To leave a legacy

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

((Closed to Ayithe Solete. Follows the events of The Gnarled Roots of Osiris II: The Council of Five))

Stretching across the harsh and frigid northlands, the vast, mighty kingdom of Salvar was still rebuilding from years of civil war between its Church and State. Though the clashes had quieted, and the two sides had finally reconciled in a de-facto peace, both had been reduced to fractions of their former power. Anarchy and chaos reign supreme as the citizens of the icy wastes of Salvar struggle to survive.

That was what Shinsou and Bane were told.

Their campfire occupied the centre of a clearing just north from Salvar’s port of Tirel. As Bane, the burly ranger that had been ever-present at the Telgradian’s side, looked around, he saw the ghosts of his men staring back at him. Those weather beaten and rough looking rangers all perched around the coals, their black coats and fleeces pulled tight to protect them from a night in the open and their focused faces illuminated by the flickers of the dancing flames in front of them. There would have been no complaints of the cold of this place, and as they talked in hushed tones they would all sharpen their weapons and waited patiently for their food to cook.

Now, they were all dead, killed in an ambush on Corone’s coastal path. They were men he missed dearly, and if it hadn’t of been for Shinsou, he would likely have joined them on the corpse pile.

For that, he was thankful.

Perched on the snow-dusted trunk of a fallen tree, Shinsou Vaan Osiris peered out from underneath his hood, pulling his fleece tightly around him to keep in the warmth. Unlike the last time he had been around a fire, comparatively weak and helpless and dependant on Bane’s brute strength, he felt complete again. He had worked tirelessly on self-improvement, fighting challengers in Corone’s mighty Citadel and searching for relics and artefacts that may have aided him in recovering his lost power. Last month, he had returned from Raiaera with the very Mask of Ryft, a Telgradian artefact that had been lost to the cave of Mythandral with Atlas Soltair for centuries. It had been a Telgradian legend, the cave, and Shinsou had found it with Bane’s help. With time, and patience, Shinsou had used the mask’s abilities to commune with Enpera’s soul and reach the peak of his skills once again.

As the heat of the fire licked at his cold cheeks, Shinsou looked around to Bane. He didn’t truly observe him too often, but as the Telgradian’s eyes fell upon his chassis, he saw the man was more of a giant than he had realised – his own young, infallible complexion and comparatively meagre frame must have looked so out of place next to that of the battle hardened former ranger. Men like Bane were a tough and complex breed. After all, that’s why he had originally hired Bane as an escort. He was experienced and a man of great strength, for the most part. But now, in these times, the man was so much more than just a hired hand. They had become fast friends. The only thing that troubled Shinsou was the worry that friendship and muscle would count for very little against what he expected to be sent his way any day now.

He had felt it when they had arrived in Salvar, and he could still feel it now.

“Telos Soltair is here in Salvar, Bane. I’m sure of it.”

Bane spat into the coals just to hear the sizzle as his saliva evaporated, which had now become a terrible habit of his. His monstrous shoulders were barely concealed by a tattered coat, hardly appropriate attire for the hellish cold of Salvar. He sported his traditional year-old black beard with thin sideburns meeting a sort of crew cut on top; a proper ranger’s haircut. A giant custom double-edged sword, which was basically two great broadswords welded together at their hilts, lay in the snow at his feet and the flawless steel of its blades glimmered in the fire.

The man turned to Shinsou, and raised an eyebrow.

“You can sense each other’s presence?”

“It’s complicated,” Shinsou said, brushing a hand through his freezing brown locks. “…because it’s him, I just know.” As he shrugged, his breath hit the cold air and turned to steam.

Bane repositioned his sword he had by his feet onto his shoulder, and began to polish it.

“Can he sense you?”

Shinsou gulped down a cup of Bane’s ale that he had by his side. As it hit the back of his throat, he could taste and smell the familiar strength of the stuff, and decided that one was all he really needed, wiping his mouth with the corner of his sleeve.

“We’d already be dead if he could.”

“Good,” the ranger replied, “That buys us some time here.”

“Bane, I have a lot to thank you for,” Shinsou started again, rubbing his hands to warm them. “…but listen well. This will be a fight over Telgradian affairs, and I want you well away from it. I don’t want you killed because of me.”

Bane didn’t look up. Instead, he reached down for one of the bags by his side and flung it at the fire.

“Don’t be so fucking stupid. You think I came all the way here to do nothing but freeze my arse off and scrape you off the floor?”

The canvas bag spun through the air, and as it struck the fire it ignited, feeding the flames with fuel once more.

