CH vs Lily Round 1: Amber Eyes & Madison Freebird vs Philomel & Max Dirks

[Tobias Stalt]

Snowy and barren, these ruins in the wastes of Berevar are chiseled by age. Blast marks and shards of ruined rock stand silent testament to a great conflict. An odd energy lingers over this place, reminiscent of time forgotten. Rudimentary scrawling on the walls depict humans doing battle against monstrous entities. The cause of this desolation is made evident in them.

The War of the Tap.

You have 48 hours until battle start, and this round will last for two weeks. No time-frame on daily posts.

[Philomel]

Like the wicked god of ice sending his frozen assassin, frostbite, the cold bit at their exposed skin. Little was exposed, for between them they had enough fur to make a king-sized blanket for a newly wedded couple, but what was suffered, suffered with great animosity. A thick blue cloak was wrapped around most of her body, and it partially covered Veridian as he curled up on the saddle behind her. Upon her hands were velvet and linen gloves and these gripped tight to the thick reigns that controlled their mighty beast mount as they rode through the gates of the ruined town. On her chest was a black shirt, unusually for her covering from neck to waist to wrist, and it was as black as many of the bricks here, shattered and frozen in time.

Uncomfortably, she shivered again, hunching her shoulders as another barbarous blast of the frigid breeze attacked them from the side. All the while the creature beneath them kept trudging, used to this savage weather. For he was a Tera'k as the faunish had it, a Strider in any other tongue. He took the form of a huge powerful hybrid of a goat and musk oxen, his back flatter than the bovine and face stouter than the caprine. Philomel raised her gaze from her hunkered state, looking at the war-stained houses, with their broken roofs and shattered windows, their fallen walls and displaced chimneys. Families used to reside here, families perhaps like hers in her younger days, in those infrequent times when her father had not been subject to his insanity.

With interest, she caught sight of interesting white markings on one of the more ash-soaked walls. As she got closer, she realised it was nothing more than frost. Exposed and clearly wind-beaten, the wall had the ice growing up it as a vine might tangle its way up an aged oak. Beginning from a source at the bottom - a hole which might have once been a drain - the white line expanded upwards and separated into a web-like pattern, like the image of a river basin, or the image of a plant root. Against the black of the stonework it was beautiful and exonerating to the otherwise murderous chill of the north, a moment of pure bliss in this terrible world, as the whore and fox waited for this battle of life-altering chaos to commence.

She pulled the Tera'k to a halt. Softly he lowed, expelling steam from his large nostrils. Leaning over, she rubbed her hands through the grey and black fur of his head, looking something like salt and pepper might on a worktop. The low turned to a mellow hum as she slipped off his back. She took the cloak with her as she landed on the ground, and no sooner had she done so than a moan expelled into the air, a baneful irritated howl. From quite a different animal.

Its cooollllddd.

"You have the capacity to warm yourself up, Veridian," Philomel unsympathetically retorted. "Stop moaning."

Veridian muttered a few times more in their mental link as he rolled over in now all the expanse of the saddle. As he took his time to complain, despite the fact he had remnants of an ancient fire spirit within him, the faun walked over to the patterned wall. A soft smile crept over her face as she gazed in wonder, inspecting in closer intrigue the way the frost tree actually was made up of individual, tiny hair-breadth lines, that were so numerous that from afar they looked as one. Dead end sparks trailed off the main branches, miniscule cul-de-sacs lying exposed as snow white on the charcoal black, the contrast a jagged testament to a savage history. The faun tugged off the glove from her hand, so her fingertip could trace the path of one frostline, travelling from the edge of one brick up to a chipped window ledge, the freeze from it not mattering as the beauty was beyong anything anyone could have imagined ...

Distracted for a moment purely by the frost, she realised suddenly that the wind down here was not so fierce. From atop the Tera'k, from his six foot back, she and Veridian had been subject to the abuse of nature - but down here she was sheltered by the walls. Even though they were broken and cold with time, there was still a sense of what had been a close-knit home here - a protection of sorts, a shelter.

A shelter from the snows, a shelter from the wild, a shelter from this madness that was the apparent war. Oh yes, Philomel had had a long time to consider the war. Many days, many hours, many people in fact to converse with, to negotiate with, to laugh and weep with. Her and her officers, those proud beings that were the closest thing she had to friends, had spoken at length about the initial Crimson Hand threat, the declaration, the fear of the assassin's guild that the Gilded Lily was becoming that just small bit too unpredictable. Feelings, thoughts, speculations - everything and everyone had spun through the faun Matriarch's mind in the last few days, uncertainties and realities, so many different individual pieces and people that swarmed together as one; much like the sprouted, almost cultivated frost on this wall.

