Antagonist's Anarchy: Desolation in the Daylight - Chapter II (Open)

[shamrock_uk]

Detheriel

Through the anger and rage, Detheriel gradually became aware that the guard was no longer struggling and picked himself slowly off the floor, still shaking a little with emotion.

He looked down at his fists and was faced with the unpleasant realisation that he did not like what he saw. Never before had he lost himself like this, never had he been enslaved by his emotions to such an extent.

He took a shuddering breath and forced himself to regain control. He looked around at Telryn and winced in sympathy as he saw the bolt jutting from his chest, as if proud of the damage it had caused.

It was then that he saw Nivram being carried into the room.

He couldn't help himself but he retched immediately, his mouth filling with the acrid taste of bile as he beheld the desecration of Nivram's body. He choked it back, desperate that he wouldn't make his horror at the man's appearance plain for all to see.

When the brave man smiled at his friends, it was as if someone had driven a stake through his gut. Oh, what he was responsible for! Somehow the lack of accusation in Nivram's eyes only magnified the acute guilt that he felt until he could face his companion no more.

He looked around and saw the captain's questioning glance.
"Finish it. End it now," he instructed bitterly.

As Nivram drew close he was ashamed to find that he could not bring himself to meet the man's tired gaze. "I'll find our equipment" he muttered to the floor and quickly fled the passageway.

Once safely around a few corners he stopped and flung his back against a wall, breathing heavily, trying desperately to cope with what he had seen.

It was at times like this that he wished he had the battle experience of a grizzled soldier like Telryn. It was not that Detheriel hadn't been in battles nor seen his share of violence, but those had all been far removed from recent events. Fighting bandits or other foes in the countryside was a matter of a well-placed arrow here, a swift dagger there, followed by a retreat into the concealement afforded him by the countryside.

Here he was witness to the full horror and casual brutality that the human soul was capable of. There were no winners, there was nowhere he could escape to, there was only the unimaginable suffering that Nivram was enduring and that he was responsible for.

[DrowArchmage]

Jason was growing impatient with standing around and could slowly feel his reason slipping, he did hope he didnt do anything stupid, but being confined for long often made him a stupid man.

Excuse me my dear man, jason tried to smile but it slumped into a frown. Would you mind telling me what your master plan is before i decide that you really have no plan and have merely lost your sanity?

He studied the man on the floor, he stared hard and long, the face looked familiar, yet the voice and accent were odd. He mumbled something about faces blurring together and stood, stretching.

Think fast of get off your arse and help me knock down this godsdamned door will you?

He couldnt keep anger from his voice that time. He took a deep breath of the stale air and tried to calm himself.

[Calaethis Dragonsbane]

Isokla’s search led her outside. In truth, she wished for some time to think and to experience the morn’s fresh air. If the air in such a place could be called fresh. The girl wrinkled her nose in distaste; ‘Ugh, this town is filth. There are times I miss home. At least there everything was clean.’ she sighed; she would have to make do and really, just after dawn was her favourite time to think, that, and the still of the night. So, she found herself outside and walking down a street. Her musings filled her mind and she did not realise where she was; in one of the narrow back alley streets; the sort that no reputable girl ever found herself in, and never alone.

The stars had continued to fall and the people were in a fright. Like rising floodwaters driving all the rats from their holes, the towns few thugs had emerged. Rough, callous, ill-mannered brutes ruled their temperament, and it was a trio of ruffians that crossed Isokla’s path. Unsettled by the presence of the falling stars, superstition ruled the day and the sight of anyone so composed, let alone a young woman, was enough to anger them. That, and the fact the townsfolk were calling for a sacrifice. A young woman, garbed in a dress light in colour; blue in eye, silver in hair and fair of skin? Obviously an outlander – she was perfect.

As it so happened, Isokla turned down an even narrower alleyway; she subconsciously sought the river or as close to it as she could get and her sense of direction told her that this was the fastest way to the town gates. Had she been truly paying attention, she would have realised that it was not actually a street at all, but a shop – a warehouse – that was long, narrow, and held two sliding doors at either end. Both had been open, and so it was that the three thugs stepped in and closed the door behind them with a slam.

Wide eyed, the girl spun around. Inwardly, her mask of shock could not have been more wrong. ‘What now?!’ she thought irritably. Something akin to a vicious smile touched her mind’s eye but outwardly, she gasped. ‘Wonderful.’

