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Thread: The Death of a Deity

  1. #1
    Maul-Slayer
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    Joshua Breaker Cronen
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    The Death of a Deity

    A dark solemn sky frowned over Terrinore Isle. Rain fell in thick, gusting sheets upon the volcanic prison island. It splattered atop the massive stone tower-building and ran in rivers down carved troughs, overflowing wherever sharp angles occurred. It lashed walls thick enough to withstand canon fire and pooled around the prison's perimeter where the ground formed shallow ditches. It threatened to flood the basements where off-duty guards played at cards and dice, hunched around pot-bellied iron stoves and wrapped in old woolen cloaks to combat the chill.

    Terrinore Isle; where criminals went when they needed to disappear forever.

    Near the top of the tower, more than one thousand feet above the gnashing sea, Roderick Rok sat in his cell. Two years had passed since the Baron whose life Roderick nearly stole had him sent to the Lornian prison, two long harrowing years of abuse and deprivation, existing in a cell that smelled of shit and stale sweat. Roderick could scarcely remember the feeling of the sun on his face, or the temptation of a good woman, or the taste of a proper hot meal. And yet as he listened to the stoic silence of the thick-walled stone building, he found occasion to smile. His lips split and yellowed teeth displayed in the dingy darkness. The voice inside his head had spoken.

    The guard arrives shortly.

    Most men would have thought themselves mad, hearing a voice with their mind instead of their ears while locked behind dehlar crossbars. Most men were not powerful telepaths like Roderick Rok. He had been the voice inside many a false madman's mind, had planted memories and opinions inside the heads of the rich and wealthy, had carried on entire conversations without moving his tongue. He knew the difference between a mental message and the onset of madness. At least, he hoped he did.

    Be ready. The deep, booming voice said.

    A door at the end of the corridor creaked open and then closed. Keys jangled in the lock and the guard's footsteps echoed down the hall.

    Roderick prepared a single, potent thought as he leaned on the crossbars of his cell, arms hanging loosely through the grate. When he'd first arrived in the cell his arms had been too thickly muscled to fit through the spaces between the bars. Two years of near-starvation had left him a sickly shadow of his former self. But he would have his freedom. The guard came into sight, eyeing Roderick as he did each prisoner along the line, checking for signs of escape. Roderick closed his eyes and concentrated and pushed the thought he had prepared into the guard's mind.

    Come here, he commanded. The prison had wards in place to prevent prisoners using such magic, but two years was a long enough time to find a sliver of weakness in any shield. Roderick could feel the wards dragging at his ability but he powered onward.

    The guard hesitated, but his hesitation made room in his mind for more thoughts to push in.

    Unlock this cell, Roderick commanded, quickly, before it is too late! Unlock this cell and stand at attention. With a distant look of worry in his eyes, the guard complied.

    Unlacing his arms from the crossbars, Roderick stepped out into the hall. He took the keys from the guard's hand, and the knife from his broad belt, and cut the man's throat in cold blood. While the guard wheezed on the floor in a growing pool of blood the other prisoners in cells along the corridor roared for freedom. Roderick ignored them all, hurrying to the thick dehlar-bound door the guard had entered through and sorting through the heavy ring until he found the key that fit the lock.

    He swept down a torch lit spiraling staircase, his bare feet slapping on each cold granite step, his coarse linen clothing whispering with each movement. His men would be at a lower level than him, but which level, and which corridor on which level, was a mystery. Adrenaline lent wings to his feet and he flew down hallway after hallway, pausing only to peer into the deep shadows of certain cells and when he needed to find a key. Some prisoners wailed at him to let them go, while others - those who were truly broken - screamed for the guards. None would hear them; the next patrol was not due for nearly an hour.

    Eventually Roderick found them all. Greyson Fawcett, the boy-faced murderer who had learned the art of telepathy from Rok himself. Winchell Hackney, the grizzled puppet master who could step inside a mark's body and take control of their every movement. Smarteye Sam, a former thief who knew more of precious gems than any jeweler in Corone. Darrin Hornsby, the scarred enforcer who could strike fear in the hearts of veteran soldiers as if they were children. And lastly, found laughing in his cell as if he'd anticipated the rescue, the Lunatic of Serenti, Olin Rutland.

    Find an external wall, boomed the voice in Roderick's head. He spoke a few words and his men fell into step behind him. Like a centipede in six parts they trotted through the halls of Terrinore Isle. The difficult part had arrived, the part Roderick could not figure out. None of the keys he had taken from the guard would allow him to exit the prison, or even come close to it. How would getting to an external wall help them? Even with tools - of which they had none - it would take months if not years to burrow through the thick stone, and they had little more than fifteen minutes remaining before the next patrol would find them. And yet, he had trusted the voice thus far, and thus far it had not led him astray. Roderick and his men wound through the prison, keeping as straight a line as the criss-crossing corridors allowed, until at last he heard the rain.