[Ayithe Solete]

Ayithe sat quietly within her small booth of a table. Fully dressed with her hood up, shading her face from the view of the room. Her eyes tired and focused on the steaming cup of tea she held in her hands. She could feel the condensation against her skin, it was nice to feel such warmth in this cold morning. It could have been easy to let her tired blue eyes drift off again, wrapped up in her Tirel raincoat, hands warmed by her drink and a slight lack of sleep.

Yet she had got up early to pursue her goals, she had a mission, a mysterious man to find. His image upon a piece of paper, wrapped up and folded into her pocket. The first of her many targets, the start her journey, that once complete would secure her the opportunity to find her lost love.

The heavy and rather blunt forced footsteps sounded from the stairwell across the tavern. She looked up out of the corner of her eyes and witnessed the familiar drunken frame of last night's most annoying guest. Ayithe scowled inside, then focused her gaze away, she had no intension of getting his attention.

It wasn't clear why he had got up so early, but his slow heavy feet made it rather clear he was either still drunk, or hung over. He wandered across the bar front, unsteady and holding his hair fringe and forehead. The bar was empty, just a wooden shell with sealed up pumps. The time for alcoholic drinking had been left in the dark of night. Now with the morning sun rising, the new day was time to move on.

The dark dwells of the tavern though, only edged with sunlight, its rays reaching in through the cold window panes enough to give but a small ambience. Ayithe couldn't stand the man, she had watched carefully him last night; his over flirty, over confident arrogance made him believe he could get away with anything.

He struck a girl last night, twice. Then he even made a move on Ayithe, much to her displeasure, but she turned him down with a clever grace that ensured his temper didn't flare. Still, she had remained awake most of that night, sat up in bed, still armed beneath the covers.

His white shirt appeared stained, the old brown stains of blood, mixed with some alcohol. Evidently, he didn't wash his clothes often, his tired dark pants, only half secured by his belt and scabbard.

"Fuckkkk..." He groaned with a coarse voice that hung on the last letter.

His eyes veered over to her, even covered up he recognised her shape. Watching those luscious lips as they escaped her hood to sneak a drink from her brew. He leaned over the bar, knocking back his greasy black hair and grabbed a discarded jug of water. He savoured it, knowing it would go some way to removing the headache that plagued his morning head.

Wiping his mouth with his forearm, he rolled up his sleeves and tried to casually walk over to her. Even without his colleagues, his new band of thuggish friends, his confidence was as wild and strong as ever. Ayithe felt him approaching, feeling a slight hint of regret that she hadn't taken her tea and left right away.

"Mornin Darlin," he greeted pressing his rough hands against the table top. "So glad you're still hangin around."

She watched his hands cautiously as she took another sip, he was dangerous with those. He sat down opposite her, one hand still flat on the wood of the table, the other resting up on the sill of the booth. His smug grin and confident open pose pronounced his chest from his open shirt, and he made sure she could see.

Placing his legs under the table he rested them alongside her, slyly blocking her into the seat while not actually making any physical touch.

"What are you doing?" She questioned, knowing full well in incentives.

"Just stretchin out, mornings are never easy."

Ayithe glared at him from under her hood, then downed as large gulp of her tea. It was time to leave before he caused trouble. She had bigger things to get on with that listen to his idiot. She glanced at his boots beside her and stood up, then he looked back as if to question her leaving, but merely gestured with a shrug in surprise.

I'm not even going to ask...

Ayithe grabbed her strap and sword that lay beside her and forcefully nudged his feet off the leather of the seat. She exited without comment, without another glance in his direction, but he pursued without proper thought. Stalking her like a predator, he hastily exited the tavern, his aim focused on her but his silence left something to be desired.

The small tavern on the edge of Tirel was a popular one for what Ayithe considered the gutter trash. Yet, being away from the main port it was cheap and easy for a stop off point as she left the port town. Now outside and bearing the cold breeze, the ground remained lightly settled with a thin layer of snow but the stone path still made an appearance as the snow failed to completely stick.

She held her coat tightly to trap in the warmth, her long sword still locked into its scabbard, but now looped over her shoulder on its strap. She sped up her pace, the stone path quickly turning into the well walked mud road between Tirel and the north. She could feel him behind her, hear his heavy feet and smell his drunken stench, there was no getting away.

"Oi!" He shouted to her, following as if infatuated. "Where the hell are you goin? There's nothing for miles up north."

Ayithe wished he'd just leave, she had ignored him long enough, but her message of disinterest was not sinking in. Her ignorance did not sit well with him either, as he constantly questioned why she would reject him. He was good looking, he knew that much, but he was also part of the Tirel Thugs. Women usually threw themselves at him, but not this beauty.

Ayithe stopped as she heard his chasing footsteps get closer, the crunching of the snow under foot getting louder and more frequent. She had intended to shout at him, then he placed a strong grip on her shoulder.