It had come to this, this old town in the middle of the Skavian Wilds. After days of sailing and days of travelling, days of shouting, arguing, roaring, Philomel only wanted peace. She only wanted a restpite from the torturous questions and demands she had been subject too. Just a single moment of silence, in this abandoned residence, in this lost home, was desired. Despite the fact that whole journey by herself to here had been purely to come here to meet Maddison Freebird. Perhaps - Philomel hoped she was late. For all she wanted right not was a moment to look at the frost and judge it for its beauty, not for its feared potential or its prowess, but for its singular purpose of particular - its artistry.

Behind her the Tera'k lowed again, before dipping his large head and gently nudging her arm. Suddenly Philomel was distracted from her disordered concerns and emotions, and she turned around, the first smile spreading onto her face in some time ... As if she had spent too long in the company of her closest adviser and only male of The Fiesty Fox crew, Vaeron - he who never tweaked the corner of his mouth, apparently, he claimed, due to a dark and secret past.

However; now she allowed the feeling to rise, now she allowed her lips to curl. Her bare hand that had traced the frost met the velvet nose of the huge beast, loving the heat coming from his skin. As he breathed out she was bathed in a rich warm mist of gentle hay and farm scents, mixed with the happiness of comfort. Ignoring Veridian's continued insistence that he was "cold," she giggled, and turned around to the animal, forgetting for the while that the battle was about to begin, that soon in this town Maddison would appear, ready for little conversation and ample dueling. Ready to challenge Philomel to the death, to ruin her, to demand from her, to hate her, to scream at her.

But all Philomel wanted, was to be right here and right now. To rejoice in this gorgeous and mighty creature's gentle heart, to hold him close and feel wanted. Not a threat to anyone, not spited against, not hated. Not ruined, not condemned, not cursed.

Wanted.

For one more sweet time.

All bunnying approved/allowed.

[Amber Eyes]

There is no easy way to say the words. There is no magic potion or calming drink that can take away the sting. I died. I was poisoned and my throat was slit for good measure. The members of the Crimson Hand had ensured that Kyla Orlouge would never again stand in their way. They had taken the flagship of the Ixians and proven that no one was outside the range of their power. There was only one problem. I was dead, but I was far from gone.

It had taken days to convince Cellar to work her way into the good graces of the Orlouge’s. Under normal circumstances it would have been simple. A Mystic bloodline and a sob story could nearly always ensure a quick acceptance into Sei’s good graces. My father seemed to have taken my death harder than I’d have thought though, his temperament was short, angry, unyieldingly suspicious. As I watched from the shadows that now engulfed my existence I couldn’t help but consider just how different my life could have been had the patriarch of the knights found this side of himself sooner.

Cellar found Sophia’s Mane. I don’t why I am still around despite my death, but I have learned that my favorite weapon has many properties I don’t understand. If the souls of my enemies can be locked inside the confines of the silk opera glove, perhaps it is its power that ties me to this realm. Once the glove was found, my attention turned to the much larger problem. Buried seven feet beneath the palace gardens. There lay my body.

Cellar spend six days creeping to the garden in the evenings. I watched from nearby, powerless to aid with any more than words. She would dig, her tiny arms flexing with each quiet shift of the shovel. Progress was slow. The small girl hardly had the strength to make it through. And yet, each morning she would replace the loose dirt and replant the flowers, only to start again the next evening. The bags under her eyes were a tell-tale sign that she couldn’t keep this up much longer. I had almost lost hope when I heard the blade hit something hard.

I wanted nothing more than to see the coffin pulled from the ground. I could almost feel my heart crying out to me. I was so close. But, as the sun rose against the overcast sky, I knew I would have to wait one more day.

Cellar did her part, she finished the job. The coffin was nearly twice her size, but she fought hard to pull it from the soil. When the lid opened I froze.

My body was broken. I suppose the Ixians had done all they could to ensure my corpse appeared normal, but the puffed cheeks and blue tinged skin gave away the truth. My life had been pulled from my body by force, not nature.