    It was only a faint fluttering, but through the thick external walls he could make out the sound of water lashing the building's side, like a warden with a whip laying into a prisoner.

    Stand back! The voice roared.

    "Back!" Roderick ordered, flattening himself against the interior wall of the hallway, "brace yourselves here." His men obeyed without question.

    Although the storm raged fiercely, with strident winds lashing the rain about, there had been no thunder and no lightning. Suddenly a cloud swelled and a single thick, forked bolt plummeted from the heavens. It lanced downward, golden electric, and struck the prison's wall with the accuracy of an arrow launched from a Ranger's bow. Thunder rolled in response to the lightning, but it could not match the riotous sound of rending stone.

    Roderick covered his ears and closed his eyes, barely daring to believe what he had just seen. A wall that could withstand cannon fire, laid to waste like a layer of dry kindling. Slowly Roderick opened his eyes and approached the breach. It was taller than a man and twice as wide, large enough for his men to pass through one at a time. Was there a portal waiting for them outside, he wondered, or one of those Alerian airships? Surely the winds would not allow it to hover so close...

    Rain buffeted Roderick's face as he looked out and down through the hole. The sight made him dizzy and sick all at once. There was no portal shimmering in the air, nor any manner of zeppelin waiting to whisk them away. There was nothing but a terrifying drop, more than a thousand feet straight down to the frothy, rock-studded salt water below.

    Jump. The voice said.

    "Are you mad?" Roderick roared into the storm. His men exchanged uneasy glances. They could not hear the voice; they knew not whom he was speaking to, nor what he planned to do.

    You must all jump. The next guard approaches. The voice thundered.

    Roderick grimaced and braced his arms on the rough stonework either side of the breach. He looked back at his men. Before today, he would have sworn they trusted him with their lives. But did they truly? Unless the voice could pluck him out of the air, he would not live long enough to tell.

    The door at the end of the hall opened, and a guard carrying a lantern stepped halfway through before noticing the six prisoners and the gaping hole in the wall. The lantern hit the stone floor as the guard turned and fled to raise the alarm. Olin cackled and made as if to give chase, but Hackney's firm hand on his shoulder stayed the Lunatic.

    To Haide with all of this, and with me as well! Roderick thought. For once he had to give up control.

    "Follow me to freedom!" He shouted with a confidence he did not feel. And then he tucked his elbows and leaped into the storm.

    Olin followed first with the fearlessness of insanity. Sam went next, his round face contorted in terror. Hackney and Hornsby nearly got stuck in the opening trying to jump third. Fawcett brought up the rear, always the most prudent of the group.

    Far below rain churned the surface of the sea, but no bodies struck the water nor the rocks protruding like teeth. The ocean would go hungry that day; the six criminals had vanished as soon as they cleared the walls of Terrinore Isle.
    ... They fell to him as prey to bluefin
    for the Jya's warriors knew not how to swim...
    13-3-2

    I wrote a book! ~ Most Suave Character 2010

  2. #2
    Maul-Slayer
    EXP: 172,649, Level: 18
    Level completed: 14%, EXP required for next level: 16,351
    Level completed: 14%,
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    Breaker's Avatar

    Name
    Joshua Breaker Cronen
    Age
    Ageless (looks 28)
    Race
    Demigod (human)
    Gender
    Male
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    Light Brown
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    The day had dawned brightly for Olin Rutland, with a red-rimmed sun rising over the eastern sea. Serenti blossomed beautifully in autumn, especially when visited by Olin's particular brand of chaos. In the month since he and his comrades escaped Terrinore Isle Rutland had returned to the site of his former glory, where years ago he'd tormented the citizens with his madness. The Lunatic of Serenti, they'd called him, and soon would again. Or perhaps he'd choose a different title... the Lord of Serenti, no the King, no... the Emperor. They would call him whatever he pleased once his hooks sunk deep enough into the city's nervous center.

    Olin swallowed a satisfying mouthful of morning ale and banged the empty tankard down on the fine teak tabletop. A serving girl stumbled over from the corner to refill his cup, nearly sloshing ale on the floor, her face drawn up in fear. She had belonged to the lord whose manor Olin had appropriated as his own, and he'd kept the staff on to suit his needs. He slapped the serving girl's ass as she scooted back to the corner, eliciting a muffled thud from her skirts and a startled shriek from her mouth. He'd already sampled that particular morsel, and would again soon.

    The Lunatic picked his teeth with a herringbone left over from breakfast and examined his reflection in the back of a polished silver spoon. His sallow cheeks had regained some ruddy color in the month since he escaped, and his face no longer looked gaunt with starvation. His wide green eyes still glowed with a familiar fervor. He remembered the pain and discomfort of prison all too well, and still woke in a sweat most nights expecting to find hard stone floors beneath him instead of the lord's thick feather mattress. He shivered and took a long pull of ale, savoring the bitter brew.