"Stop fuckin walkin off!" He pulled her to him, spinning her around as he gripped both of her shoulders together.

Ayithe wanted to scream, there was something scary about his pursuit. Something freaky about that look in his eyes. Something dangerous about his mind set that seemed intent on gaining her as his own conquest. However, she wouldn't scream, she wouldn't panic, she reacted as she always did. Knocking off his right hand with her forearm then before striking a low blow that dropped him to his knees. The blunt knee of her own was enough to sink any lustful male.

He knelt in the mud, his face grimaced and his voice croaked as he coughed. His gonads in serious discomfort as the sharp throbbing pain shook his body, his legs weak and trembling, and his eyes watering relentlessly. His decision to follow her was a mistake he would now realise.

"Keep your hands off me you fucking pig...I am not interested in shit like you."

She was angry he had tried. Angry how he believed he had the right to make any woman his. No man would force her into anything, not this man, not even a king. She stepped back to give some space as he recovered.

She lowered her head and removed her sword, lifting the strap over head and placing it carefully against the nearest rock by the roadside. She pulled her hood back and slipped the deep blue raincoat off, folding it neatly she placed it next to her sword, knocking off a layer of shallow white snow to clear a space.

"Listen here you fuck! I won't waste my new belongings on you. If you choose to put your hands on me again, I'll remove your hands."

Ayithe spoke with venom, she despised people like him, but her words were more to scare the young man than be actual fact. She had no intention of spending gruesome time cutting a man's limb. She only killed if she had to, and right now, she didn't have to do anything but scare him away like the little boy he was.

He looked back up to her, that pretty face with long blonde and brown hair, with aqua blue eyes that stared down at him with a true grit that meant business. The dark attire showed her athletic body, strong and fit, her weapons now in view, clean sharp and dangerous. She was not a woman to mess with, no matter how much he desired her.

He stood up awkwardly, catching his breath and steadying his legs. She breathed deeply as she stood, poised and prepared for a fight. He couldn't hide his lustful gaze as he watched her chest go up and down, up and down, up and down. His mind continued to wander towards his own personal sexual thoughts and desires.

"You finished?" She released one of her wrist blades. The sudden visual threat needed no more words.

"I'd rather not be, " he smirked, his confidence failing to falter. "But yeah, I get the point."

He gave one final glance of admiration, then stepped backwards across the snow covered path, before finally turning and heading wearily back into Tirel.

Ayithe watched for a few moments, not wanting to turn her back until he was definitely gone. She collected her things, happy to be protected from the cold one again. Looping her long sword back over her shoulder, she proudly looked back down the road ahead of her. The long winding path soon disappeared into the blanketed white of the snow, leaving the leafless trees to guide her way north and over the sunlit hills in the distance.

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

Salvar - North of Tirel Port
One hour prior

Familiar blue tendrils still flickered at the edges of Telos Soltair's vision as the swirling, funnel shaped portal from Telgradia collapsed around him, shattering into a million particles before dissolving entirely into the cold Salvar air. Over the rim of his thin golden spectacles, he judged the two foot gap between the lip of the portal and the snow-capped clearing and stepped down perfectly; Telos’s foot pressing, for the first time, into the soft white beneath him and sinking a couple of inches as the grass underneath collapsed under his weight.

Immediately, a chill jolted up the captain’s spine. Telos had prepared for his journey as best as he could, making sure to wear a thick, grey wolf-skin coat over his traditional gold captain’s haori and black and white uniform to keep the warmth in, but the chill cut through his attire as sure and true as any blade. The saliva in his mouth felt as if it would freeze and dry scents of pine and ice wafted into his nose on the cold breeze, a gift from the trees surrounding him.

Salvar, the frozen country of the north, we meet at last.

The captain’s own journey on Althanas had now started, and by the looks of the scenery around him Telos had at least arrived in the correct location. He'd been tracking his quarry and their movements around Salvar from the safety of Telgradia’s council chambers, using the powers of a seer in an attempt to discern a pattern. The Telgradian captain did it the way the captains do when they are serious; finding out every little detail about when and how they slept, ate and moved. Like the Shinsou Vaan Osiris he had known three years ago, his target was wily and had his wits about him when it came to escape and evade tactics, varying all of his patterns and habits and moving only under cover of darkness.

However, unknown to Shinsou and Bane, Telos was a step ahead. After all, he was the best tracker in the Council of Five. Pulling his coat tighter around him, the captain took stock of his surroundings.