I watched as Cellar slid the opera glove over my left hand. My body lay motionless. I stepped closer and stared hard at all that I once was. My face was swollen and my lips were a strange blue. My skin was starting to gray and my eyes seemed slightly sunken. Yet, here I was. There was the bit of extra weight I’d gained in my midsection from carrying Akiv, not enough to notice unless I sat down, but something I’d often pinched in front of the mirror on my less confident days. There was the tan line on my ankle where my beloved anklet had always snapped. There were the callouses on my fingertips from training hard to fight for the army I had loved. There were the tiny creases by my eyes that developed from the laughter I shared with my sisters and the scar above my right lid from the war for Corone.

As I looked down at all I had been, all I could see was weakness. I slowly lowered my hand and touched the tip of Sophia’s Mane. I held my own hand for a few moments and then felt myself go home.

Once the empty coffin was safely back in the ground I hugged my new friend. Cellar and I had been connected for so long. As children in Drantrak we had played like sisters. I was always the bigger girl. I would rescue her from trolls and wizards that existed only in our minds. Once we were separated we had both lived very different lives. How fitting that now when we were adults she would be the one to save me.

I stared up at the castle windows longingly. My sisters were just inside. I could go in for just a moment. I could hold my sweet son once again. I could touch my father’s face and explain that I understood all that he had said in anger before my death. I could make amends and live so long as the magic of the glove allowed me in peace.

But that was never who I was. No, I had a mission to complete. If my temporary existence lasted minutes or hours or days, they must be spent with purpose.

I needed to find Madison Freebird.

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

Despite not having any real need to, I pulled my cloak tighter around my thin frame. My black arctic leather bodice keeps me comfortable no matter where I find myself, so it's more out of habit than anything else. Fierce winds tore at our garments and bit at our skin as Hyperion and I made our way through the Berevar ruins. We took shelter where we could, huddling behind what remained of the settlement's stone walls as we weaved from building to desecrated building on my little research trip.

The old village had been the scene for one of the many violent battles that took place during the War of the Tap. The Forgotten One Denebriel campaigned in the north, pulling down the frigid and horrible winters from the snowy plateaus of Berevar into Salvar all those many years ago. It was that act that shaped the upper continents into what they are today; frozen hellholes, where not much outside the heartiest of beings and twisted of fantasies can survive.

And yet... Here we were.

To be honest, it was really by choice. I handed over control of the Crimson Hands back to the man who I took it from in the first place. While some (read: most) might say that it was not my wisest move, safeguards were in place to make sure that he didn't go out of line. Specifically, I planted a vine around his heart that I could constrict with merely a thought.

If Lichensith Ulroke gets out of line again, I simply squeeze that most vital of organs and put him out of his, mine, and everybody else's misery.

This whole “conflict” with the Gilded Lily? Some will tell you that it's a test to see where Philomel van der Aart's loyalties truly lie; and that would not be incorrect. As the Master of Secrets, she is privy to a treasure trove of information that could prove dangerous should her lips come loose. As the head of the Gilded Lily, she commands not one but two unique spy networks. I'm pretty sure I don't need to elaborate more why this could be a problem in the future.

But not only is this a test for her, but it is a test for the reinstated Master Hand as well. I need to see if the physical and psychological work that Aurelianus and I performed on him had any lasting effect. I need to see if he is willing to show restraint, his anger focused and honed into an edge instead of a lash that flailed at everything.

If this experiment fails, then... well, let's just say that the enemies of the Crimson Hand won't have to worry about us for much longer.

I'm rambling. Let's get back to the matter at hand.

Why would myself and my plant parasite companion find ourselves deep within the wind-scarred wastes of Berevar, huddled in the ruins of an old settlement that long ago succumbed to Denebriel's attacks? Well, for starters, research purposes. Carved in the walls of what remained of the town were scenes depicting the terrible power that the fallen saint wielded, telling the story of the beasts she gathered to slaughter her enemies while the chill of permanent winter crept south.

I had been hoping that these murals would hold some hint as to where the Forgotten One concentrated her power, much like how Podë had her stronghold within the Red Forest. However, I wasn't having much luck. I would have to copy the inscriptions, return to the Seventh Sanctum, and hope that I could find something that matches up in my library.

The second reason that Hyperion and I made the trek north was to lure Philomel away from the action in the Skavian Wilds, where Lichensith was commanding the majority of the forces. You see, it has come to my knowledge that she is aware of the whereabouts of a man by the name of Max Dirks. While I never actually met the master thief, I was made aware of his activities--specifically, desertion during the Eiskalt War and allying himself with the Icebreaker clan. He gave them information that allowed them to rout us, to ambush us, to defeat us.

