Fantasy RPG Forum - Standing Trials

There were bandits surrounding the ship, -the same bandits that had been harassing Foster’s this season past- hollering and hooting. Some of them carried torches - but Robin felt, rather than saw, the real culprit - there was someone urging the flames to greater heights, to consume wood without end.

There was a defier among their ranks.

The fires screamed in ecstasy. The flames danced along the wooden planks and cotton masts. They promised charcoal and smoke, gifts to be taken by the sea and sky. They stretched up and up and up, a billowing tower of red and yellow and burning white.

“Fuck,” he swore; the fires weren’t paying attention to him. The ground trembled under their feet. He took a peek at Zipper, who had an expression on her face that was more irritation than horror, as if this would yet another mundane daily annoyance she was forced to deal with. The Etherist wasn’t going to like what he was going to say. She never really did, if he was being honest, but she really, really was going to hate this. “I won’t be able to do anything about the ships. That’s flamekin fire.”

The wind coddled him, a twisting breeze of smoke and salt. It whispered jeers and boos, catching the taunts from the bandits. “I could sink the port,” he offered, shrugging.

“Robin,” Zipper said. There was that slow tone again, that ‘hey kid, let’s think this through’ condescension. “I know you don’t give a shit, but at least try, yeah? Quench the flames.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Just try. I’ll see whether I can pinpoint him when he pushes back.”

“No, you don’t understand,” he sighed, wondering if an explanation was the words. She never bothered to listen. “I can’t go against another defier’s magic.” Also there was the questionable morality of killing the fires, or even trying, but she wasn’t going to want to hear that.

She looked at him like he had just killed an adorable otter; she didn’t have her priorities right too. Men were coming up the docks now, some carried buckets, others carried blades, all of them heading to save the Landing’s beloved ships.

“You can’t do much with water,” she said. “But we have one last chance before the men reach there: burn every last bandit. The survivor will be our defier.”

Robin breathed through his nose. His expression was pained, split between not wanting to listen to Zipper and wanting to watch every part of this rotten sea station under two feet of brackish water. “Fucking fine,” he stepped into the tide.

Ï don’t like this either.” Zipper said. “But it beats letting those men march to their deaths.” He didn’t for a single trill believe that she cared. No, it was probably that ‘presentation’ crap she was always going on about. How the appearance of something made it reality.

“A favor, friend,” Robin reached his hands into the warm jetsam. It sang back in clipped promises, an endless bounty beyond the shore. An endless blue freedom. “Flood the port,” he asked, bringing his hands to his left, his ether rooting from his legs into his feet into the sea. The water rippled in response, eager to please and hungry, lifting itself over the wooden docks, a huge wave splashing over the bandits.

Except for one.

“Zipper, stop!” Robin cried, the winds spiraling from the sky. They screeched with stormed rage and begged for his ether. “You’re just making this worse,” he yelled, his magic flooding into the air around him. He breathed in, closing his eyes, and pressed his foot into the ground. The stone and soil collapsed into sand.

She was ready for it this time. She pushed right back at him, hardening the soil before her boot would have sunk in.

“Stark,” she said, her voice dangerous. “This is a really bad time for shitty inter-discipline loyalty to take root.”

“He won’t run from me,” Robin countered before he sprinted off towards the other defier.

“Our current situation says otherwise.”

A blaze erupted around them. It burned at the sand, coaxing it into clear glass. It howled, angry, protective, and hungry. Robin stared at Zipper, his eyes white-wide. “He knows this won’t kill me,” he said, backing out through the flames. “Let me talk to him.”

“You’re asking for trust? You?”

“I’m telling you,” he whispered, the fire laughing, shrill and loud.

This clearly did not satisfy her, but she seemed to relent a bit. “I want him alive and talking. I’ll cut him off from the other end. Go.”

Robin nodded, and leaving her to the fire.

“Hey Robin.” she said, her words slightly muffled by the crackle of raging fire.

“Yeah?”

“You’ve been alright. Don’t screw this up.”

He splashed into the sand, the earth rippling around where he’d been. The darkness welcomed him, a careful embrace, warm and comforting. It whispered, cracks and glow calling him from the below. The under shook in delight, reminding him of the deep safety.

He pushed against the urge to stay. Robin kicked his feet, against the pressure, the world bringing him back to the surface. Bringing Robin to him.

His hand broke through the crust, blind and reaching. Robin grabbed a limb, a leg, and pulled. His other arm reached through, catching the other leg. Something fell. Robin’s head and neck breached, his legs pushing against the dark, forward, and he tumbled, still holding the other man.

Then his hood fell.

A woman. Blonde and young, a scar over her right eye. She yelled at him, in the same fucking foreign language Zipper was always screaming at him. “Fuck, looks like Zipper is gunna have to help after all?”

She spat out a word that he had heard Zipper used a lot. Which probably meant it was a slur.

“I’m on your fucking side you --,” and she spat at him. A fat loogie slung right at his face. “I fucking stood up for you, you piece of shi --.” She kicked out at him in fury till he could not bear to hold her anymore, scrambled to her feet, stumbled a little, then continued to run.

“Mother…,” he sighed, pushing himself off the ground. The earth was resigned to watch. He rolled his eyes, praying to any which immortal that Zipper was still stuck in the fire wheel and wasn’t watching the shit show he’d entered.

Robin jumped at her, tackling her with all his weight. She slipped out of his grasp, pushing at his face with fingers and nails. She cried out as he grabbed her ankle. “Listen, blondie, I’m --,” she twisted her body, her free foot meeting his hand -- painfully. “Immortals, dammit, don’t any of you backwater fucks understand --,” he grimaced, catching her other leg as she tried for a second kick, “common?”

She responded with a third kick.

She never got to a fourth.

As she turned her head up and tried to right herself again, all she saw was a certain Zipper-owned boot rising up and smashing down on her face.

“You’re okay, Stark.” she said. “You’re okay.”

He stared at the people alone on the docks. They huddled together, angry together, crying together. Robin decided they were alone, really. They didn’t know the quiet orchestra of a ocean sunset. The whispers of the crackling fire and the careful tremors of earth. The wind had brought him so much, words and seasons, and he knew them all. They were all empty and their isolation would kill them, like Karem promised.

He smiled at Zipper, quick and fleeting. He wouldn’t forget how easily she’d stolen the four from the blonde. He couldn’t forget how easily, with a touch, she’d burned his spark deaf and mute. She couldn’t know how they mistrusted her. How the wind and the earth conspired against her.

He wouldn’t leave her alone with the defier. Robin knew that Zipper wouldn't hold to her promises if he left the two alone. She would strip her completely of her magic, of her connection, and leave her dead to the elements. They would cry for their loss. He'd felt that loss, that separation, the sudden loneliness. Karem had warned against it. That much he could promise the four.

“You miss Ne’hear?” she asked, strangely curious.

“Treth,” Robin said, “Ne’hear was a nice place, but it isn’t where I grew up. I’ve been having dreams about it, recently.” he smiled. It had been so long since he'd been home. He thought of Felicia. He thought of the dream with the light that and the farmhouse. He thought of chasing it throught the fields. He wondered if it was real.

“I miss Etzos. I’ve been out of the city once before this, and I’ve never missed Etzos this much.” She said.

“Where’d you go, before?” He asked.

“Rharne. Long story.” She said.

“When you were in the army?” He asked.

“Further back. Seeker initiate. Another long story.” She said.

She had something of a life, for sure. She had a life. Perhaps one day she would let him know about it.