Telos seemed to be surrounded by a smattering of brown, frost-bitten twigs, the innumerable flashing fragments shining in the brilliant wintry dawn light. Today there was no weather; no cloud, just sub-zero temperatures and the wind. Ahead, the icy surface of a narrow path glistened like white quartz, carving the evergreen woods around him in two. It was the woods that most interested Telos here, though, and as he approached the edge of the clearing he stopped in front of one of the pencil-like trunks and peeled back its bark.

Redfern. This is a good start!

Redfern was exactly what he was looking for. This type of tree was native to only a very small section of Salvar, usually to the south where temperatures were lower. Shinsou’s last location, as determined by the seer in Telos’s service, was just north of the southern port of Tirel in a Redfern clearing and that area only had a ten kilometre expanse.

It’s first light, already, so he’s probably on the move again. He’ll be heading north, and if I know him he’ll be heading to where the terrain gets rugged to hide his tracks. I’m probably a day behind, which is excellent. Time to move.

As his breath rose in visible puffs, Telos remembered why he came, and let his mind wander for a moment even though he didn’t want to. He was here to kill or capture Shinsou Vaan Osiris at the behest of Dxun Ra, his commander and the highest authority in Telgradia. It wasn’t an odd mission, with the threat of Shinsou’s resurrection too much to ignore, but the manner in which it was being executed by command worried him.

Why send the entire council out against protocol? It’s never been done before in the history of Telgradia. Is Dxun that worried? As for Shinsou…what has become of that man, the boy I taught?

The disorientation from the cold and the portal was beginning to ebb. The breast of Telos’s wolf-skin coat was dark and flecked with snow particles from brushing against the ferns. His brown, flowing hair hung limply into his face. Quiet, with an unmoving expression, Telos began to move towards the path out of the clearing, matters weighing heavily on his mind.

[Ayithe Solete]

It was hard to think of anything else when the past effected so much of her future, Ayithe felt trapped in a time warp that heavily affected her mind. In reality she was within Salvar, walking north of Tirel, and treading quickly through the light snow as she continued towards her destination. A small village in the north, not so far isolated as to be completely alone, but enough of a walk to be more than just an annoyance to a traveller. At least to those few who actually wished to travel there. The village offered very little to any passersby, and reasons to travel there were difficult to find.

Ayithe however, had what few others had. A reason and determination to not only head to this unnamed village, but to drive herself through the rough weather and terrain to get to it. Her goal? An undead creature that was masquerading as a human, it was the first of many to a long list. This wasn't something she wanted to do, this was something she had to do. If she could destroy these creatures, these beings that hid within the living world, she could be rewarded with her life back.

She remembered his deep toned words. The Circle of Bone, a group of powerful Wights. Hiding in plain sight, waiting for a trigger, for a signal, before they persist in their own goal. I cannot allow this to happen. That brings me to you Ayithe, I have something you want, and you can assist me greatly in stopping them.

She never knew what goal he meant, but a struggle between the forces of the Undead was something she didn't need to know. She had agreed, for the greater good of her own well being. Maybe that was selfish, but she had been through enough to get this far in life. It was about time someone or something, gave a little back to her.

This sword, you will keep upon your back until you require its use. When it touches the undead, no matter how powerful the magic, you will reveal them for what they really are. They cannot hide from you while you wield this blade. They will see it, they will fear it, and they will run from you. If they engage you, you will kill them.

The Bastard Wight Sword remained on her back, still holstered within its scabbard. The black leather wrapped hilt, bearing the silver looking steel and capital I of Ietus, at the top of the handle. It meant so little to so many, but those who knew of Ietus, knew to fear its secret power.

Ayithe knew what she had to do, and the longer it took, the longer she would be alone. She didn't want that, she wouldn't accept that.

"I'm coming for you, Wight of the Circle of Bone."

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

The second stint of their journey up north was much more challenging than the first for Shinsou and Bane. They were trying to reach a small settlement at the foot of a frozen mountain range called Tael where Shinsou had suspected a Jal Shey portal had been constructed and as admirable the effort on foot had been for the pair (trudging over acres upon acres of tundra without a horse between them), they had now gone far enough north for strange things to start happening.

The nights began to get longer and the days shortened to the point where the concept of time became almost meaningless. Their only method of working out roughly what progress they had made during the day was deduced from the time it took for their stomachs to growl at them compared to how much closer the all encompassing mountain range in the distance had gotten to them. The sun never seemed to rise properly, instead just squinting over the horizon. When nightfall came, the stars were out all night but trying to orientate with them became the very definition of madness as neither of the two men could keep an accurate record of each star’s location.

It wasn’t so much a problem for the journey to Tael as it would be for the journey home.

