lips and took a sip of the sour ale. Watery, but it would suffice. The mortalborn turned his gaze to an older gentleman sitting at the booth to his right, and was about to make a comment when there was a sudden clamor of screams and swords outside the establishment. While it was a good distance off, heads raised from their slumps, the patrons of the bar suddenly on edge, their eyes dancing around the room.

Even in the middle of the night, I can't get any rest. Kherron rubbed a gloved hand down his face and set the tankard down just as men and women alike rose to head toward the window, peering into the lightless cobblestone streets outside. The mortal born did not head toward the window, however, he gripped the hilt of the shortsword at his side, and maneuvered his way to the door, pushing it open. The cold, snow flaked air hit him like an invisible wall. He shouldered his jacket tighter, jaw tight and trudged through the slosh of trampled snow.

The screams and clashing of metals were resounding from different corners of the city, as though this had been planned. And perhaps it was. Kherron had, at one time, been involved in plans that were staged like this, during his life as a Scarr Kol, when taking a life was as easy as breathing. But now...

His eyes scoured the dark, narrowing with a predatory intensity. He glimpsed a male figure, hunched over something he couldn't quite glimpse. Kherron moved closer, blade drawn, though not brandished and stopped a few feet away. From his vantage, he noticed the fallen guard, bloodied and battered, at his feet.

"Perhaps you should help him first, before he decides to bleed out and your questions go unanswered," Kherron cut in, his voice reminiscent to the frost and ice that threatened to consume the town whole. "Sorry, I have a knack for butting in at inopportune times."

He turned when he noticed another body, laying several feet ahead of where the dark, bearded man and the dying guard lay, approaching with swift steps to examine the corpse. Guard. The uniform was just as bloodied as the one the stranger was speaking to. Brutalized and shredded.

"Curious." His voice was barely audible, and he spoke to no one but himself as he straightened and gazed down the street, where the darkness swallowed every inch of dirt and stone. And in those gloomy depths, he caught a glimpse of steel, flashing under moonlight.

Kherron narrowed his gaze, feeling the thrum of his domain crackle in his veins, and he broke out into a run, following that shadowed form, straight into the abyss.

Sorry in Advance

Doran, for butting in. Haha.

Kherron is giving chase to someone in the dark. I'm sure it'll end wonderfully.

[Torqin]

Torqin woke to the sound of knocking on his door. By how slowly his eyes crawled open, he realized that he'd not been asleep for long. The knock sounded again, urgent. Grumbling, he slipped from the sheets, not bothering to dress. Anyone knocking upon his door at this hour deserved potential embarrassment at seeing him naked. He wasn't shy, but was certainly feeling a bit spiteful. He grabbed his club from where it leaned against his bedpost, and strode over to the door. Sliding open the peephole, he looked out into the darkness, barely able to make it out a huge mess of dark curls.

Toddy.

Torqin sighed, and raised the lock-bar, opening the door. He looked down at the young man. The young boy he'd known when he first started at the stables was turning into a beanpole. Torqin grunted, the most polite response he could manage, to one of the only people who genuinely deserved such etiquette. The boy was a bit of a simpleton, but he had a lot more compassion and love for the animals at the Astedia Stables than most could even hope to feel.

"Ya need to come to work, Torqin. Lady Celeste and Lord Xander are to take the carriage to Drakengard, the bells are ringing. We must be ready before they arrive at the stables."

Torqin nodded, turning from the boy, leaving the door open. He quickly dressed, and was about to leave, when he realized the bells sounding meant trouble. Trouble the lady and lord would be investigating. He looked over at where he kept his armor bundled up and smiled. He'd not had the opportunity to get an audience with Celeste since his return from the Eastern Settled. It was time to make a good first impression, seize this moment to help her, and help himself.