    The kitchen door banged open and Darrin Hornsby strode in, followed by the musty smell of the library he'd entered through. His heavy boots tracked mud across the clean tile floor. Olin would enjoy making his servants clean that up later, perhaps using nothing but their tongues. Judging by the expression on Hornsby's face, however, he would not lack for entertainment that day.

    The scarred enforcer looked grim even for him, with his white-seamed face drawn down in a deep frown. Olin smiled. Events that upset others - even events that upset his friends and allies - often amused the Lunatic. He licked his lips, savoring the final flavors of fish grease and ale, and gestured for Hornsby to sit at the small kitchen table.

    The large, muscular man pulled back a chair and dumped his heavy frame down in it. He spared a quick glance for the pretty serving girl in the corner and then cleared his throat and reached inside his leather jacket. One callused hand produced a folded piece of parchment and placed it on the table. Hornsby slid the paper slowly across the teak surface, navigating a path between the platters containing the remnants of Olin's breakfast.

    "This just arrived from Smarteye," Hornsby said in his deep, harsh voice. He tugged at his thick beard and raked a hand through disheveled dark hair, eyes blazing like coals. "Should scour that smile from your face," he muttered darkly.

    Following Roderick's orders, Olin had brought Hornsby and Hackney with him to help take control of Serenti. Winchell Hackney, the old puppet master, was responsible for controlling the actions of the town guard's captain. With the Watch in turmoil, Olin was free to create chaos throughout the prosperous city, leaving folks leaderless and on their knees, ready to beg for whatever scraps the Lunatic tossed their way. Hornsby's job was to command Olin's personal guard and keep the Lunatic alive, and his minor role in the operation clearly left a bitter taste in Hornsby's mouth. Olin cared little for what went into Hornsby's mouth... but the folded paper that came from the man's hand caught his attention immediately.

    Olin picked up the paper and unfolded it, and after a brief glance at the tidy scrawl on the page sighed and snapped his fingers. Nothing happened. The Lunatic growled and snapped his fingers again, twice and thrice. Suddenly the serving girl gasped and sprang into action, collecting a pair of half-moon spectacles from a nearby counter and presenting them to Olin with a curtsy. Rutland took the spectacles with a smile and then seized the girl's hand and sank his teeth into her wrist, biting hard enough to draw blood.

    The girl screamed and jumped away, gripping her wounded wrist as blood oozed between pretty pale fingers. She turned and fled, sobbing, to have a healer see to the bite. She would be back. Olin might not have trained her to be ready with his glasses yet, but she bloody well knew not to tarry in returning to his service, no matter what kind of mark he left on her.

    Olin cleared his throat and wiped his lips with a linen napkin, and then perched the spectacles on his nose and shot a withering glare at Hornsby over the flats of the half-moons. The enforcer was gnawing at a thumbnail, knowing better than to look at Olin while he wore his glasses. With another unnecessary harrumph the Lunatic read the note.

    My Dear Olin, it read in Smarteye Sam's educated hand, if you are receiving this letter it is likely I am dead or captured. Roderick, of course, will have received the same news. I took the precaution of preparing these messages when I discovered two strange men poking around my Temple to Draconus in Lornius. I have since learned that their names are Shinsou Vaan Osiris and Joshua "Breaker" Cronen. Both have a list of tawdry titles and good deeds tied to their names, so there seems little doubt as to why they are interested in our operation. I have invited them into a trap which they will find too appealing to ignore, but like any good chess master, I always hold moves in reserve.

    If you receive this my dear Olin, expect Osiris and Cronen at your doorstep before long. In my letter to Roderick I advised that all of you join forces, for if my enterprise in Lornius has fallen, it can only mean that these determined men will seek out the rest of our crew. Be ready for them, and take every precaution. They gained entrance to my temple with absolute ease, and had nearly discovered the source of my power before I interrupted them. Use all of the resources at your disposal to make them regret their insolence. If I am dead or captured... my final wish is for these two men to meet a painful demise at the hands of the Lunatic of Serenti.

    Yours, Smarteye Sam.


    Olin tossed the parchment onto the empty fish platter, where it slowly soaked up the grease coating the beige earthenware. So. Smarteye was dead, or worse imprisoned once again on Terrinore Isle. Olin felt no sadness for the loss of a friend. His lips curled into a wide smile, displaying his yellow teeth to Hornsby.

    "You've read this?" Olin asked the enforcer, and got a terse nod in return. "I'll want my personal guard doubled, and watch patrols tripled." He raised a hand to quell any protest. "Tell Hackney, he will take care of it... spread the story that we've a pair of murderers and rapists on the loose. That will get the guards riled up and ready for blood. Release the names-" he peered at the greasy parchment on the platter - "Joshua Cronen and Shinsou Vaan Osiris. I want every man in Serenti who has eyes on the lookout."

    The Lunatic hummed a gleeful tune as he stood and danced about the table, clapping a bewildered Hornsby on his broad back.

