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

[lost prophet]

Eruwin

"A worthless kill indeed, so worthless infact that I managed to evade them for almost an hour, however each to there own opinion and I admit that I do not own anything valuable enough to warrant an attack. I have no idea who these bandits are nor do I know what there reason for being here is, all I now is that they attacked me and I do not take kindly to people trying to procure me as a personal pin cushion"

[Calaethis Dragonsbane]

Detheriel, Isokla and Nivram

Having discussed the matter with Detheriel, and letting him in on the secret he had learnt had taken a great burden off Nivram. And while the absence of alcohol in the coming hours was most likely going to be a painful process of fighting his addiction, in the end something positive might even help. Only time would tell. For the first time in several years, Nivram was actually optimistic, and as an adept at reading the human psyche he knew that optimism and believing in success, were the first steps in kicking an addiction.

Kicking his wandering thoughts back onto course, Nivram glanced through the bushes to where Isokla was standing. After a curt nod at Detheriel, he brushed away a stray branch from in front of him and started purposefully walking towards Isokla, not hiding in the least that he was walking in her direction.

Isokla! Nivram called out while still about two dozen feet from the suspected killer. "Detheriel and me would like to have a word with you." Try as he might, Nivram could not hide a serious tone from his voice.

"Is that so?" Isokla asked, her own tone deceptively mild. "Very well," she allowed adding with a small smile, "Who am I to deny your lordship his word? Call and I shall come." Maybe she intended her lightness to deflect some of the seriousness at hand - especially given the number of corpses near her feet. Without another word, she rose gracefully, dusted herself down and turned to face Nivram, her eyebrow arching as her bluest eyes met his own squarely. "Lead the way." she intoned politely, gesturing him to obey.

As a light breeze started to pick up, Nivram brushed a rogue strand of his blond hair out of his face. He led Isokla to the same spot where he had spoken to Detheriel just a few minutes earlier.

There was no point in drawing a conversation which was probably going to be long to be even longer, so Nivram went straight to the point.

"You killed Zakaria, didn't you?"

Behind Nivram, Detheriel winced at the directness of the question then looked anxiously at Isokla to see what her reaction would be.

"Did I now?" she asked Nivram quietly, studying his features carefully. "And what gives you that thought? Could it be-" her eyes narrowed, "that you did not pass out from your wounds, but something else instead?"
Her tone had turned chill; calm, but chill. She was speaking cautiously, eyeing him like a watchful cat perhaps cornered - with no telling how she might react. "And suppose I did," she asked quietly, "What would you do about it? Is easing a dying man's suffering a sin, Nivram? When only pain and death awaits, is shortening that so wrong? Is it evil?" she asked him quietly, still watching him, aware of Detheriel but her attention fully upon Nivram. "Would you not do the same?"

His heart hammering, Detheriel tucked his thumb into his belt with a subtle movement designed to place his hand next to his knife. Please don't let me have to use this he prayed fervently to whatever Gods were watching.

"If there was no hope to save a dying man, then indeed I would ease his passing. Now don't get me wrong, there were moments in the last few days when I would have liked to see Zakaria dead myself, but doing it while he was unconscious and defenseless, lying on the ground..." Nivram paused, searching for the right word "I see that as a cowardly way of doing it. Especially if there is still a hope for survival, as there clearly was in his case..."

"There was never any hope for him, Nivram." the young woman replied quietly, "It was the bandit who took his life. I eased his passing, yes. I admit that much, but it was his wounds that slew him - not me." Her eyes narrowed, "Now - how would you - a seemingly untrained healer - know whether he had any hope of survival or not? You who passed out from apparently your own wounds after touching him."

Nivram didn't answer the question, instead replying with one of his own.

"You, as a healer with some training, did you make sure that there was no hope as you eased his passage? If you had, you might just have been surprised."

"You think me a snake, a serpent do you?” Her eyes were piercing, striking at him, "You who I bandaged and tended for. You whom I could have slain a thousand times over. You are not as innocent nor as pure as you would have me believe, Nivram. We all have secrets,” her tone dropped to barely a whisper at the last, and rose to a low, but cutting edge, "If I wished you dead, you would be. I might have slipped more than just herbs into the food I prepared – the food you ate from my hand. You one and all may even now be envenomed with a cure only I know. I could have slain you, slipped a deadly variant of the sedative I gave Zak while you lay comatose within my arms. Consider this – and consider this well, Nivram. I have not struck at you, nor questioned you on your past. I have not interrogated you, no, neither threatened you or any one in this party. I have done nothing but made every effort to heal both you and the poor dead fool that so heroically threw his life away. Never doubt that for a moment.”