Though confident and upbeat at first, Shinsou soon realised that Salvar had the kind of environment that could drive a man insane in a matter of hours. There had been very little time for preparation, bar an estimation of food consumption and the appropriate gearing up with winter clothing and hunting tools, and now the harsh climate and sparse environment was starting to irritate him. Salvar was known for chewing up civilization and spitting it back out. Only a few scattered human tribes lived this far north, bar the settlement they were destined for, but as annoyed and drained as he felt, the Telgradian knew that reaching Tael was the only thing that mattered at the moment.

“How are you doing, Bane?” He shouted through a sheet of snow as the wind kicked up furls of white and dusted his face.

“Apart from this fucking wind, I’m fine,” Came the ranger’s yelled response. “Keep going!!”

Compared to Shinsou, Bane was an all-weather, all-terrain machine. He seemed to know not rest, hunger or thirst and just kept going and going. His stride was such that Shinsou had trouble keeping up with him several times. As they got closer to the mountains, to where Tael was situated, Bane’s legs pounded the icy terrain like bombs, as if being driven by some higher power. He would bury his head in his fleece as he tried to ignore the growling of his stomach or the parched dryness of his throat.

As another surge of energy took the ranger, Bane lowered his gaze from the barely visible mountains ahead and saw the landscape change before him. The endless white sheets of the blizzard had been interrupted by some sort of makeshift campsite. Some of the snow around the perimeter was stained with blood. There was a single spit with a leg of meat on, but no fire or attendants. Then, Bane and Shinsou saw figures. They looked human, but consisted only of white silhouettes through the heavy snow, barely opaque enough to make out any details at all.

“Stay on your guard…” Shinsou’s instruction was stating the obvious, but confirmed Bane’s own misgivings about their surroundings.

Three dozen and more sets of eyes focused on them in utter silence, indicative of a larger gathering than this place had seen in years.

[Ayithe Solete]

It had taken some time to walk the tree hugged path, a sign of life in the warmer months, yet the leafless branches and cold bark of the sleeping trees added to the dull of the lifeless winter terrain. Like a garden passage they had arched overhead, leading her towards the north and potential sanctuary. Yet as the trees dwindled and the path faded into the snow, the rather flat rocky terrain laid out a vast pathless abyss, shrouded in snow and unclear to any strange of the land.

Ayithe fell into that category, and as she brushed her long blonde hair back out of her face, the easterly wind only proceeded to fan it back in a frustrating manner. She looked out before her, the few hills small and bland, the only walkway hidden beneath the blanket of white, but two clear destinations, huddled not too far away in the distance. A clump of buildings the snow was unable to hide, the single prominent location before her, she couldn’t miss it. Then to its right, the second smaller clump, still shrouded by the blinding white, but enough of an stain to suggest another encampment.

I need the village, but it could be a lookout post, or a camp. I’ll check that out first.

It was hard not to consider the danger it potentially held, but at the same time, on such an open landscape, there was nowhere to hide. She would take it head on, albeit cautiously. She couldn't turn away now, she had made her decision and it wasn't worth over thinking, not anymore.

Even with her coat wrapped tight, she felt the cold, it trapped in the warmth, but it wasn't thick and the blasting wind made every attempt freeze her with the rest of the world.

It would take another few hours to get near the outpost, the tall gathering of tents and belongings finally coming into view, but as she drew in closer, it looked more and more daunting and untrusting. Such a place appeared deserted, but even in this cold, the weather was not obstructing enough to cause such silence. Ayithe felt disconcerted with what stood before her; not an inch of movement, a camp that appeared frozen still, a lack of life that insinuated it was abandoned and yet the structure and quality of the camp before her was clearly looked after. It's state not neglected to be battered by the weather.

Ayithe paused again, the dark marks of something covering the ground, unclear from her distance, but unnatural in appearance, as if to smear the ground itself.

What is that?

She looked around herself, the path behind open for many miles, and her main destination now veering to her right. She still had the opportunity to pass by this place, but its eerie exterior seemed to call for her to investigate. The same questions repeated in her mind.

What is it? Why separate from the village? Is this some secret defence, ploy, trap? Are they expecting my arrival?

Her hand raised to her lips nervously, her gloved fingers stroking the cold surface of her soft lips. What lay before her was more than just an obstacle, it was a question, a question that did not require a reckless answer. She waiting for a moment, her second hand constantly covering over her hip, just above her primary weapon, her disk blade. Then she approached again, a little slower this time, trying to listen through the whistles of the wind, trying to see through the pale white of the snow.

Yet only one thing became clear, this starched snow, it was now was not black as she previously thought, nor was it mysterious, it was a clear, blood red.

She stopped again, her breathing calm but unable to hide the steam that left her warm lungs. Her eyes vigilant and awake, they stalked the edge of the campsite.