While I had pardoned most of those on the to-do list after I ascended to Master Hand, his name always remained on that list. And now that I found myself with a lot more free time...? I figured it would be well-spent hunting him down.

Philomel earns Lichensith's trust by giving me her intel, Lichensith believes that I'm still a good little subordinate, I get to take a little vacation, Max gets to atone for being a dick, and Aurelianus gets a replacement dungeon playmate.

Sounds like a win-win all around to me.

[Philomel]

Sheltered for the moment from the bitterness of the climate, Philomel embraced the Strider, the tera'k, until her body was conforming perfectly to the curve of his. With her arms around his thick neck she had moved to stand beside his front leg, burying herself into his grey and white speckled fur, losing herself to the entirety of what was his massively thick woollen coat. When he twisted to low, she responded with a whispering bleat, a tone from her mother tongue of faunish. With both of them beings hybrids of goats there was little different between them, except the fact he was made for this weather and she was made for killing.

Finally Veridian jumped from his perch where he had been pathetically moaning about the cold. With his soft coat he brushed against her ankle and then sat down to wait quietly as she was astounded by the fluffiness of the animal. Through his flesh and muscle she could feel the thrumming of his mighty heart and was blessed by the warmth of his blood, that which gave him life and let him stride amongst the worst of all ice-made creatures. Though tera'ks were a favourite among the faun kind now for hauling and farming, there was a legend that told of their coming from Berevar, and it did not take Philomel much convincing to believe it. It had just the last week, when her and Vaeron went searching for suitable mounts to take them across the Skavian plains that she had seen this bovine-caprine and declared then and there that her heart was taken. The human grumpy mage had gone for a huge shire horse, but Philomel had splashed out on this beauty who both reminded her of herself and of her people - though in reality her people had never actually done much for her.

He still needed a name, that was certain, and the Matriarch hoped to find one on this adventure. Already the two had formed something of a bond; mistress and mount had been firm in their trust and friendship from the first ride. As she stepped back to release him from her hold, the tera'k snuffed hot breath into the air once more, and Philomel amused herself by blowing it away with pursed lips.

Oh ... Philomel!

His voice was sharp, quick, rough. Exactly the tones of high alert.

Immediately the faun-whore's body entirely tensed, every muscle slipping into a state of firmness and readiness. As she whipped around to face the way that Veridian's senses and her instinct told her to, she dragged out her sword into her right hand with a fluid movement that could have been called 'elegant.' At an almost similar instantaneous moment she began to pour all her sense into the earth, filling the ground of dry dirt and brittle plants here with her awareness, making know of the flora, fauna and layout of the world around them.

She saw the fauna before any form of the supernatural need tell her. White blade in hand, with fox by her side on his eager paws and with the huge grey steed behind her, Philomel faced a lone woman.

From head to toe she was adorned in deep blue and purple robes of a Falleni fashion. They fell around her in long swathes as a waterfall drops off a cliff, perfectly formed and natural. Much of her hair was obscured by a large hood, though it did not hide anything of her true mystery - and that was the mask. Covering everything from temples to chin, it gave even no hint of flesh tone, and shone with a starlight-like brillance that imitated Philomel's sword. The whole thing was carved and modelled to resemble that of a woman of startling and impeccable beauty with unblinking soft blue eyes a long nose and lucious lips ... yet it was empty, unmoving, devoid of any hints of life.

For some the 'face' that this creature possessed could be called 'distrubing,' but for Philomel it gave memory. Veridian pulled back his upper lip to begin a growl at her, but the Matriarch shook her head, and stepped forwards. She smiled when she remembered who this was and why she was here.

"Hyperion," she said softly, facing Maddison Freebird's companion and friend, "Lovely to see you. Now tell me," she spread her sense farther and more powerfully into the ground, keeping on high alert for any sign of sudden attack. "Where is your mistress?"

As one might have easily foreseen, there was no movement in the face. Instead the eerie masked warrior took a swinging step back and to the side, gesturing out with a hand to a new path where the faun, the tera'k and the earth-spirit had not yet been.

"This way," was the quiet reply.

Whether or not Hyperion accepted the title of her relationship with Maddison as 'mistress' was not to be answered. When she moved, Philomel nodded once, and reached back to take up the tera'k's reigns. Veridian, however, was exceedingly on edge. He pattered his paws, swept ash and dust with his tail. Hissing sharply he scuttled around to stand in Philomel's way, narrowing his icterine eyes.