It was quite clear from her tone that his words had stung her and she was offended; her professional pride wounded, but there seemed to be something else; some underlying reason that Nivram had not yet uncovered. Whatever it was, this ‘dark secret’, she was not saying – and from her words, she was warning him not to pry, lest she do the same.

Verbal abuse and harsh words were something Nivram was used to having more than his fair share thrown at him. One thing gnawed at him though. Isokla had gotten into a heated mood much too fast.

"Far be it from my current wishes to have you as an enemy Isokla. I greatly appreciate what you have done for this part, and you have my deepest gratitude for healing my wounds. As you said I am not innocent myself, but you were wrong in saying that I did not know this. I am fully aware of my own faults, and try hiding them whenever possible. There are other parts of my personality, or my skills that I also hide."

"I am pretty certain that in the long run our group is better off with Zakaria gone, as given the hostile atmosphere which had sometimes surrounded him, it might have come to blows in the future. What I do not like about the situation though is the way he had left us." Nivram mulled over Isokla's words with which she admitted doing the deed. "I'd have preferred that once he had recovered he left us of his own free will, or our group's will, still holding his life."
Nivram paused thinking back to the situation just a few minutes ago. He had knelt down next to Zakaria, healed him and then passed out. Or hadn't he? Doubt was slowly seeping into his thoughts, but he wasn't letting it gain the upper hand yet.

"Isokla, both of us have our secrets, and I'm sure you aren't ready to reveal them to me, as I'm not yet fully ready to reveal all of mine to you. I'd just like you to believe me when I say that Zakaria was going to recover from his wounds." Without proof, Nivram doubted that Isokla would readily accept what he was saying, but still she would probably come to her own conclusions about his words. "I am not one to level any accusations at you, Isokla, it's just that from your actions in the last few days, it had seemed strange for you to be the one to end Zakaria's life."

“I am not accountable to you, Nivram. Do you think I like losing patients?” she snapped, her eyes flaring suddenly, “Do you think I enjoy seeing any I’ve tried to heal slip away? Or worse, being forced to ease their passing? Do you think I enjoy seeing life taken, or taking it?” She half turned away, sudden tears in her eyes, clearly more upset than she was willing to show or give credit to. “If you think I enjoy this, you are a fool.” Isokla whispered quietly. “What I did, I had to do – what any healer would have done. You have no right to judge me. Next time, that could be you lying there. Who will you turn to then?”

"I do not doubt your healing abilities Isokla neither your will to do good," Nivram said slowly while thinking over Isokla's words. Was she truly upset or was it a ploy? Even with his expertise at reading people's reactions, he could not decide. Better play it safe then.

"I'm sorry that it seemed to you as though I was judging you. Let me state that I was not judging you Isokla. I was simply seeking clarification to acts which had seemed strange to me at the time."

Nivram paused, glancing at Detheriel who had been an outsider to the conversation so far.

"I know you'd prefer to remain neutral in this matter, therefore I do not ask you to choose sides, but I'd be interested in what your take on the situation is." he said to the brown-haired man.

"I...uh" he began, before being abruptly cut off by Isokla.

“Do not drag him into this, Nivram. You will decide what you will within yourself; choose what you believe. If you believe I murdered him in cold blood, then so be it. If you believe I eased his passing, that he had no hope of survival, then so be it. But you will decide – it might not be today or even tomorrow but you will. You can choose whom to believe, but a healer’s duty is to the living – and to preserving life. Ask yourself if you would trust an assassin within the group – if you believe me to be one, then strike me down now just as you believe I did with Zakaria.

“If you believe me an assassin, then take my life.”

She locked her eyes on his, calmly waiting - the calm before the storm, perhaps? Or simply the eye of the storm?

Detheriel let out a small rumble of discontent at the direction this was taking. "That's enough, Isokla" he said gently, laying a hand upon her shoulder. "We will not fall upon each other like a pack of wolves, I will not permit it." He was well aware he had little authority to command anyone, but was genuinely worried at how Isokla was being affected by this - her outbursts and posturing were utterly alien to the Isokla he thought he knew.