    "Don't look so glum, don't wear a frown!" Olin sang... "Two new playmates are coming to town!"
    Last edited by Breaker; 01-17-17 at 01:08 PM.
    ... They fell to him as prey to bluefin
    for the Jya's warriors knew not how to swim...
    13-3-2

    I wrote a book! ~ Most Suave Character 2010

  3. #3
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    Shinsou Vaan Osiris's Avatar

    Name
    Shinsou Vaan Osiris
    Age
    31
    Race
    Human
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    Male
    Hair Color
    Brown
    Eye Color
    Gold
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    Job
    "Executor" (Leader) of the Brotherhood

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    The road to Serenti was quiet but for the drumming of the steady rain. The storm that had threatened Corone for a few days had finally smashed into the island and the cold, driving precipitation it brought now beat at the track, and its sole occupant, relentlessly. Shinsou Vaan Osiris, a stern look held upon his face, felt heavy droplets drum down on his leather overcoat, adding weight to his shoulders and saturating his clothes. The moon’s luminescence had been choked completely by the rain clouds, so much so that only Stygian’s light helped guide his horse Slepnir on their journey. A bright ray of irrepressible silver shone from the elven blade as his white steed steadily cantered forward, his eyes using the light to seek potholes and footfalls hidden by floods.

    As the outskirts of Serenti cropped up over the horizon, barely visible through the rain that fell in grainy sheets, The Telgradian thought upon the events that had brought him this far. It had been a few weeks since Lornius, where he and Joshua ‘Breaker’ Cronen had put paid to the slaving ring run by Smarteye Sam, the Terrinore escapee. What had started out as a simple mission to free slaves, a task bestowed upon them by the grace of Am’aleh, had suddenly led to many complexities beyond their original remit. Just as Shinsou and Breaker were preparing to celebrate their earlier success at the Temple of Draconis, things had gone south very quickly.

    It turned out that Sam himself was just the crust of a much deeper problem and his death at the hands of Osiris had stirred a hornet’s nest of activity. The Brotherhood’s contacts had their snouts to the ground to look for any trace of Sam’s partners but violent attacks on the informants had trebled and soon enough information had dried up like a Fallien watering hole in the summer. Newspapers were then reporting more escapees than the Brotherhood’s intelligence had accounted for. Rumours circulated that the dangerous inmates were all connected and that Terrinore guards themselves were in on the escape. Confidence in the prison island had plummeted and the denizens of Corone and neighbouring countries were demanding answers that no-one had.

    There was a lot of fear stirring within the discontent, but the fear led to loose lips and where there was gossip to pick up there was a Brotherhood agent nearby to garner all he or she could. Of all the hearsay and gossip, two names kept cropping up again and again; the same two names, every time.

    Olin Rutland and Greyson Fawcett. Come on in boys, your time is up.

    Shinsou switched Stygian and the reins, his right hand growing tired of holding the sword. He smiled at the irony of how altruistic he seemed to have become in Am’aleh and Breaker’s wake. He didn’t have to do this. Osiris could have pulled the Brotherhood out from investigating the Terrinore inmates altogether and save both himself and his men the aggravation and the pain of meddling in criminal affairs. It could have been someone else’s problem.

    But it doesn’t work that way, does it? I lit a fire under them by killing Smarteye and I know that puts me and the Brotherhood in the firing line. Live by the sword, die by the sword. The only way out is to be smarter, faster and harder than the other man. That’s the only way I know how to live. So it’s not just a case of doing the right thing, is it? This is about survival. It’s also about Cronen.

    Feeling more resolved to his task, Shinsou paused from philosophizing. The brown haired man saw an imaginary phantom of Cronen in his periphery, marching aside him with stoicism. Breaker was a demi-god, a man that carried himself with nobility and oozed power. His loyalty to Am’aleh and Survani was admirable and this, coupled with his legendary strength, made Joshua one of the only people who awed the Telgradian. He was a good man and obedient to a fault, but sometimes this worried Osiris. When it came to matters of life-or-death direct action, could Cronen step up to the plate, even if it meant disobeying his goddesses?

    He’ll do what he can but the burden shouldn’t just be his. That’s why I’m here. If a hard decision needs to get made, I can take that pressure off him. His integrity is without question and I don’t mind staining my hands to keep him in the ivory tower.

    Shinsou knew he had no problem getting his hands dirty to get the job done. Blurred lines were somewhat a theme in his life and manoeuvring the wiggle-room between spaces of morality was somewhat a necessity of the Telgradian’s lifestyle. His thoughts spun within his head as he rode, the moral burden weighing on him. The former emperor had once been an evil thing. Escaping Telgradia and the Jal Shey’s control had changed him for the better. Since meeting with Philomel, Amari and now Breaker, Osiris had walked a more ethical line, even if his dealings with the Brotherhood erred on the shady side.

    All said and done, I’m here for something bigger than just me. These clowns from Terrinore have caused enough problems and Am’aleh wants them gone. I’m only too happy to oblige, if not for her and Breaker than for my own people who got a kicking on my behalf.