No, do not trust her.

Stopped in her tracks, with the great mount in tow, Philomel frowned before replying to him. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Hyperion waiting, somewhat impatiently and as the faun liked to imagine, confused.

Veridian. Of course you don't. But it is Hyperion, companion to Maddison. She will take us to her.

We came here to fight, not to follow.

Philomel let out an exasperated sigh, No, we came here to talk to Maddy. Now seriously, get out of the way!

This is stupid. His claws dug angrily into the dirt, We cannot trust her.

Veridian, we came here with the purpose to talk to her. At least we can give her that honour. In any case of treachery - well we fight. We've killed her once before.

That was a fluke! he barked.

Fine then, you stay here! I will go by myself. the Matriarch said, rolling her eyes.

Pffft. I am scouting, he decided, arching his chin. If only to defend you for your stupid trust idea.

Fine by me. The faun shrugged.

Stepping to the side she took a wide berth of the fox, and the started the walk down the path Hyperion gestured. With her, the tera'k followed, guided by his soft temprement and his reigns, gentle by spirit and eager to be of assistance when Philomel needed. Veridian barked when she did so, giving a verbal warning, but he let her go. After all, Philomel did have a point. They did arrange to be here because of Maddison, they did agree to meet her here to talk and nothing more. Yes, it would likely lead to battle, yes it may lead to death, but for ease of the facade of 'peace' that Lye was determined apparently to promise, the two real leaders of the two opposing clans had to meet to discuss matters whilst either side's warriors bled.

The earth-spirit watched her go with more fuss, eyeing Hyperion for a last glare as the masked girl took his faun away. Swishing his tail twice more, he blinked his eyes before huffing, and then looked around. He marked out three paths spanning from this point - the one they had first travelled up, the one Philomel was currently travelling away from him down, and a last one, which had a useful dry stone half-collapsed wall which could be used as a point to leap onto roofs from. Veridian took out his claws from the ground, and then leapt and went straight for this. Up and up into the air onto the slates and broken bricks, all above the rest to keep a close eye on his beloved.

[Amber Eyes]

It was not an easy journey. My limbs were stiff. My muscles fought with me each step of the way. Even shadow stepping seemed to take twice as long as usual. Cellar dutifully followed without a word of protest. I tried to keep my eyes forward but often found myself staring at my childhood friend.

Her hair was jet black and fell in loose curls down past her shoulders. Her pale skin and light blue eyes seemed to shine in even the darkest moments. She was not a classic beauty but there was certainly something about her fragile features and her posture that made her hard to miss. She followed her own heart in all things. She chose her own destiny. She was beautiful because she was everything I wasn’t.

Before I returned to my body I spent several weeks watching the world go by without me. My consciousness began twenty six days after my death. There were certainly those who still mourned my passing, my dear sister Ella even kept a journal of the things I would say or do if I were present. Sei’s eyes never once strayed toward the gardens. Mere mention of my name would send him to his chambers with ‘important business’. The tears he let fall there were surely the most heart wrenching thing I’d ever seen. My sisters Emma and Anita held it together as leaders of the army, but there were whispered conversations after dusk, memories of wonderful days spent not being the Daughter’s of the Dragon, but just silly little girls with the world at their fingertips. Those stolen days of no responsibility were far behind them now, but even without a body I could feel my heart race at the thought.

My biological father had not left his home in weeks. Dishes were piled high and his clothes were filthy. Neighbors brought food that sat untouched on the front door until some good citizen decided the flies were bad enough and removed them. Once the pinnacle of the strength of the Mystic race, Niche was but a shell of a man. I had often heard the stories of the days after my mother died, but this was the first time I’d seen someone truly lose the will to live first hand. After a couple days I no longer visited my childhood home.

I spent the extra time watching the members of the Crimson Hand. Lye had lost power soon after my death. The role of leader was seamlessly filled by none other than Madison. It became my goal to find a way to communicate with the human/plant hybrid. I needed to understand what part I played in their silly little game. I also needed to know the truth from Lye. What was the purpose? I would have to play along if I hoped to know the truth. The Crimson Hand had begun another war, though on a much smaller scale than that of Eiskalt. The reasonings did not matter to me, I only needed to prove my worth to get close enough to find my answers.

Perhaps if I could understand the point of my death, I could move on and rejoin my family line in the afterlife.