The other door, now behind her, also slammed shut. A youth, no more than twenty turned a key in its lock and jerked his chin to indicate those behind her. Isokla did not turn, but she heard their words clearly…

“Well boys, look what we have ‘ere.”
“All alone in this part of town.”
“To proud ta look at us? I’d be scared too, lass. They’re calling for a sacrifice outside.”
“Ye goin’ ta com’ quietly with us.”
“Aye, but she’s all alone boys.” the louded laughed coarsely. “What say–”

He never finished his words. All he, and his two companions witnessed as their last breath was a glint of steel as the woman whirled – more calmly than any woman had a right to be under such circumstances – and a flash. A hollow ‘thunk’ rang through the warehouse, followed by a dull thud, as one after another, the trio of corpses struck the floor. Isokla had already whirled back around and met the youth’s eyes coldly. “Leave.” she spoke softly as she rounded on him.
Raising his club in fear, he stammered “ You... you witch!”

‘I warned you,’ A slight smile twitched at her lips, “Come now, I am unarmed. Will you really threaten a lady?”
“You… you killed them in cold blood!”
“With what?” her eyes widened, “Do I look like I carry weapons?”
“Then with magic!”
“You would have heard if I had incanted and wove the Art.”
“You’re lying! Men like that don’t just die!”
“Then inspect them.” she offered quietly, “I am of no danger to you.” Isokla stared at the ground, “They… they’d have torn me to shreds…”
“You’re lying!” he repeated, snarling at her and raising his club.
“You are too young for this, child. You’re not prepared to kill anyone, are you?” She stood tall, regal and errect as she stared him down proudly, “But come, prove me wrong and take your prize. Or are you not ‘man’ enough? Choose quickly; I tire of this.”
“You bit-!” he looked as though she had slapped him in the face, “I… I’ll kill you!”
‘Fool.’

He charged towards her swinging his club wildly. Almost disdainfully, Isokla stepped aside and pivoted. As he rushed past her, in a single, smooth action pulled loose one of her hair pins and plunged it through the back of his neck. Piercing the nerve, he shuddered once and collasped. Gracefully, the woman knelt beside him and murmured, “I’m growing rusty.” He gasped as she pulled the eight inch long pin from his neck. The action was like a whiplash; had he blinked, he’d have missed it. “You know,” she told as he lay there dying, “Back home, we call these ‘dagger pins’; do you want to know why? You see the top of it; it is flat. It can be held neatly between thumb and forefinger; thrown, stabbed – it can even cut and slash throats or eyes. Very versatile.” she sniffed approvingly, “You have another moment or so left, I think. Now, these pins can be placed in bracelets, in the hair, even in clothing, not to mention boots. I decided that I would save it for you; you should be honoured. It has been too long.” She rose, cleaned off the ‘dagger pin’ and placed it back in its sheath in her hair. She was careful of its side; it held an edge a razor would envy. Throughout this, her voice had been calm, composed; as though she were addressing a slow student, “Now, I had warned you you were not ready to kill, but you would not listen. You have no one to blame but yourself.”

Isokla stepped in front of him, “It’s a pity really, such a waste. I doubt you’ve even had your first kiss, have you?”
Weakly, he shook his head; already his vision was clouding over.
“Well, I suppose a kiss is the least I can do. After all, you cannot move.” The young woman leant down and pressed her lips to his. When she rose, he no longer twitched. “Fool,” Isokla sighed, her eyes coldly scanning the room. “How many more must I suffer before Fate stops taunting me?”

She retrieved her blades from the trio’s throats and carefully cleaned them.