    His eyes steeled behind the driving droplets, rivulets of water forking down his nose and chin. Perhaps he and Breaker would provide a better solution for the people than the authorities who had crumbled beneath the anarchic rule of the Lunatic of Serenti, the man who orchestrated chaos wherever he travelled.

    As Slepnir rode on, Shinsou prepared himself for the challenges ahead in Serenti. He hoped Cronen was already there waiting.

    Althanas Operations Administrator



    "When we were young, was this the dream we had? We're celebrating nothing. We need to find our way back."

  4. #4
    Maul-Slayer
    EXP: 172,649, Level: 18
    Level completed: 14%, EXP required for next level: 16,351
    Level completed: 14%,
    EXP required for next level: 16,351
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    Breaker's Avatar

    Name
    Joshua Breaker Cronen
    Age
    Ageless (looks 28)
    Race
    Demigod (human)
    Gender
    Male
    Hair Color
    Light Brown
    Eye Color
    Hazel
    Build
    6 feet / 202 lbs.

    View Profile
    Through the outskirts of Serenti wound a long, deep offshoot of the Firewine River. The channel meandered around corners and flowed under bridges, its surface dappled by rainfall. Beneath one broad bridge perhaps two hundred yards east of where the river emptied into the sea, a shadow formed beneath the water. It molded into the shape of a man as he swam up from the depths. But this was no ordinary man.

    Joshua Cronen's head broke the surface of the water silently and he drew in a deep, even breath. The Y-shaped scars on his cheeks glistened as he swam powerfully for the protected stone shore beneath the bridge, close-cropped hair plastered down around his head. He found handholds on the rocky ground and pulled himself out of the water, droplets cascading from his brown cotton breeches and black lace-up shirt. His black metal boots left the water last. The enchanted footwear had slowed him down surprisingly little during the swim from the sea.

    For a moment Breaker crouched beneath the bridge, listening to the rain and sniffing the air. This close to the ocean the could still smell the salt, and it reminded him of Am'aleh. Of late he had spent a significant amount of time with the Patron of the Sea, communing with her beneath the surface. A part of him longed to join her on the ethereal plain, to sink comfortably into her eternal embrace. But there would always be time for eternity... other matters, such as Olin Rutland's presence in Serenti, could not be left to wait.

    After the showdown with Smarteye Sam at his Temple to Draconus in Lornius, Breaker had done some research. He'd learned the names of the Terrinore escapees from reliable sources and visited an archivist in Gisela. He had not liked what he learned. All of the former prisoners were responsible for long lists of crimes, but none so notoriously as the Lunatic of Serenti. The last time he'd visited the pearl coasts Rutland had taken over the city by way of terror. Most memorable among his misdeeds was the time he'd staked twenty randomly selected citizens in town square and torched them to death, nearly burning down the city in the process.

    Breaker ducked out from beneath the bridge and searched his surroundings with keen hazel eyes, listening for any sounds beyond the relentless drum roll of rainfall. He saw no one and heard nothing, so he moved swiftly across a cobbled street to press his back against the stone wall of an abandoned seamstress' shop. If history was any indicator, by now the City Watch would be firmly within Rutland's grips. For that reason Josh had arranged to meet Shinsou at a tavern near the city's fringe. Am'aleh herself had carried the message, for Josh rarely entrusted his words to paper.

    "-can't bloody believe the captain dragged us out of bed for extra patrols in the rain." A voice echoed around the corner. Josh slipped into an alleyway that smelled of stale garbage. He flattened his back against the wall behind a small shed meant for storing firewood and waited.

    "Don't I know it," came a second voice, along with the sloshing footsteps of two sets of boots. "At the moment I truly wish I'd moved my wife and the children to Radasanth last summer. You don't think the rumors are true, do you... about the Lunatic's return?"

    Through a knothole in his wooden hiding place Josh saw two men turn into the alley. They wore heavy cloaks with the insignia of the City Watch over chain mail armor. Both were of an average height and medium build, one young and the other older and scarred. The young man shook his head.

    "Can't be," he said with the confidence of youth, "the captain wouldn't work under such a-"

    As the two guards passed his hiding place Breaker stood up suddenly between them. Their eyes widened in shock as his heavy hands landed on their necks. Josh squeezed gently, applying pressure to the arteries and veins either side of their throats. Both men clawed for their daggers but collapsed as blood flow to their brains was cut off.

    Josh crouched and caught both guards as they fell, lifting their considerable combined weight on his broad shoulders. He walked a little deeper into the alley and kicked open a side door to the seamstress' shop. Inside smelled of must and mildew, and he dumped the sleeping guards on the dusty floor. Finding old bits of cloth to bind their wrists and ankles proved easy, and he left them there and closed the door behind him as best he could. They would escape in time, but likely not before he had his meeting with Shinsou.