Fully armored, club and shield in hand, wrapped up in his cloak, Torqin trudged into the stables with Toddy in tow. Toddy was always at the stables. He had his own place with his parents, but everyone knew the cot in the office belonged to him. The boy couldn't be away from the creatures he cared so much for. Another stablehand, a man by the name of Carlton was readying the carriage. Torqin walked up, "Are you driving tonight?" The young man nodded. "I'll be joining you up front."

The tired man just shrugged and nodded. Everyone at the stables knew the bells were an emergency, and all emergencies were a call to work, not just for them, but most of the staff for the estate. You could never fully predict what nobles would need to do in a crisis. And so, when Lord Xander and Lady Celeste left the doors of their manor, Carlton was sitting up top, reins in hand, while Torqin stood next to the open carriage door, greeting them both properly, and not allowing his eyes to linger on Celeste longer than they should.
The drive went smooth enough, while Torqin continuously scanned the area around them. His eyes looked to every shadow, every alley, every rooftop, ever vigilant. The pair of drivers didn't speak, as that would be unprofessional in the presence of their employers. The carriage bounced lightly over the cobbled whitestones, and Torqin made sure to cast an extra glance as they passed his mother's house. Her lamp was on, and he saw movement inside, and he relaxed. She was probably readying to help in a different way, though it was hard to say what, as the emergency was unknown still.

The air was biting, and Torqin huddled under his cloak tight, holding his torch a bit closer. Cylus was not a wonderful season. Too cold, too dark. As he adjusted the torch, the light revealed the bleeding man leaning against a wall. Rather than call out loudly, Torqin put his hand out in front of Carlton, and the driver slowed to a stop, simultaneous with Lord Xander's command. Torqin descended from his spot on the carriage, casting wary eyes to the situation as he saw Lord Xander rushing over recklessly, leaving Celeste behind.

The torchlight revealed not just the injured man, but a dead one as well, and immediately Torqin drew his club. There were attackers about, and they'd just rolled up into the area, unprepared. Carlton wouldn't be much of a help in a fight, but everyone knew Lord Xander was no slouch in a fight. They would be able to defend off most att-- aaaaaand he's gone. Lord Xander was already chasing after an unseen assailant, down a darkened alley, with no assistance, light, or apparent care for his own safety, or that of his wife. Torqin scowled.

But the Lotharro man was not about to slouch in the duties Lady Celeste's husband failed to fulfill. He belted his club, pulling his shield from the carriage, and holding it at the ready. Lord Xander had commanded him to help the fallen guard, but Torqin felt a stronger sense of duty to the woman who'd saved his life all those arcs ago. Taking charge of the situation, "Carlton, bring the man over here. I will guard the carriage."

The man grumbled, and Torqin stepped in front of the open door of the carriage, leaving plenty of room for her to exit comfortably, but purposefully blocking the view of the corpse. "My lady, there's been an attack on the guard, one dead, injured. We must be extremely careful, we are exposed, without assistance. Lord Xander has given chase to an assailant. We are here to protect you, and give aid to the injured man."

Turning away from Celeste, his torchlight fell on the wall. And there, painted in blood, 'We are the power in Rynmere. Never forget.'

Watching as Carlton got under the injured man's shoulder, and lugged him over, Torqin kept the torch high enough to cast as few shadows as possible. Once back at the carriage, the man set the injured guard down to sit, his back against the carriage wheel. "Carlton, up top, keep look out." The man grumbled but complied holding his own torch high to illuminate as much of the street as possible. Torqin knelt down next to the guard, "What happened?"

The man was clutching a wound that was bleeding especially dark blood out of his fingers, "We.. we were on patrol. Ambushed. They killed Shovenne before we knew they were there... I fought 'em off as best I could. Injured one I think. Bastards put that shit on the wall with his blood. Who does that?"

The man was growing paler by the minute, and it seemed evident he didn't have much longer. Torqin removed his cloak, draping it over the dying man, to give him some warmth in his final moments. There was no doctor around he knew, nor were he or Carlton medical practitioners. This man was unfortunately a lost cause. But he could die in comfort.

"What's your name, friend?"

"Reginald, my lady calls me Reggie."