This place has been desecrated...

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

Shinsou and Bane stood side by side as the snowstorm that had enveloped them for almost a full two days curiously began to die down around them. Ahead, the white silhouettes stood stone still, the weak hissing of their breath on the air becoming audible as the wind weakened significantly. The Telgradian, with his brown hair covered in a layer of frost and his skin numb from the cold, suddenly noticed a feeling in the pit of his stomach that seemed to ebb and flow, pulsating powerfully one moment before gently caressing his nerves the next. He struggled momentarily, forcing his fingers to release themselves from the balled fist by his side.

Then, in a split second, it came to him. It was a dark, heavy thing Shinsou sensed. He felt that he could almost see a pair of brilliant white eyes staring out at him from underneath a bone exterior. The sky, suddenly blackened, was aghast with crimson celestial energies. All of it was chaotic and yet utterly, inconceivably silent. The only sound in those seconds, measurable only by a sixth sense that Shinsou could never truly rid himself of, was the thumping and pounding of destructive Jal Shey magic tearing apart vast tracts of the landscape. Then, the telltale hushed intake and release of breath from one of the beasts themselves.

As Shinsou returned to reality, he knew what it was he was sensing.

It was the subtle, black pressure of the life-force from the Jal Shey in front of them.

The silhouettes approached them cautiously as the sheet of sleet waned. The closest comparative that Bane could think of for these beasts as he laid his sharp, experienced eyes on them was that of a Human and Orc hybrid in near-equal measure. Most of them had dark flesh painted with white markings and heavy, cumbersome metallic rings jutting out of their skin. Their faces were obscured by masks made from an unholy looking matrimony of bone and metal, and all of these bizarre creatures wore armoured hides and furs that made them look twice their right sizes. Axes and spears of steel and ivory shimmered with frost in the light, all pointed dead centre at the pair.

Shinsou’s numb ears finally registered hushed, unfamiliar words spoken in a language he only barely recognized after so long. After a moment, the largest and most heavily armed of the beasts stomped forward, a giant maul-like warhammer held menacingly within the mighty grip of his anvil sized fists. He stopped mere feet away from Shinsou, his scarlet eyes swathing every inch of the man in front of him. The creature didn’t say anything at all, but grunted and snorted irritably.

“Bane,” Shinsou started, not once taking his piercing golden eyes off of the towering beast in front of him, “this is a Jal Shey. Rather, a cultist Jal Shey, not a pureblood. There’s a difference. This one, and his men behind him, are drones for the colony. They are sent forth to lay the flagstones for invasions by building portals and securing an area so that the main force can penetrate through with little to no resistance.”

Bane said nothing. He tightened his grip around the hilt of his blade, ready to strike at a moment’s notice. Shinsou hadn’t moved a muscle.

“…but there’s a problem,” Shinsou waved a finger in the direction of the group of beasts ahead of him, “…these drones are failures. They are the weak ones, often sent first as a forlorn hope. Someone has to be first unto the breach, and the Jal Shey lords, the true puppet-masters, have selected these unfortunate souls to be that glorious sacrifice.”

A threatening growl was the closest the Jal Shey chieftain came to responding. He cracked his knuckles and neck and doing so revealed a rusty sword sheathed across his back and a strange black stone dagger holstered at his side, next to his belt. The dagger had runes which were glowing fluorescent green, pulsating in time with a structure behind the group that was now clearly visible through the clearing air. It was a gateway constructed from blocks of ice-covered stone, gleaming like obsidian beneath glass in the light. The blocks were arranged into a rune carved archway, each one looking of incredible weight and girth. Some were taller than others, some were rounder, and one was a perfectly carved rectangle. Above this archway was a ring of levitating fluorescent green metal that throbbed in perfect synchronisation with the dagger at the Jal Shey leader’s side. There were markings and static shifting across every surface.

“That dagger,” Shinsou continued as he motioned towards the object, “Is called a Keywan. It’s the portal key used to activate the gateway between Telgradia and Althanas, in this case. Once that key activates that warp portal, nothing can stop it. By the looks of it, we are already too late.”

The stand off was short lived as the Jal Shey chieftain’s patience finally ran out. The gigantic chassis of the figure motioned to something behind the two men, and watched with glee and anticipation as one of his cohorts darted through the snow behind Shinsou and Bane, his boulder-like feet pounding the glistening white and his axe level at the Telgradian’s neck. Shinsou wasted no time. He roared into action, unsheathing Enpera from the hilt within his greatcoat with little more than a grunt and guiding it expertly into a powerful upward arc. The Jal Shey’s hooded head snapped back violently on contact, a pitiful whimper escaping its lips and a crop of icy, matted black hair whipping the air about his head. The chieftain growled with rage as the edge of Shinsou’s sword carved a jagged crevice up the creature’s chest.