    Back out in the rain, Breaker flitted through the streets like a ghost. He had confidence in Shinsou's ability to invade the heavily guarded city. The man had more spells up his sleeve than a court-wizard and a uniquely clever mind, not to mention the resources of the Brotherhood of Castigars at his disposal. Josh liked Shinsou well and trusted the man implicitly. Although he had a somewhat checkered past, the Telgradian had forged a path to redemption at Breaker's side.

    The street outside The Seaman's Shanty was blessedly empty, save for some soaked bits of trash blowing in the wind. Breaker entered through the main door and made directly for a corner table, sitting down without giving anyone a chance to recognize his abnormally scarred face. A serving girl came by to take his order and he turned away from her and asked for ale without any intention of drinking it. The place smelled of sawdust and sour wine. Fortunately only a few other patrons occupied the bar and tables. Breaker leaned back, producing a creak from the shifty chair, and waited for Shinsou.
    ... They fell to him as prey to bluefin
    for the Jya's warriors knew not how to swim...
    13-3-2

    I wrote a book! ~ Most Suave Character 2010

  5. #5
    Deliver Us
    EXP: 69,763, Level: 11
    Level completed: 40%, EXP required for next level: 7,237
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    Shinsou Vaan Osiris's Avatar

    Name
    Shinsou Vaan Osiris
    Age
    31
    Race
    Human
    Gender
    Male
    Hair Color
    Brown
    Eye Color
    Gold
    Build
    6'0", 155lbs
    Job
    "Executor" (Leader) of the Brotherhood

    View Profile
    One could have been forgiven for thinking that Serenti was out of place in a barony such as Tylmerande. On a map, the area seemed such a small and unassuming place; a town known more for its pearls and elven populace throughout the ages than its defensive capabilities. Even its reputation as a monastic outpost for the powerful Al’Brone didn’t quite live up to expectations, and it had made Shinsou wonder why the Lunatic of Serenti would choose such an odd location for a base of operations. Now, though, Osiris was starting to see why. Safely outside the view of the city limits, the Telgradian could see an irregularly large smattering of ironclad soldiers strangling the charm from the famous streets with their dull forms. Even at this hour, patrols swept the eerily quiet streets, staying vigilant against those who they had been told were intended for revolution.

    Olin’s put the welcoming committee out alright. He must be shitting himself if he’s putting out that many patrols – there’s even a picket up the road. It’s probably the most professional attempt at a night’s watch I’ve seen yet. Still, if he thinks I’d just walk in through the front door he has another thing coming.

    A few minutes later, Shinsou had gotten within a few hundred feet of the town gate. Eyeing the perimeter, he spotted a few rosy, puffed out looking faces patrolling the border. Unlike the vigilant, steely glares of the hawkeyed sentries out front, these faces sagged from the cold and the rain and their gazes seemed to trail off into the infinite beyond. It was always good to see those kinds of expressions on duty; it would seem highly unlikely that any of them would be concentrating enough to spot him when their main concern was what time their shift was over and where the warmest place to stand would be.

    Where there’s a professional guard, there’s always someone you can count on to be the clockwatchers, and clockwatchers hate the cold.

    Ever thinking behind his stoic visage, Shinsou began formulating a plan. He was nothing if not forward thinking, and introduced a little icy mist into the palms of his hands after removing the gloves. Slowly, Osiris reached out as if casting a line, willing the creeping fog to sneak through the side gate and hang in the air a little so as to not be too obvious. The strategy of the whole thing pleased the Telgradian. Already shivering from the rain, the sudden drop in temperature around the two men made them visibly uncomfortable. Shinsou waited for his opportunity as the low light of morning began to tease at the horizon behind him. Darkness would not provide him cover forever.

    “Is it me, or has it gone a bit chilly?” The first voice spoke out within earshot of Osiris. His fellow rotund guardsman nodded. “Perked up a bit, that’s for sure. This rain is like sleet now and I’m freezing my tits off. Let’s go stand by the chimney of the ironmongers for a bit and warm up. It’ll only take a few minutes, no-one will notice. Besides, this place is on lockdown.”

    Yeah, watertight you morons. Enjoy.

    With a smile, Shinsou crouched and approached the gate, remaining hidden in the dense brush beneath the rain, the picket well behind him now. Ahead, on the left, the Seaman’s Shanty dwarfed the buildings around it. It was a crooked but quaint sort of building, propped up by its smooth, whitewashed limestone walls and protected from the elements by a brittle slate roof that looked as if it was barely holding together. Almost any time someone shut the heavy front door, fragments of splintered shale tile would rain down over the pavement and pepper the road below. A quick glance revealed an alleyway side door, one that would ensure Shinsou could get in without even having to grace the main square with his presence.

    True to its dilapidated state, the tavern’s turn out was less than impressive and exactly what Osiris needed, even more so as he looked to take refuge from the both the town watch’s finest and the bitter sting of the rain. Through the frosted glass windows, it was clear to see a handful of the guardsmen’s shadows creeping about. A chorus of orders leapt through the crevices of the doors and windows as Shinsou paced the oaken floor and finally found his man.