Torqin offered small talk to the man. Asked him about his woman, unmarried but living together. She was a seamstress, Ki'orra, worked down the street. Reggie had no kids, but him and Ki'orra had begun trying. He always wanted to build his own house by hand, she always wanted to visit the mountains. And Torqin stayed with the man, until he finally drifted off. Torqin gave it a moment before he stood, leaving the cloak be. And by torchlight, Celeste would finally be able to see his face clearly, the same face of the boy that escaped with her into the woods, eleven arcs ago. The boy, now a man, that was scanning the darkness with a cold fury in his eyes, daring anyone to come now.

They'd be met with the same hostility they'd given these guards. These working men and women who did nothing but protect those who needed it.

[Celeste Andaris]

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She'd woken in a haze, the new mother looked at her husband blearily but shook herself immediately. "Is it the girls? Drakengard? What?" She was up and moving. Celeste could have easily been getting more sleep, they had servants and such who would be able to look after the twins, but she had insisted that she got up with them, she fed them - there would be no wet nurse and when Lin suggested it she was met with short shrift. These were her children, that was that.

So, she got quickly dressed, pulling on a pair of trousers and a shirt, which she left loose and she pulled her hair back in a ponytail. Then, she got in the carriage with him and she sat, pensively. What was happening? Would he speak to her? He did though, and he said that he was worried, asked her if she would be alright here. Celeste smiled, the best smile she could give him and unaware that it made her look more afraid, because she was determined to be brave. "I believe I told you already, Lord Krome," she said, trying to tease him and remind him of a different time. "I am not made of potato mash." It had been such a long time ago, in a different world. "You worry too much."

But then, he handed her the knife she had once bought him and Celeste looked at it in surprise. "You still have this? Xander..." She took it and nodded her head. "Help me put it on?" As he did, she spoke to him. Her voice was quiet, well aware that even in a carriage they were never alone. So her whispered words were for him alone. "Our babies need both parents Xander. I'll live. You do the same. Promise me?" But then, suddenly everything was happening all at once and Xander called for the carriage to stop and he was half out of the carriage even as he shouted.

She followed him, quickly. Moving out of the carriage, she cursed the toll that her recent pregnancy had taken on her - she had just been beginning to achieve a level of fitness. But no more. However, she was determined and she looked at the bleeding man and, at Xander's words, she moved forward stepping down to just that, to help him. "Xander, what do I... Xander?" Looking up from where she had been looking at the ground as she left the carriage, she realised that he'd gone. Run, and Celeste felt a familiar feeling, which she pushed to one side.

Then, one of the guards, the one who had been sitting with the driver she thought, stepped forward and held up a torch. "I understand. We have to help him." Quickly enough it became apparent that the man, the injured guard, was dying. As the driver put his cloak over the wounded man, Celeste turned and stepped back to the carriage, pulling the cushion off the seat, ripping it but not caring. She took it and put it under the man's head. "Help will come, Reggie, and when you see her next, you'll be able to tell Ki'orra all about how brave you were. I'd like to meet her, tell her too." She spoke with him and, like the driver who she paid little attention to as she was focused on the dying man, she remained with him until he passed. She held his hand and made sure that he had human comfort.

After he had gone, she leaned forward and closed his eyes, then she started to speak. "We're not leaving him here. Put him in the carriage, plea..." Stopping mid sentence, the young woman who had just held a stranger's hand as he died without pausing or hesitating let out a gasp and her hand lifted, as though she was going to touch his face. Except she didn't. Wide brown eyes suddenly filled with tears and she spoke in a whisper. "Torqin? Is... is that you?" She had wondered so many times over the arcs whether he had lived. Was he really here now?

[Muse]

VII TAKING OF THE GUARD

15 CYLUS 718 | ANDARIS B

Drakengard was a city of graceful structure: beautifully built in white stone, the proud port of Andaris, and almost militaristic in regularity. The VII were bandits, ne'er do wells, rebels, and their goals were much more robust than simple disruption and terror, though the blood left in their wake and the struggling warm bodies dragged away from their posts may have made them appear otherwise once everyone could look back on to-trial in hindsight.