A pair of once bright, crimson eyes that had gleamed beneath that mask of bone and metal faded. Their last moments saw Shinsou’s emotionless visage staring back at them, the Telgradian’s pale face and coat smattered with black splashes of Jal Shey blood from force of the brutal attack. The body, carried by its own momentum, rolled carelessly over the snow on and clumped in a bloodied mess at the base of the camp, a jet black pool forming below the face-down corpse.

“Nothing but a mongrel,” Shinsou retorted.

All in all, it had taken about five seconds for the attacker to enter the clearing, charge at Shinsou and finish up in a crumpled, mangled heap, but those five seconds had passed almost in slow motion. Only now, with the Jal Shey’s cries echoing across Salvar, did the rest of their enemies truly react. They roared and frothed at the mouth before approaching their leader, forming a circle of defence around the raging beast. Each had a shield as tall as Shinsou and a rusty cleaver, and they had formed some sort of turtle-shell defence around the chieftain and the portal key. After all, that’s what they really needed to protect. One life matters not to the Jal Shey, but the Keywan could not be lost at any cost.

The beast in the centre of this merry dance finally managed some crass words, holding his warhammer aloft for all to see. Indeed, it was a monument to his greatness.

“You reek of Telgradian, human. I can taste it in the air, a stench that soils the atmosphere for miles. You cannot defeat us. We are legion! We are mighty! In the end, your pitiful sword is no match for this phalanx.”

Shinsou moved in tandem with them, snaking around them with his sword outstretched. He and Bane were separated now, but he knew he could do what he wanted to do without harming the ranger. Flicking his right hand out, Enpera locked within his grasp, Shinsou closed his eyes, letting the cold air of Salvar wrap around his skin. Tendrils of black and purple electricity danced from the blade’s tip, sawing at the night’s air.

“You dare to compare your pitiful manoeuvre to my sword, beast?” Shinsou asked, a hint of irritation in his voice, “I will show you my sword, mongrels, though it is more than you deserve!”

At first the energy behind Shinsou was no more than a shimmer of purple mist that smelt of burnt cobalt and diffused through the cold, thick snowy haze of Salvar’s landscape. It drifted further from its midair epicentre and became slightly out of focus, like a poorly taken photograph, before suddenly ripping a giant void open from nothing with a pulsating crackle. As the void expanded further, its membrane humming as it pushed out, the blades of several weapons could be seen sliding through the portal before stopping midway through.

Senkai Shinjitsu: Enpera Kurohitsugi

There was no more time for words. With a simple wave of his hand, Shinsou commanded a hail of dark matter projectiles to spew forth from the void, bombarding the Jal Shey living fortification with all of their might. The Jal Shey chieftain looked up in horror as the sounds of projectiles whizzing past his ears mixed with the sickly death knells of his men around him, and all too late he realised what was happening. Ahead of him, he could now see the cold, golden eyes of the Telgradian and the dark matter blades that thundered towards him, hissing clouds of white electricity into the air.

The last thing Telrok Krytas, Jal Shey chieftain to the third order, saw was the crackling, unstable black energy of a lance protruding from his skull, before gushing torrents of his inky black blood smothered his eyes and helped him slip into oblivion.

[Ayithe Solete]

What has happened to this place?

At first glance this village of Salvar appeared deserted, left alone due to the bad weather and falling temperatures. Yet upon it's close inspection it was riddled with death, be it murder or an outright massacre. Trails of blood marked the walkways like wagon treads through muddy street. Entrails and viscera littered corners of the village and smudged up the hut walls and rocks of the land. A deep concern for what lay ahead plagued Ayithe, the fear and dread shadowed her and this place alike.

Did what I am hunting kill everyone in this village, or was it something else?

It was gory beyond words she could speak. Guts lay smudged into the snow, dismembered body parts lay spread about in random careless deposits and blood covered the floor like water on a rainy day. Ayithe had never seen anything like this before and while she wished she hadn't, she hoped this would be the last time.

Her heart raced nervously as the cold tried to freeze her, which was something in the past she couldn't have coped with. Her jacket, warm and tight to her helped her cope with the temperature. She watched over the village for signs of life, for something moving or calling out - yet it never seemed to come. She paused by a busted door of a small hut, small bloody hand prints of what appeared to be a child smeared the doorway. The hatred and anger built inside of her, whatever had done this was nothing short of evil.

She stepped forward, the catch of her wrist blades open, while her hands hovered over her hips. The disk blades waiting just beneath her fingers, poised for battle at any moment, she had to be on alert and she would strike down those who would cause such death and pain.