If Nivram had heard what Detheriel had just said, he didn't show any sign of it

"The world isn't only black and white Isokla. There aren't only those two possibilities." If Nivram hated something it was being forced to make a choice between choices he did not like. "I believe you did what you thought was right and the most humane at the time, but that your decision was still wrong." If Nivram had wanted Detheriel's opinion just a few moments ago, he did not seem to pay heed to him now. "As to whom I can trust...you ask a very pertinent question. Given how much we know each other in the group can anyone be trusted? Was Zakaria to be trusted? Is Detheriel to be trusted? Are you to be trusted? And indeed am I to be trusted? Should we place our trust into people we barely even know? Or should we start trying to get to know each other better. Just now, I tried to get to know you better Isokla, and I have learnt quite a few things about you, but I must admit, there still isn't a single person in the group I could fully put my trust in, and that even includes me."

Isokla lowered her eyes, “I thought you trusted me, Nivram." she answered quietly, “Maybe you are right, I am willing to admit that, but what is done is done." she sounded calmer now, but whether she truly was, was anyone's guess. “If you would visit your 'justice' on me, do so now. Otherwise, let this matter drop. I have gone from preparing breakfast for you all to seeing a multiple of people cut down, and having to ease our own companion's life through to death's door because the fool chose to throw his life away - only to have you - who I thought I could call a 'friend' - accuse me of being a murderer."

She sighed quietly and looked up at Detheriel gratefully, “Thank you, but I... this is unnecessary. I can handle this on my own. I don't need you to step in every time someone disagrees with me." she smiled faintly, “Even if I appreciate it."

Turning back to Nivram, she asked quietly, “So do you or do you not have healing skills you have denied informing us of."
The young woman did not shrug Detheriel's hand off her shoulder, but seemed to almost curl up into it, accepting it with a quiet grace, taking it as offered.

"I have no right to visit justice upon anyone, nor do I have the faintest wish to do so. And as I had already stated, I did not mean to accuse you, I was simply seeking a clarification. If my words were taken in a way I did not intend them to be taken, then I offer my most sincere apologies."

"I did trust you Isokla, and I think I still do. I think." Nivram mulled over the meaning of the word in this context. "It's just that I saw a side of you, a side which isn't necessarily bad, but a side that I hadn't known of before, and I had to make a reassessment of what was between us, be it friendship or trust."

Nivram paused, thinking over what he had just said. He hadn't reached a conclusion yet himself, but he wasn't going to tell Isokla that.

"As to me having hidden healing skills I have not revealed to the party...yes, I do have them, but I do not feel the need of flaunting such magical abilities as the late Zakarie liked to do with his. I use them if needed, but if they aren't needed then I'll never speak of them. And that is probably my mistake."

"Had you known that I had them you might have approached the Zakaria situation differently."

"Therefore in a way, I myself am responsible for his death."

It was the closest Nivram had ever come to admitting blame for something.

Isokla’s eyes narrowed coldly, “You accuse me of murdering him, yet you yourself possess healing skills and never once lifted a finger to aid any? How many have fallen when you could have helped – how many could you have saved, yet now lie dead due to your secret? Was your precious secret worth so much blood?” She demanded in an infinitely soft tone, “What of Narar, Ansolon & Kagarioni? They fell! Had we been able to dig them free, we may have been able to save them!

The young woman sighed, “Forgive me, I do not mean to judge you. It is just... a lot to take in at once. It has been a... trying day." Whether she believed Nivram or not was open to question.

"There were none to aid before today. After our makeshift group assembled at the bridge you were wounded, but you regained full health astonishingly fast, and I think both of us know that there was no chance that we could get through to those three, into the burning ruins." Nivram did not mention that Isokla also being a healer she could have called on them to dig them free. "And today. Today I did use my powers the best I could, until there was energy left to me, which after holding off the attackers, until the rest of you arrived, was not much. I had hoped that I could save Zakaria..." Nivram left the end of the sentence unspoken as it had been what the rest of their conversation had focused on.

“Maybe.. but I still regret their deaths." She sighed and turned away, “Please.. if you will excuse me… I should like to be alone.”

With that, the young woman turned away, her white dress flowing gracefully as she began to walk, yet her step was dejected as it was heavy; still graceful with her seemingly inborn talent, but the conversation had weighed heavily on her. There was still tears shining in her eyes when she left.

[ 08-01-2006, 06:53 PM: Message edited by: Calaethis Dragonsbane ]

[Ivelliis]

Telryn Gale

Telryn looked down at the young-leader and nodded. Leaning towards the boys ear, he whispered "I would like time to 'talk' to him, sometime soon."

"Got anything to gag him with, then?" Telryn said, his voice booming, "You can have the honours."

Glancing over to Eruwin he said muttered to Ydalon "What about the other one?"