The breeze from Cyrene bay was particularly frigid in the darkness of the Cylus morning, and it carried sound sharply above the wash of the waves against the hulls of ships and the dock: whispers of voices and the groans of the dying crisp against the pale stone walls of buildings as people began to wake to the horror that had unfolded while they slept. Deck hands stirred and began to move their cargo, shopkeepers woke and made their way through town to begin to open their doors, and the new shift of guards arrived to their posts to find the horrible evidence of the VII's plans.

Bells rang and all of Drakengard woke suddenly, jolted in the darkness by panic and fear. The strike in the night was brutal, purposeful, and the bodies of the dead and dying were left where they could be found, blood staining white stone and freezing on cobblestones in the salty wind.
Xander's restlessness proved worthy, despite the nagging exhaustion that new babies seemed to bring into his very bones. Celeste was shaken from her rather welcome moment of sleep by her husband, and once the pair was ready, found their way on a carriage making haste into the city proper. Torqin could see from his place near the driver before anyone else, words smeared in blood and a body right as they entered the gate.

Shadows passed by their view out the frosted windows, and more than once Xander was sure he saw a person flitting from a rooftop or a figure pass between an alley. It was when he saw the blood, the red stain, and the glint of steel, however, that he called for the carriage to stop, hooves clattering on cobblestone and horses neighing their objections to the swift stop. Barely waiting for the motion of their transport to come to a full halt, the once-Krome leapt out of the door and into the street, desperate to take in the scene.

It was the faintest of motions that caught his eye, and he took off after the fleeing figure, who certainly didn't wait for him, proving himself guilty with the choice. As Xander gave chase, he left his wife and the carriage driver alone with the dead and dying guards.

The swiftly-moving figure might have laughed, his voice ringing out in the darkness as he moved just a little faster than his pursuer, causing Xander to loose ground, but perhaps he was also a bit overconfident. The streets of Drakengard were well-organized, not at all similar to the maze-like streets of Andaris. The straight lines and gentle curves meant that soon Xander would be out-run by pure speed, but perhaps not out-endured.

It was just as the Duke feared he would lose sight of the fleeing man in the ruddy darkness of lantern light on a Main Street that he was forced to stop, for the man he'd been chasing had become two,

"What've we got here?"

"Oh, a fine one I'd say—"

"Not a guard, though, by th' looks o' him."

"Doesn't matter. We can carve our name right into his pretty face an' leave it."

"Sounds 'bout right."

The two readied their weapons—one a sword and the other an axe and a buckler. In the lantern light, one hid his face but the other, a dark-haired man with darker eyes and a scar running from cheek bone to cheek bone, did not, both of them grinning wickedly at Xander,

"Let's get on with it, then."
Reggie slipped away between Celeste and Torqin, his injuries far too severe and the cobblestones red with his blood. For a few bits, there was silence, and while the pair realized their connection, shadows moved in the darkness overhead.

Carlton saw, however, and he hissed a warning while staring at the wall one more time, re-reading the words and attempting to understand what in all Idalos they really meant, "We've been spotted, my Lady. Ser Torqin, we cannot stay out in the open here."

The horses snorted and stepped in their reins, uncomfortable but too well-trained to be spooked. The street grew quiet again, however, save for the frigid breeze that ruffled Reggie's matted hair and tugged at the warm clothes everyone wasn't wearing enough of to-trial. In the far distance, laughter carried on the wind and the definite sounds of clashing weapons rang out from an entirely different direction entirely. The trio would only be safe for so long on the main thoroughfare, and while they had no idea who else would be coming, they were being watched already.

It certainly appeared whoever staged the attack had been largely successful, and yet perhaps it also appeared as though many of the attackers had lingered too long or Drakengard awakened far too early than they were expecting. This sort of confusion was all on purpose, of course, and as Victor followed Xander's chasing form down the street and returned his gaze to the body of another guard dying below near the carriage, his smile was smug and satisfied.