    Joshua Cronen was seated in the corner opposite, his scarred face enveloped in the shadows of the poorly lit room. The waitress brought a tankard of ale and turned away after placing it on the table without a word, but the man barely looked up as Osiris scraped a chair across the wooden floor.

    “Between us…” Shinsou muttered, seating himself parallel to Cronen, “I’d say we pretty much keep the taverns of Althanas in business. Good to see you safe, friend.”

    Althanas Operations Administrator



    "When we were young, was this the dream we had? We're celebrating nothing. We need to find our way back."

  6. #6
    Maul-Slayer
    EXP: 172,649, Level: 18
    Level completed: 14%, EXP required for next level: 16,351
    Level completed: 14%,
    EXP required for next level: 16,351
    GP
    16,175
    Breaker's Avatar

    Name
    Joshua Breaker Cronen
    Age
    Ageless (looks 28)
    Race
    Demigod (human)
    Gender
    Male
    Hair Color
    Light Brown
    Eye Color
    Hazel
    Build
    6 feet / 202 lbs.

    View Profile
    "It's good to spread the gold around," Breaker said with a grin, "and this business does keep us traveling. I'm glad to see you well." He sat relaxed in his chair with his gaze fixed on the table, and yet his senses encompassed the entire tavern. In the kitchen he could hear serving girls scraping plates beneath the cacophony of cooks clanging pans. Behind the counter he listened in on a whispered conversation between two servers. He could have quoted the orders from any of the tables. It all came together in a harmonious hum, a rhythm of natural noise he could depend upon.

    "Rotten weather," Shinsou commented, "have you been in town long?" The Telgradian ordered ale from an approaching waitress with a flick of a single finger that sent her scurrying back to the bar.

    "Only just arrived," Breaker said, cocking his head to one side. He heard something change in the kitchen, something that disturbed the flow of the busy room. "I assume you got past the welcoming committee without trouble?" He asked in a near whisper. Shinsou scoffed.

    "These folks couldn't keep a fox out of a chicken coop," the Telgradian murmured as the waitress returned with his ale. He nodded thanks and slipped the girl a gold coin.

    "You needn't have paid for that," Josh said, turning his head back the other way. Heavy footsteps echoed from the kitchen along with the menacing jangle of chain mail.

    "Why not?" Shinsou asked around a mouthful of ale, his voice garbled by the earthenware mug.

    "Because there's about to be a brawl in this bar," Josh responded.

    Guardsmen filtered out of the kitchen through the double doors behind the counter. They moved slowly and with purpose, yet their armor still rattled and their breathing betrayed tense bodies. As their numbers grew to more than a dozen they dispersed among the other occupied tables, conversing with the patrons in hushed tones. One at a time the tavern-goers got up and left, trudging out into the pouring rain. Shinsou watched the proceedings over Breaker's shoulder, his back to the wall. The Telgradian took a long pull of ale and then laced his fingers and cracked his knuckles.

    "They've packed the staff all safely into the kitchen," he observed, as casually as when he'd spoken about the weather, "were you followed?"

    "Definitely not," Breaker said. He heard two of the guards steal up behind him while the others fanned out across the room. "Were you?"

    "Not a soul saw me," Shinsou said idly. He placed his hands behind his head and leaned back as if waiting on a warm meal.

    Josh stood up suddenly and whirled around, lifting his chair and smashing it across the chests of the first two guardsmen. Wood splintered and the burly fellows were sent crashing backwards into tables, both gasping for air. Josh rolled his shoulders and watched the remaining dozen guards draw weapons and close ranks.

    "Reckon we can handle this lot?" Shinsou asked, standing in the space Cronen had created. His enchanted mythril sword whispered from its scabbard.

    "I'd wager we can do so without killing," Josh said pointedly. He picked up their table, ale splashing to the floor, and tossed it at the pair of guards nearest the front door. One of them was swift enough to sidestep the projectile but the other wound up trapped beneath it.

    "Fair terms," Shinsou said. He advanced on a block of four guards, attacking amidst a facade of fakes and feints. He disarmed two of the armored men swiftly and dusted their pates with blows from his pommel, sending them crashing to the ground. The remaining two were battered backwards by an onslaught of thrusts and slashes, using all of their skill to keep the Telgradian's blade at bay.

    Breaker moved among the last eight guards like steam blasting from a kettle, presenting targets for their weapons and then twisting aside. Axes thunked into tabletops and daggers careened off of chain mail as the guards hacked and stabbed everything other than the demigod. He answered them with open handed blows, little love taps that sent them slumping to the ground unconscious. Josh fought his way to the front of the room and opened the door, holding it for Shinsou.

    The Telgradian stalked backwards out of the tavern, sword still carving venomous patterns in the air, keeping the few remaining guards at bay.