Later on, (a few moments), people would believe that a star rock struck the warehouse and incinerated the building. They would never know it was actually torched by a young woman’s hands.

~~~

Isokla continued into the street, slipping away. She had had enough of her walk and towards the temple. It was time to pay her ‘respects’ to the Master.

[Legolas]

Ydalon

The grin was shattered as the first rock struck just over a street away, sending a plume of dust into the air. The ground shook, nearly throwing him off his feet. Seven years of bad fortune in the making. But the boy stood firm.
Above him, still more objects streaked down through the skies, and crashed into the clay and wood structures of Talryr. Ydalon ducked into a crouch, his arms over his head in a useless gesture of protection as he waited for the destruction to pass. Something warm and wet dribbled down his left leg, but he counted the heartbeats between impact and at long last dared to look about. Most of the city still stood, despite the frightening attack.
Chilling, he limped down the street, joining others as they emerged from their doorways. A crowd had already formed, that street and a half away, around what had once been the local temple; a place of fear dedicated to the bloody rebirth of a nation, where men prayed for the stars to tarry. Or, more recently, for the Lords' 'salvation' to destroy the capital. It was an omen in truth, but as he pushed forward towards the ruins, he wondered at its interpretation.

A wizened old man was picking through the rubble with deliberate care, his robe of bleached wool suggesting he had only just left his bed. Identifying him as the local astronomer wizard, the boy altered his assumption. The man had been about to rest.
Tightening his trousers, Ydalon approached to help him in his search.

[ 05-13-2007, 11:13 AM: Message edited by: Legolas ]

[Calaethis Dragonsbane]

…Meanwhile…

The town was hit by more of the falling stars. Buildings collapsed; people screamed, children cried, women wept, and all around there was chaos. The warehouses in the district Isokla was in went up in smoke and flames took over. Grain and fiery falling stars generally tend to combust.

The prison was not quite as fortunate as the temple. While the temple only suffered structural damage, it still stood – more or less. Not so with the prison.

For Jason, he felt the entire building shake and saw daylight… as the cell beside him shattered, its wall broken into fragments.

It was perhaps even more unfortunate, that the cell above, below and to the far side of him also suffered similar fates, as though some deity of the skies (OOC: although no gods technically exist in this setting) had picked up a handful of pebbles and thrown them randomly at a sandcastle. It was perhaps even more unfortunate that he heard one of the guards yell at that point, “The prisoners are escaping! Kill them all!”

Unfortunate in the extreme. Everyone seemed to be rioting en masse, while he was still locked in his cell.

However, a faint ray of hope existed; the cell above him had had its wall blown out by the star-stone, and it cut through the floor (the roof to Jason’s cell) at an angle and broke the door of Jason’s cell. If Fate had smiled on him, it spat at him next, for two guards rushed down the corridor, saw the broken cell door and charged at Jason and the old man…

Both were in leather uniforms, both wielded swords – and both looked likely to kill them both without a second thought. They were in their prime; late twenties, early thirties – and Jason had no weapons.

[dplax]

Nivram

Nivram lived in a world of pain. No sounds reached his ears only a dull buzz, permeated the fog in his mind. His eyes, when he managed to open them more than a tiny slit, saw only blurred shapes, none of them bearing a semblance to anything he had over seen. He kept swimming in and out of consciousness, but felt absolutely no difference between the two states, except the absence of pain when consciousness eluded him.

When conscious, he mumbled half-constructed syllables and weak sentences, but nothing came out coherently.

Waves of white light kept washing over Nivram, the origin of which he could not understand. The feeling was a pleasant one, almost as if gentle hands were caressing his whole body.

Sound was the first to return. Between two bouts of unconsciousness, soft, gentle voices penetrated the fog on Nivram's mind. The voices seemed to be chanting in a language, not familiar to Nivram.

The pain returned with a sudden viciousness as it threatened to swamp over Nivram and then it disappeared almost as suddenly as it had come. The voices stopped and Nivram slowly opened his eyes.

He had to blink several times. After spending almost sixteen hours in a state close to blindness, the light hurt his eyes more than the pain of his torture had.

[dplax]

Nivram

Red-robed figures were huddled over him. Strands of golden fabric were interwoven among their garments. From the suggestive forms underneath the robes, at least three of the four figures were female.

"He's awake." It was one of the females talking. Nivram could not yet make out the faces, his eyes still had trouble focusing. And then everything cleared up and swam into view. All four of the figures were female, but one of them still looked to be in her teenage years, thus the different form under her robes.

"That was a pretty difficult healing process, my dear, but you'll see in three-four years time, you'll be able to do it without a problem. Now, run along and get back to your language studies, I'll be along shortly." The oldest and wisest looking of the four women, spoke to the youngest of them, who promptly bowed to Nivram, turned and bowed in th other direction and left the room.

The room had rich decorations and the bed Nivram was lying on was more comfortable than anything he had ever slept on. It definitely did not look like the pure and simple places of healing Nivram had seen during his travels.

"You and your companion are in the house of the Lord of this city. Our own facilities are unfortunately badly damaged following today's events," came the explanation almost as though Nivram's thoughts had been guessed.

His location had not been the most surprising of what had been revealed to Nivram in that sentence. The word companion caused Nivram to whirl to the side. Surely, there where the younger novice had bowed after bowing to him, lay Telryn on an equally comfortable looking bed. The shaft of a crossbow bolt still stuck out of Telryn's shoulder, but another priestess was already tending to him, murmuring softly under her breath.

Nivram smiled towards Telryn and then turned back to the old woman. "Thank you," he said weakly, attempting a smile.