“Should I go with you?” Cellar’s voice was shaky. The middle of a war was not the place for a gentle soul.

“No.” The sound of my own voice was still alien. “I will go alone. Find a quiet place to rest.”

“Are you sure you’re strong enough?” Cellar’s forehead creased in worry as she spoke. “You’ve only been…”

I laughed.

“What could they possibly do? Kill me?”

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

I turned away from the carvings in the gray stone wall at the sound of two pairs of footsteps crunching against the thin layer of fresh snow.

Looking through the remnants of the archway, I saw Hyperion escorting a very familiar figure. The Master of Secrets and Matriarch of the Gilded Lily, Philomel van der Aart. Her braided purple locks were draped over her shoulders, resting comfortably on a thick blue cloak that the faun had pulled tight around her shivering body. And with all that fur on her body she is still freezing, I mused.

I liked Philomel well enough. I may not have been terribly fond of her... extra-curricular activities; but she was a good spy, handy with the sword, and generally pleasant to be around. However, after some discussion with the newly-reinstated Master Hand Lichensith Ulroke, we both agreed that her continued position of importance within our group and heading up a second organization with similar goals could prove problematic in the future. So, we devised a little test for her and the Gilded Lily, to see where their loyalties truly lie.

Our little meeting here... It was my idea. Pull her away from those under her command, far away from any potential ambushes and other potential conflicts. Make her an offer, see if we could trust her as the Crimson Hands once again found their footing along the path to greatness.

And if she refused...?

Well...

"Philomel," I greeted her with a smile. "Thank you for coming all the way out here to talk."

The faun-whore shook a few snowflakes out of her brilliant violet hair. "You could not have picked a warmer place to talk? Somewhere with a blazing fire and a couple of hot toddies?"

Hyperion's glowing eyes remained fixated on my guest as she silently moved towards a wall, resting her vine-wrapped body against the crumbling stone. "I'm afraid not," I said with a shrug. "I'm in the middle of some important research, and figured that since you were going to be in the neighborhood..." Philomel's face scrunched up in annoyance. I waved a briar-knit hand in the air dismissively. "Relatively speaking, I mean. But, since you are here, let's dispense with the small talk and get right to business."

She nodded in agreement. "So, what is it you want? Is this about the Ulroke's declaration against me?"

I smiled. "Very much so. As I'm pretty sure you've gathered--this whole thing? It's about trust on every level." I motioned towards her. "Trust that your loyalties are exactly where they should be: With the Crimson Hand."

If Philomel was offended, she was very good at hiding it. She offered a sickly sweet smile. "Of course they are, Maddy dearest. Have I ever given you reason to think otherwise?"

"Never," I conceded. "But Lichensith is in a bit of a tender place right now, and needs to reassert his dominance over the group. And so--again, because this is about trust--I need to make sure he doesn't overstep his bounds and get everyone killed."

The faun turned her head to the side ever so slightly. "Then why did you relinquish control to him?"

"Frankly, the group was floundering under my rule. I simply did not have the time to juggle my experiments and research with the development and advancement of the Crimson Hands."

She snorted, a cloud of small ice crystals bursting from her mouth and nose. "So you would risk getting us all killed by Lichensith's actions for just a little more free time?"

"Hardly," I replied, a little bit of snap creeping into my words. "Before I set him free, I installed a little safety measure. A killswitch, if you'd prefer. The minute I catch wind of him acting out of line..." I snapped my fingers for emphasis. Philomel understood, and nodded. I had informed all of the Masters of the Order that I would be wrapping vines around Lichensith's heart, just in case he needed to be reminded of my generosity that I simply did not kill him and disband the Order. The dog would be kept on a very short leash indeed, especially now.

The Matriarch shifted on her hooves, growing restless. "So, then, what do you want from me?"

My smile disappeared. "Max Dirks."

Philomel's back stiffened, and she tilted her head up ever so slightly. Max Dirks, who had been previously been associated with the Order, betrayed us to the Icebreaker regime during the Eiskalt War. With the information he supplied the royals and the Ixians about our movements and actions, our efforts were brought to a screeching, bloody halt and we were forced to evacuate. While I had pardoned many of those who had deserted us during that conflict, I had left his name on the list for the magnitude of his crimes.

"How--"

"You're not the only one with spies at her beck and call," I said flatly. "I'm fully aware that he has sought shelter within the brothels that you freed from their previous owners, and that until now he has remained safe within. I do not know what sort of information or coin he has been feeding you in return; quite frankly, I don't give a shit. But I do care that you have done nothing to bring him in to face interrogation and judgment."