Avoiding the blood stained red of the snow, the white still crunched beneath her boots. Still, the howling wind was the greatest of ambient sounds and it masked her movement so long as she could remain out of sight. It was difficult to know how to hide from the unknown, but she crouched low and remained eagle eyed and defensively poised. The empty camp failed to reveal anything or anyone, just more cold, more blood, more pieces of a destroyed human being.

Was she alone? Was she sneaking through an empty graveyard? Or was this creature just laying in wait for her to make a mistake?

[Ayithe Solete]

The loud caw of a disgruntled crow echoed out as it flew overhead. through the frozen blue sky. Then as Ayithe felt as if she had nothing to find, the deep growling wine of a creature inhuman called out from behind her. Ayithe gripped her write wrist blades but did not draw them, the cold steel like ice to her warm hands, and focused on discovering the source of the noise.

The slow relaxed walk of a hooded humanoid walked out from behind a hut and approached her. Letting its feet drag through the snow, and while hooded, wore very little to protect from the elements. A man revealed himself, showing his pale frost bite bitten face, and yet he smiled at her.

Ayithe watched in silence as the man let out a small cough, covering his mouth as he did, and then drew a long sword from his scabbard. The ice cold blue blade almost glowed as he let it hang loose in the snow.

"You threaten me..." She shouted.

"I know why you're here, and I know you know what I am." He looked at her with his cold eyes and knocked a few frost flakes off his nose. "I was supposed to be gone before your arrival."

"You're lift didn't turn up?" Ayithe's sarcastic comment did not go down well as he scowled back.

"I've killed more humans than you've had birthdays," the fearless unnamed Wight retorted. "I've killed many warriors in their prime, too. You nothing but a child."

Ayithe let go of her diskblades, leaving them steady on her hips, and then pulled her new weapon off her shoulder. The large bastard sword with the iconic "I" if Ietus atop it's black hilt. "You've not faced someone like me before... Believe me when I say I'm going to kill you for all those children you've murdered."

"Fearless... It's just another word for foolish." He raised his sword and stepped forward again.

"Not fearless, I fear what you are. I know what you are. A Wight, an undead creature that by all rights should be a brainless zombie. You're fast, strong and only truly die when your brain is destroyed."

"I'm not here for a documentary, love. How about you get your death over with and I can move on... Even Wights feel the cold."

Ayithe drew out her sword form it's scabbard. The long blade no sticking with the cold and she felt it's warmth as it recognised its prey. The slick blade, long and sharp as when it was first forged from the mountains of Ietus. It should have been too big for her, too heavy and long to wield, and yet it's light weight metal construction made it ideal for this moment.

The Wight sneered at her, its weapon now raised as it circled with a deadly intend, slowly wading through the wide snow and eager to turn it red with the rest of the dead village.

Ayithe stepped into action, marched into close quarters as the Wight sidestepped and slashed with its blade with deadly precision, and yet, to its surprise. Ayithe turned and sliced back against its attack.

Her blade sliced through the cold steel of the undead creatures sword and halved it in size. The battle had started and already seemed to be at an end as Ayithe's sword rang like a chime to the collision of their sword, and the Wight stood there in astonishment.

The sound of the wind took over once more as they stared at one another. One superior while the other remained degraded and humiliated at such an act. The Wight dropped his sword dejectedly into the snow.

"Useless." He muttered under his breath.

"You are not the Wight am I looking for." Ayithe expressed in a surprise.

"No. However I had hoped to give you more of a contest than this..." He moaned as he looked down at the palm of his hands. His skin fading into a deep dark blue that showed his inhumanity beneath his illusion of life. "You have a sword of Ietus... It removes my colour."

"Where is the Wight I am here to slay?" Ayithe pointed the blade towards it's throat.

"Long gone from here. There's no point in threatening me, I'm already dead and feel no pain." With that he leapt into the air, his arms raised in attack as he cleared a good meter above her head.

Yet Ayithe was not to be fooled with surprise and slashed through the air as he leapt, cutting clean through the waist of the creature as it came tumbling down over her. It's arm wriggled and it's stale body sprayed no blood as it tried to drag itself across the snowy floor.

This truly is a creature of death... There is nothing to kill but a consciousness.

Ayithe stood between its shoulders to stop it from moving and then plunged her blade into the back if its head. Again no blood was sprayed and now gore graced her blade, but the deed was done.

Ayithe stood idle over its body. It felt like there should have been something else. Something more glorious or satisfying to have stopped such a creature. But there was no emotion in this kill and it felt like nothing more than stabbing a wooden target during training.

Have I wasted my time here... Why the hell did you send me here? A test? A trial?

"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!"