"You should keep your thanks for the Lord of this town. He requested our healing services for the two of you. He shall be along shortly, he was just waiting for you to wake up. Now if you'll excuse me I have other business to attend to." The oldest of the foour and another of her companions bowed in a similar manner to Nivram and then to Telryn and left.

The priestess, a blonde, looking to be in her early twenties, smiled at Nivram. "Are you still in pain? If you have physical pain in any part of your body, I can help heal that." Nivram gestured to his knee, which still was hurting. The priestess bent down and started massaging a viscous oil on the knee, while chanting in the same unknown language that Nivram had heard while drifting in and out of consciousness some time ago.

He turned to face Telryn.

"What happened since we got seperated? How did you get wounded?"

[Ivelliis]

Telryn

At Nivram's words Telryn tried to sit up. The bolt, still lodged in his shoulder, felt sore as he raised his body, and eventually he gave up. Turning his head to face Nivram, he started to tell the story from when they were led to the prison cell.

"...And I'm not sure how much you know, but Lord Gardon let us out, and we came to look for you, me and Detheriel. All we found is the captain and the warden, with a mean crossbow."

He let off a slight grin; "He got a bit lucky."

"Dunno what happened to that bandit though, after the prison got hit by that storm thing we made a hasty exit, so say the least. Last I remember of him he got locked up in a cell near us."

"Wondering what she's gonna do 'bout this though."

He lift his arm, stroking the bolt with his right hand as if it were some sort of trophy.

"Should be fun," He added with a wink.

"You're looking a lot better than before, mind. Them priestess's seemed to do a pretty good job, even the young 'un. How you holding up?"

[ 05-14-2007, 04:36 PM: Message edited by: Ivelliis ]

[Legolas]

Ydalon

Scurrying about through the ruins of the temple, it took him no more than a few minutes to locate one of the strangely alien stones which had descended. The boy paused a few moments to examine his find, then sprinted back to the wizard who was still busy searching.
With most of the temple walls levelled and a fearful and bloodthirsty crowd gathered in a dense circle around the remains of the structure, there was no way for anyone to hear the brief words the pair exchanged before Ydalon leapt to the top of a taller pile of rubble and raised his voice.

"People of Talryr," he began. "Know no fear!
"I have travelled long and far, arriving just yesterday to witness these events!
"Know that the heavens hold no threat to you, the true and faithful who have long ago seen what cannot be denied. Let me tell you of the Master's will, for I have been sent to free you!"

Ydalon raised his arms above his head, the tiny stone visible in one of the hands.

"This was no random destruction! The temple, the very one you see before you, the very one on which I stand, IS no temple! It is a House of the Unfaithful, who have for many years overcharged you to fill their coffers, who have ignored you who were of no use to them, and who have preached. How they have preached! The men and women of this temple have lied to you, time and again, they have spread false words in the Master's name! The true and faithful have known this!
"And today, the Master has voiced His displeasure! Yes, with this very starchunk he has put an End to their lies and You have been freed."

He looked around.

"But he struck not only this temple. Other buildings were damaged. Do you know why!?
"Because they, too, belong to the unfaithful! The executioner's shack! The potter's warehouse! Even the prison of your leader, and of him you should beware the most. For if you leave him to work his ills, they will echo throughout fair Talryr! They will call down the full wrath of the Master, and all that you know will cease to be. Of this I warn you."

"But before you turn your rage on the Unfaithful, the ones who would risk the town you built with your own hands, your sweat and blood and love, before that, know that you are not alone. There are those here whom the Master dearly loves, the True Master, not the perverted, twisted one these self-proclaimed priests peached of to fatten their bellies and decorate themselves in fineries like common thugs with gilded earrings.
"Let me tell you of the Prisoners! Men and women locked away, but not for their crimes! Nay, many were held for a far more sinister purpose. They were held because they knew the Truth. Because they would Speak the truth! Because their words would reveal what the good and faithful people here already knew. Know that they too are freed, now, to walk amongst you. And last, but by no means least, the man here beside me!
"This is a man who spent years looking to the heavens for his freedom. A man who gazed up when the starchunks fell. A man who could have given all of you warning, for he knew what was coming. His devotion, his silence, let it be proof to all you good people that this cleansing, dedicated to all those I see before me, that this occurred to answer his prayers, that he is the first, the foremost True worshipper. To this man you owe all which you have won, and were I in your place, I would be deeply grateful!"

Slowly, Ydalon lowered his arms, which had begun to ache.

"And now I say to you, people of Talryr, know that Now is the time. Now is your chance. Now, today, you can free your town of lies. Free it of falsehood, and those who would rule you, not to serve, but to bleed you of all that is yours!

He hopped down then, and did his best to disappear amidst the people.

[DrowArchmage]

Jason grinned grimly as the men charged, he had not much room to move, yet he thought it would be enough. He glanced toward the old man and shook his head, maybe he would help, most likely not. Get ready. Or if not, then stay back.

He rolled backward and picked up a stone. As he came up from the roll he snapped the rock at the gaurd, hitting him with all force right between the eyes. He dropped to the ground and groaned. The other gaurd stopped short and gave him a queer sort of look, circling as if now weary. Jason knew this one was not as stupid as the other. I dont want to hurt you, but i will. Leave now, take your compainion and go, we shant cause any trouble. He just growled and advanced.Jason pretended to be incanting some sort of spell, waving his hands and muttering, hoping that it would fighten away the gaurd. At first he just looked puzzled, but he started backing away slowly, then turned and ran down the corridoor. Jason turned to the old man and smiled. He picked up the sword and motioned for the geezer to follow. To Freedom!