The faun remained silent. I couldn't gather what she was thinking by looking into her eyes. But I pressed on anyway. "Just tell me where he's holed up, and I'll find him myself." She did not speak. Ten painfully long seconds passed by, the howl of the polar wind outside the decrepit ruins of the settlement filling the space between us.

I took a deep breath. "This is all part of the trust thing I mentioned earlier, Philomel. If you don't tell me where he is, I will inform Lichensith of this treachery. I'll let him off his leash until his anger and bloodlust is sated. And then, I will travel to each and every single one of those whorehouses and kill both bitch and bastard until I find Dirks." I took a deliberate step towards her. "And you know I can and will do it," I said, my voice dripping with menace.

Philomel remained silent for several more excruciating seconds. "The Golden Hind, in Archen," she said, lowering her venomous gaze at me. "You'll find him there."

"Thank you," I replied, the cheery smile creeping across my face once more. "I'll be sure to give you credit when I report to Lichensith. Let's go, Hyperion."

"Don't hurt any of my girls." It was less a question and more of a veiled threat.

"I promise," I said.

The parasitic plant horror moved from her spot against the wall, and drew closer to me. Out from the sleeves of her robes, several lengths of darkened vines grew and wrapped themselves around my waist and upper body. I filled my mind with the vision of Archen, of its dirt-packed streets, of the frontier simplicity of its architecture, and of its hardy citizens. I filled my mind with thoughts of the darker stretches of that outpost city, where The Golden Hind could be found, and felt myself being torn through the very fabric of space as I teleported away from the icy depths of Berevar.

[Philomel]

What just happened?

She turned, a slow twist of extraordinary motion, beautiful and elgant, smooth in its undertaking. For a single moment he was taken aback in the flow of her hair, the dance in her shining eyes, the curve of her neckline; but then he remembered who he was and his purpose in life.

"What?" She asked, light-voiced, quite stunned.

The claws of the fox ripped up ground as he landed on the dort before her. He had been watching from the exposed rafters of an old mansion, his tail twitching with agitation as the whole scene unfolded in front of him like that in a story book. Indeed, several times he had longed to interrupt the dealings between his beloved Philomel and the dark-eyed Madison. However, two things had stopped him. One, Philomel's mind had been all but completely closed to him and he had not entirely been able to capture each word uttered from their mouths, and two, in no way had a direct threat been made via body language. No threat meant no attack yet, and if Veridian had blown his cover any time then when it might have come to an actual threat then his cover would have been blown.

It was a difficult, repetitive conundrum, one that had not led him to any real conclusions.

I asked what that was. Why did you let her just leave? His golden eyes flared as he stared in anger at her.

"Veridian," she sighed, "Look, its not what it seems. What did you hear?"

He growled suddenly as she raised a hand to twitch a hair from in front of her face. Frowning, she looked at him, and tilted her head to the side.

"What did you hear?"

It is what I saw that matters, Philomel. What happened? She made a long speech of which I heard anger and dark language, and then you seemed to give in, and she left.

Philomel sighed, and the hand that had been curling the hair from her eyes rubbed her temples lightly.

"Love..."

Tell me, he roared, and she saw the fleck of crimson in his eye flare dangerously - that part of him that was the reflection of the ancient fire whisp.

Irritated, she began to turn back around to seek the location of the tera'k, of what had come of him. Veridian hissed, a grumble of sorts that was vicious in its register.

"Fine. Look," she glared at him, frustration rising, "she asked where Dirks was, and threatened to destroy all we had worked for if I didn't. If its between all the lives of our people and he who is wavering in his loyalities at best, then I choose our girls."

He was silent for about one single half second. It was very small in terms of thought. His mind was made up almost instantly as soon as the faun even closed her full lips.

Dirks is in the Golden Hind.

"Yes..."

Your only stronghold in Salvar, Philomel! He was on tender paws, suddenly less furious, more ... outraged.

Please, beloved, she murmured, for the first time feeling comfortable enough to talk in her mind, I had no choice .

And now we have one now. The tera'k is over there, he nodded, started walking to the east, where the horns of the beast could be seen behind a broken wall.

Veridian ...

No, Philomel, he shouted, No comments. I am taking charge now. This battle has already turned against us. We are going to the Golden Hind.

"Veridian, please."