This sort of chaos would be talked about for the rest of the season, and with the rest of the dissent going up in flames, then their plans could slowly grow into fruition under the smoke.

The VII commander turned and slipped away into the shadows again, preparing to leave.
The bloodied guard under Doran's fingers groaned, eyes opening slowly to not focus on his questioning face,

"Too many. So dark. Who? I don't know—I ..."

He barely managed to get out the words, his armor crushed near his ribs and blood still steaming on the cobblestones as more leaked from his side,

"They claimed ... to be ... the real ... power."

The guard wheezed, head lolling to one side as Kherron appeared, eyes widening for a moment as he blearily looked past them both,

"Fled ... that way ... took—they took—they took my squire ..." His voice faded with the effort, expression twisting in pain and rage and sadness, "My place in the Eternal Kingdom ... is assured ... find her."

The Knight managed to raise a hand and point to the foot prints in the snow, some of them leading away with his own blood. His attackers were clearly dragging someone, and they'd left a bit of a trail. They certainly wouldn't be taking to the rooftops with an armored individual, but perhaps with a young squire, they may have. It was hard to tell, but those who'd left the Knight to die didn't appear to care whether or not someone wanted to follow behind them, for their trail was sloppy and obvious.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR WAITING ON ME.

Here we go. I'm ready to get this going. Even though it's the end of the season, I hope you'll keep up with me.

Please note, this is happening concurrently across the whole Kingdom of Rynmere, and you have been placed in a group that best allows you to react. There are open options here for you to pursue:

• Find a dead/downed guardsman and take action (help or don’t)
• Run into a VII member (this is high risk)
• Investigate/interrogate a survivor

Talley of Guards killed/taken/left behind as messages will be provided post event wrap up.

Rules:

• You must post either 3 posts or 1500 words to be eligible for rewards
• I will be posting again in 72 hours, whether you reply or not.
• There is no post order

Have fun guys!

[Doran]

“They are not the real power”, the Mortalborn coldly spoke as he continued to work on the fallen guard. “I am.” He moved to cut away the man’s clothes and take his armour off, but even as he reached for him, he realized that it was too late. There was too much blood. The ground around him had turned red. Only the Immortals could have helped him now, but he had found his father’s people to be entirely without mercy. They had been willing to sacrifice thousands on the battlefield in Oscillus and even turned their back on their own flesh and blood.

He briefly looked up as Kherron appeared, but he didn’t react to his words at all. The stranger didn’t seem to be allied with them, but was likely just another mortal that had been awoken by the bells and was trying to make sense of the chaos that surrounded them all. He didn't matter, for now.

He found the guard’s comment about the Eternal Kingdom to be laughable at best. There was no Eternal Kingdom. There was no glorious afterlife in which they all would be reunited with their families. There were only a couple of bickering Immortals that pretended to be just, and only darkness and confusion awaited those whose life had ended. There was no hope, at least not for his kind, those that were of mortal blood.

He didn’t say anything though. Despite everything he would not take away a dying man’s final comfort. Instead he spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, “I will find your squire and bring her back.” He didn’t normally care about the fate of a single woman, in spite of the fact that the Etzori had made him out to be some sort of champion of mortalkind, but he would not allow them to take control. They had no right to this world.

He rose to his feet, swiftly drew his sword and turned away from the fallen guard in order to follow the bloody footprints. He did not look back once. He felt no sadness, and he did not pity the knight. He would have died before long anyway, as all mortals did. They were born and tended to fade away within the blink of an eye. He only felt cold fury, because of what those people had dared to do and claimed to be.

It was obvious that the squire was still alive, at least for the time being. The imprints in the snow told him that the knight’s attackers were dragging somebody, and it was unlikely that they would bother with a corpse. Their trail was sloppy and obvious, as if they didn’t care if anybody was following them. That made him pause, if only for a moment. He had reached a point where few mortals posed a serious challenge, besides, he could not allow them to continue.