OOC: Short and sweet *wink*

[ 08-19-2006, 12:29 PM: Message edited by: Ivelliis ]

[Legolas]

Ydalon

Drawing one of the silver-hilt daggers from the burned tower, Ydalon stepped towards the bandit. With some cuts and tears he crafted a serviceable gag from the back of the man's shirt, and took the honours.

"If you'd washed your clothes more," he said, from the comfort of his own worn rags, "you'd be left a better taste in your mouth."

He left him there on the ground, returning to Telryn's side.

"As for Eruwin, anyone the Lords have trouble killing is good company. We'll go soon as he feels fit enough to travel. Gather up whatever's useful on the dead please, and get the bandit to his feet. I'll try and get the others ready."

With that, the boy called for Nivram and Detheriel to assist Telryn and break camp, and dashed off after Isokla, a slight smile on his lips at a chance to exhaust himself and leave the site of skirmish behind him.

[Calaethis Dragonsbane]

The bandit struggled no more, but lay limp as his world crashed around him. He could not conceive that moments before, his absolute faith had sustained him since his conversion and he had been seemingly invincible in a invincible band of warriors - his brothers - and the world was at their feet for the taking. Now, he lay captive of the heathens and a sociopathic, cold hearted she-dog (OOC: Anyone know if the PG13 rating includes words like b*tch, does it?) who threatened to sever his manhood! What ill-fate had cursed him? His Lord must have forsaken him! Somehow, he must have failed! With that certain knowledge in mind, he gave way to despair and broke down, staring blanking ahead - awaiting - hoping for - the certain death that would surely follow...

Isokla

It seemed that their intrepid leader had given chase, the girl thought as she took a quick, yet concealed glance over her shoulder through her peripheral vision at the slight sound of Ydalon dashing after her. She did not respond however, but instead continued walking. When they reached the campsite, the girl stopped and spun around.

"Why do you put up with this?” she demanded irritably,
"They are under your command! Lead them! I tire of this! We are achieving nothing here – nothing but corpses. If you would have them throw their lives away, then do so but do not let them squander them on their own. They are foolish children that need leading around by the hand! Pick a destination and let us go to it!”

She sucked in a long breath, calming after her outburst. It seemed she was still affected by whatever it was Nivram had said to her. The words they exchanged had been for their ears only, and yet she could not help but wonder if Ydalon had overheard… she did not pose that question to him – yet.

"What is it you really wish to achieve?” she asked, more quietly this time, far more calmly. "You think a companion’s demise shall bind them more strongly together? It did not the last time. Did you plan this? Did you know there would be these bandits awaiting us here?”

Isokla was obviously still upset, though she showed no sign of it in her crystal clear, blue eyes – only her slightly weary tone, as though all the burdens of the past few days had suddenly crashed down upon her, focusing on a single pinprick, it’s point piercing her deeply. Or so she would have others believe…


[ 09-21-2006, 08:09 PM: Message edited by: Calaethis Dragonsbane ]

[Legolas]

Ydalon

The boy's grin at her words was but a smirk through all his panting.

"What makes you say that," he asked her.
"Zakaria was a talented spellsword, and his missing friend had promise too. They made their own choice to fight or run. The outcome of a fight depends on many things, but how should I control those?"

When his heart calmed from the run, he straightened.

"I said I'd take them across the river, and I have. If they want to tag along now it's their choice too, there's not much we owe eachother. But if it's leading you want, then pack up your things because we're going the moment they're done with their chores."

Ydalon sat down, took a spoon from his sling and helped her clean the porridge bowl.

[Calaethis Dragonsbane]

Isokla

"He was a fool.” Isokla muttered back, but set to work on tidying up the camp as he commanded. Her pack was already gathered together, save for the cooking pots and after a quick wash in the river, they were clean too and soon packed away. Taking a moment beside the river, she sighed and turned back to Ydalon. "Tell me; you did not mourn as he fell? You are relieved that natural selection is weaning the group down until only the strongest survive, aren't you?" Her tone was cold but her eyes were appraising. "You fulfilled your promise - so - where to now, fearless leader?"

[Legolas]

Ydalon

"That sorcerer gave me the creeps," he said, "but I liked the others better alive."

His fingers tugged lightly at the leather string around his neck.

"I won't spend much time mourning strangers, but you're wrong if you think killing makes me happy. Is it the moon or are you that upset?
"You already know I'm going to Talryr. I know a good inn there."

[Ivelliis]

Telryn

Telryn glanced down at the corpses, before letting out a small sigh. He didn't like rummaging through the dead, but one of them might have something that could save a life...