Grinding his teeth at her, he ignored her and kept walking. Kept padding on and on to the mount, to the beast.

Sighing once more, the breath from her lips a whisper of dissatisfaction, the Matriarch gave in and went to join him. To get on the tera'k and ride on the four winds to the place where Madison had just disappeared to go to - the place where fifteen of Philomel's new young and innocent recruits were in danger of seeing much more than they have ever bargained for.

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

We materialized some time later on the outskirts of the old city of Archen, the gateway to the Skavian Wilds. In fact, it was much later than I anticipated--when I forced my will upon my teleportation bracelet, I had pushed it too hard. While the magic contained within indeed brought us where Hyperion and I needed to be, it kept us in the space between worlds for what had to have been hours or even days. In my haste to find Dirks, I may have given him ample time to run away. I had no idea how long we were gone--could Philomel had gotten here ahead of me and warned the thief before I could find him?

For the sake of her charges, I prayed that she didn't.

It took some asking around before we were able to locate the brothel that the faun directed us to. We found ourselves in front of a small manor, constructed from wood that came from the pine forests that littered northern Salvar. Poking out of the top of its second floor was a stone chimney, a thick plume of smoke pouring from its top. There was a circular slab of wood with a simple outline of a deer painted in gold nailed next to the door. Apparently the people of Archen did not want the illicit business to blatantly advertise its wares by anything more than word of mouth.

My briar-knit hand hovered near the iron doorknob for a brief second. "Hyperion?"

The robed horror drew closer. "Yes?"

"I need you to do me a favor." I turned towards her slightly, keeping my voice low. "Go around the back of the building, and make sure you have every possible exit covered. Doors, windows--everything. If you hear gunshots from elsewhere in the building, follow them around. Should Max manage to escape from me inside, you are to take him out here."

Her bright amber eyes flickered bloodlust behind her mythril mask as she turned to head out back. "Yes, Madison."

As I watched her slink away, another thought entered my mind. "Alive, please," I called after her.

"I will try," she said flatly as she disappeared in a flash of deep purple and royal blue around the corner of the brothel. Had I not explicitly told her otherwise, Hyperion would have allowed her instincts to take over and she would've torn the traitor apart limb from limb the moment she laid vines on him. Bless her for her devotion, but I need that rat bastard in one piece for Lichensith to interrogate.

I took a deep breath, gripped the iron handle, twisted it, and pushed the door to the Golden Hind in.

[Amber Eyes]

The war had only just begun. I spent many days listening intently to plans, strategies, locations. The reasons for the battle were not my concern, but knowing where my objectives planned to be was a definite advantage. As I left Cellar I took the opportunity to enjoy my body once again. I stopped and smelled wild daisies that grew in the stretches where sunlight slid through the treetops. I allowed my skin to brush against the rough bark of an ancient oak tree. I stared a bit longer than normal at a bright red sparrow that bounced from tree limb to tree limb looking for a snack on the forest floor. I listened to the crunch of my boots and enjoyed the way my muscles tensed naturally with each step. The initial stiffness in my limbs from non-use seemed to fade with each movement and for just a small moment there I forgot my mission and remembered the joy of just being alive.

I willed myself not to grow attached to this form of being. I knew not how long the magic of the Mane could keep me in this state. I had things to accomplish. I knew Madison sought Max Dirks. I knew that she intended to find his whereabouts from Philomel, the fawn whore. I knew that Max protected the base of the Guilded Lily in Salvar.

I did not know where in the plan everyone was. I did not know if the plans played out neatly or if already some players were taking their final breaths and wishing for one last chance. All I could do was hope for the best and try to stay a step ahead.

I had never seen the base. I had gathered its basic location, but shadow stepping didn't work quite like that. I could spend several hours looking for the exact spot in the frozen wasteland of Salvar. It seemed fitting that my first step toward understanding my death would be in the very nation where I lost my life in the first place. I pulled my jacket tight around me as I stepped through the shadows.

It was always cold when I stepped. I had long ago grown used to the discomfort. I was not used to stepping out of them and finding no retreat from the chill. The wind blew gusts of snow in every direction and bit into my reddened cheeks. I pulled my black hood up to cover most of my face and hugged myself as I began to walk. I was about a days journey from the home of an uncle to the north and if my calculations were correct, within an hour of my goal, give or take. The city was one I'd never heard of, and the whispers about the condition told me why. I could only hope that if I managed to find the place, it still stood and my targets were still alive within.