In spite of that he moved as quietly as possible, occasionally looking around to check if anybody was nearby and staying as close to the walls of the houses that surrounded him as he could without losing the trail so that they would not notice him too soon. He was not some sort of arrogant fool that rushed towards his enemies and announced his presence long before they could see him, without knowing who he would be facing.

He was so much more than that.

[Xander Andaris]

Xander was sure the man he made chase after was hiding something, after all, guilty men did not run. The noble was not the fastest runner and the other man was outpacing him well, Drakengard aided the man in his flight from the attack. It was just as the father was fearing he would lose the man that he rounded a soft corner to find not one but two men, each armed. A surprise and one he had not expected, he was however prepared for a fight fair or not.

He slide to a stop on the icy cobblestones, boots fighting for grip as he managed to find traction and halt. The wolf's hand flew to the hilt of his sword and as the two men seemed to toy over the idea of mutilating him and the amusement in their tone sickened Xander as his he drew the longsword. The sound ringing in the street as the steel glistened in the soft lighting. Xander's hands joined together on the leather grip as he let it drop forward into a fools guard.

Xander seemed open, inviting them to attack as if he were but a foolish man with no real skill. Of course that were not the case, he was a formidable opponent and not one to be taken lightly. His knowledge of the men in front of him was of course limited, so their skill was unknown for now but as they had attacked in the night and likely in ambushes and assassinations he would not be surprised to find them not the most talented individuals.

He tried to channel the appearance of a frightened man as if their words and the addition of a second enemy had spooked him. This was a further attempt to bring them into a false sense of security, hoping it would bring on foolish attacks. He took the time to quickly scan over their attire too looking for armour and any plates he would need to avoid. Finally he memorised the face he could see the scar and the cruel smile, he would remember that face should the man escape although Xander did not intend for either of those men to leave tonight.

He made sure to move back when they moved forward keeping them both in front of him, he did not want to open up his flank to them especially under armoured as he was. He kept them both in view ready for either or potentially both to attack, the axe his biggest concern a weapon he had little experience fighting against yet one he imagined he could deal with as long as he avoided it cruel looking head.

[Torqin]

Torqin watched with genuine admiration for Lady Celeste as she showed compassion and caring for this man. It was not a nicety, not a lie for his benefit. She truly cared. She may have grown up into a beautiful woman, but that aspect he'd seen within her all those years ago still shone true. She truly was the proper leader of her people. His heart grew fonder for her in that moment, so thankful that the toxicity of her family and the years passing hadn't turned her into something lesser. She was just as perfect as he'd remembered her.

And so, as she gave the order to put Reggie's corpse into the carriage, he obeyed immediately and without question. He was glad to do her bidding. Until. Until she'd said his name. He froze, not having expected her to recognize him. She'd been young, as had he. He'd grown, changed so much. He'd wanted to tell her himself ever since he'd returned, but never knew how to go about it. And now it seemed it was not needed. She remembered him. He'd never been so thrilled and so scared at the same time. Butterflies fluttered about in his stomach, as his mouth curled into an awkward smile. He nodded slightly, "Aye, my lady. It's me, Torqin. I'm back."

He wished to do more. To say more. But had been caught off guard. He wasn't ready for this. And in all honesty, doubted he ever would've been. So he continued to follow her orders, staying knelt but getting one foot beneath himself. He scooped the man up in his arms and rose up to a full stand, and set him inside the carriage, laying him across one of the benches, and adjusting the cloak to better cover him up. Give him the dignity in death. That was when Carlton gave warning that they'd been spotted.

There was no time to relish this reunion. Torqin immediately went into defensive mode. He stepped from the carriage, and readied his shield first, standing between Celeste and the nearest building, eyes scanning the roofs and alleys. "My lady, please, get in the carriage. We need to get to cover. We are too exposed here." He didn't say it, but he knew that in order to protect her, they had to abandon Xander. Hopefully the man would be fine on his own. Torqin's mind thought back to his youth, back to when he visited his mum in Drakengard often, trying to decide where the safest place would be to go with a carriage and his charge.