Bending down at the first corpse of the bandit, he started to check through the pockets, finding nothing worthwhile.
"Someone must have picked them clean already," he thought to himself with a shrug.
Walking back to the bandit he picked him up, hoisting him over his shoulder in a firemans-esque carry, and stomped his way through the forest back to the camp.
"Heading back to camp if I'm needed," He said as he left the area of battle.
As he arrived to their camp near the river, Telryn dropped place the bandit on the floor, muttering "And don't move" as he left him there. Telryn checked that all his belongings were ready, just as he left them before he dashed to the battle. Dropping his flail down next to it, he sat and breathed out heavily.

Carron had been a thorn in the Guards side for too long. This couldn't continue, this constant battle for power, and from the situation Telryn was in it didn't look like it was going to for much longer.
"She won't be pleased," Telryn retorted, in an effort to prolong his death.
Carron glared angrily before spitting at Telryn, "You leave her out of it."
"You brought her into this when you picked a fight with the Guards, you expected us to fight fairly when you so obviously do not? Stealing a young boys money to coax me into this trap, how very noble of you," Telryn replied.
"Stealing money? I did no such thing," Carron answered, quickly moving his hand through his long, black hair.
"Bull, and you know it," Telryn said, running out of things to say.
"Well, whatever you believe your time is up, Telryn, Captain of the Guard, farewe-."
In a rush of movement Carron flew forward, narrowly missing Telryn. As the flurry of bodies hit the floor, Telryn could see a hooded figure pinning the fire-mage to the ground.
"Bit of 'elp wouldn't 'urt, ey?" The figure muttered, as Telryn quickly moved to Carron and his saviour. One quick elbow to the head and Carron was out-cold.
"Thankyou..." Telryn said slowly, moving to his sword and placing it in his scabbard.
The figure stood up and removed his cowl. A mess of short, ginger hair covered the head of the man, no the boy, who stood in front of him. No more than late teens, his freckled face had a quite stupid grin on it.
"No worries Tel, I can call you Tel right? Aye, thought so," The figure replied, throwing a small coin purse at Telryn.
"Gi' it back ter tha' boy, and we'll call it squits aye?" He added.
"Erm, ok, but I would like to know your name..." Telryn said, lowering his brow as he looked in confusion at the thief-hero of his.
"Call me Rezah, thanks again," The ginger thief said as he took off at a sprint down the alleyway.
Telryn picked up the unconscious Carron under his arm and walked out of the alleyway. As he guessed, Rezah was no where to be seen, but a flurry of applauding and congratulating greeted him as he handed the coin purse to the boy.

Dropping his flail with a “clang” as it hit his shield, he awoke from his daydream suddenly.
”The others should be back soon,” He muttered, “And then we can finally get moving.”

[ 10-08-2006, 12:47 PM: Message edited by: Ivelliis ]

[Legolas]

The ragtag pack of strangers soon left the fallen behind, and set out on a journey that would lead them to the settlement of Talryr. Far removed from the glorious Capital of Adura, their trek took then through the ancient forests of the untamed Outlands and then onto one of the few dusty roads which, through countless passing feet, maintained at the least some illusion of man's superiority over nature.
But the Outlands were not just home to wild beasts. Wild men, too, gladly roamed where no order troops would go, asserting their rule through might and terror alone. It was from these bandits that the unlikely group had originally fled, and from them that they sought sanctuary within the city's wooden walls, as many had before them.

Nestled in a valley not far from the river's course, Talryr was built on wood and clay. Where the woodland had been stripped away, farmers grew their grains on fertile soil, but all too often lost their labour to the ever-hungry Lords of Vision and their brutal thugs. Fish and the fruits of the forest made up most of the people's diets.
Dominating the settlement were a sky-high observatory sleekly built of fired clay, from whence the local magician and apprentices studied the skies and land, and a smaller yet equally imposing keep - provided the observer was a stranger to the grand castles and estates of more civilised climes. A barracks had been constructed beside its entrance, a foundation of clay finised with logs and timber.
It was not a time when the locals took pride in their home, for there was no safety in the region and many young men vanished to join the bandits rather than live in fear of them. But the pallisade was sturdy, and what warriors were there to serve the local ruler had proven enough of a deterrent to keep the town at least intact. For many, life was what it was. Good enough that it doesn't get worse.

When they neared the mouth of Talryr, a pair of ill-groomed, dull-eyed soldiers watching their approach from inside, Ydalon called a halt to share some final words away from other ears.