Only one came to mind, the place he'd known best. The shield shop his mum worked at. It would be closed now, but he knew where the secret key had been hidden, at least eleven arcs ago. It was a known ground. The yard was sheltered enough to stash the carriage, and the building enough of a known factor to be safer, in his mind. His ears picked up the sound of steel on steel. And then a laugh carried out over the soft breeze. Whatever was happening, it was far too dangerous. People out there were dying. Fighting for their lives. But none of that, none of them mattered to Torqin. Only Celeste mattered.

"We have to go. Now." It wasn't like him to give orders to a noble, especially her of all people. But this was a dire time. He would accept the punishments later. They'd be well deserved. As long as she was alive, what happened to him didn't matter. He continued to tower protectively over the baroness, as he saw a shadowy figure on the roof overhead. It moved slightly, and then the faintest glint of steel in torch light. He immediately crouched, turning his armored body to cover one side of Celeste, holding his shield out to cover another. He felt the knife clang off the shield, having been aimed at Celeste.

"Carlton, go, now!"

Torqin continued to provide cover, for Celeste to get into the carriage safely, to close the door behind her. The carriage lurched forward. Torqin quickly grabbed the thrown knife, and then reached up, grabbing the back hand holds that were reserved when a carriage needed to carry multiple servants in addition to the drivers. He pulled himself up onto the back, held on, as he continued to scan the area, looking for more threats. He stabbed the knife into the top of the wood in the carriage, for being heavily armored meant no pockets or pouches. Maybe it would have markings he could later use to track down whoever was doing this.

"Carlton, Lefty's Shields, with haste!"

It was a quick jaunt, and it seemed Carlton knew the way. Upon arriving at front, Torqin could see that it looked exactly the same as before. "Pull around back, hide the carriage." The driver complied, and once they were there, Torqin grabbed the knife once more, then hopped around, opening the door. The training yard was large enough that no buildings were near enough to attack from, and being a business shut down for the night, he doubted there would be any of the assailants here, especially if they were busy dealing with the various city guards.

But still, Torqin put himself between the shop and Celeste, shield always at the ready.

"Carlton, at the back door there, there's a shield. Pull it off the door. Tucked into the grip there's a key to the door."

The driver was more than happy to be getting out of the open and rushed to the door, and within moments, it was unlocked. "My lady, let's get inside. We'll be safe here." He led the way to the door, as Carlton dipped inside, his torch lighting the way. "Upstairs Carlton. Around to your right." Torqin didn't have time to appreciate the nostalgia of being here, nor most certainly being here with Celeste. But at least they were safe, at least she was safe. And soon, they were upstairs, in the training room for customers. It had cushions and chairs and such for resting upon, one of which Carlton readily took up, the torch dangling loosely in his grip.

Torqin walked to the windows on the front of the building, looking out over the snowy town under the moonslight. How many people were dying out there tonight? Too many, he was sure of it. Turning back to face lady Celeste, wearing the moonlight like a cloak now, Torqin knelt, drawing his club and crossing it over his shield as he bowed his head to it, before her. This was the moment he'd been waiting for, waiting for arcs now. Staring at the floor in his show of subservience, "My lady Celeste, of House Andaris, I pledge my life to yours. I pledge to protect you with every breath I take. I pledge that every action I make will be to your benefit. I pledge my shield, my club, my mind, my heart, and my soul. You gave my life back to me. I ask that you now let me put it to the best of use. To be your personal knight. To protect you from threats foreign and domestic. My life is yours." And there he stayed bowed, until she released him, with acceptance or rejection. He steeled his heart, that which was racing in his chest, as he waited, hoping for the best, prepared for the worst.

Note

/viewtopic.php ... 035#p68406 link to where I describe Lefty's Shields. I will write it up sometime too, offically