    Josh slammed the door and placed his hands flat on its surface as shingles littered the street from above. The demigod drew raindrops from the air and encased the doorway in a layer of ice as strong as steel. He heard the guardsmen crashing into the sealed portal, and one called orders for the others to try the side door.

    "Quickly, this way." Josh said, and raced down the road with Shinsou in his wake. Their boots splashed through puddles and battered cobbled stone as they ran back to the bridge where Breaker had emerged. They glanced about and, seeing no watchers, ducked beneath the broad platform.

    "How could they have found us so quickly?" Cronen mused, crouched comfortably and watching rain spatter the ground beside the bridge.

    "Not to worry," Shinsou gasped, doubled over. He was winded from keeping the demigod's pace in their flight. "I have a plan..."


    ~*~


    Olin Rutland rather loathed the rain, even when observing it through a window while reclining in a comfortable chair. He sat in the study in his manor house, fingers steepled, watching water slide down the thick glass. A clerk and a serving girl stood in the corner wearing the former lord's livery, waiting on Rutland's command. Every so often the Lunatic would draw a sharp breath and look their way, only to relax, saying nothing. He liked the way it made them flinch.

    Heavy boots rang on the floor in the hall, and then Hornsby opened the door and stepped in, again tracking mud behind him. The serving girl winced and shuddered. She'd been the one to clean the kitchen after Darrin's last visit.

    "We found them," Hornsby said flatly, thumbing the scar at the corner of his mouth that gave him a perpetual grimace.

    "Already?" Olin demanded, leaping up from his leather chair. He'd been hoping the rain would stop before his prisoners arrived. The damp reminded him of Terrinore Isle. "How?" He pulled at his short, greasy brown hair, sharp voice ringing off the study's rafters.

    "Just doin' as you ordered," Hornsby said, studying the window. "We tripled patrols and happened upon them in a tavern. They only just escaped." He adjusted his broad sword belt and scratched at a large ear.

    "Wait just a moment," Olin said, pacing the length of the Fallieni throw rug that dominated the center of the room. "You're saying," he breathed rapidly through his teeth a few times, air whistling hollowly. "You're saying you were clever enough to corner them, but stupid enough to let them slip away?" He stamped one foot and then, unsatisfied with the result, stepped off the rug and jumped and stamped both feet. "I don't believe you!" He screamed. He rounded on Hornsby and stood toe-to-toe with the enforcer, close enough to smell eggs on the big man's breath.

    "Alright," Darrin said, taking a step backwards. Although he stood a head taller than Olin and was nearly twice as wide, the enforcer felt concerned for his safety whenever he got close to the Lunatic. "I had some help finding them." His eyes widened as though he did not believe what he was about to say. "Draconus spoke to me."

    "What?" Olin breathed. His cold blue eyes bored holes in Hornsby's head. "Draconus the deity, who Roderick claims rescued us from Terrinore? Why would he speak to you?" The Lunatic spat.

    "I dunno," the enforcer said, shuffling his feet. "But I heard a voice in my head, loud and blaring like Roderick said. It commanded me to gather my strongest men and get to a tavern called the Seaman's Shanty." Hornsby shrugged, "It didn't occur to me to disobey."

    "Of course not," Olin chided, turning to pace up and down the rug once more, "I'm sure little enough occurs to you. And how is it that you and your strongest men failed to capture two enemies?"

    "They fought like wild beasts," Hornsby claimed, his hands becoming fists, "I sent fourteen men after them, and not one emerged unscathed."

    "You don't appear injured," Olin said, pausing in his pacing to examine the enforcer.

    "I... watched from the kitchen." Hornsby admitted, studying the muddy floor beneath his boots.

    Olin turned and drove his fist into Darrin's face. He probably hurt his hand more than the enforcer's anvil of a chin, but it still felt good.

    "Well get back out there," the Lunatic seethed, cradling his wrist, "and keep watching until you bloody well find them!" Hornsby nodded and rubbed his jaw, ducking out of the room without another word. Olin paced the length of the rug several times over before pausing with his frigid gaze fixed on the clerk in the corner. "You!" He spat, "put quill to paper for me."

    The clerk, a worried expression in his eyes, swiftly took a seat at the study's long desk and dipped a feathered quill into an inkwell. He dabbed it on the stained blotter and looked up, at the ready.

    "Dear Roderick," Olin dictated in a sickly sweet voice, "no wait, dearest Roderick. No, cross that out. I said CROSS IT OUT!" He bellowed as the clerk reached for a fresh bit of parchment. The timid man obediently drew crooked lines through the words and looked up again, his hand trembling slightly.

    Olin smiled and composed himself, gazing at the pretty serving girl until she shuddered a second time.

    "My darling Roderick," Olin began, and nodded his satisfaction with the word choice. "My darling Roderick, your presence is required in Serenti, for we've found the rats that killed Smarteye scurrying about beneath our very noses..."
    ... They fell to him as prey to bluefin
    for the Jya's warriors knew not how to swim...
    13-3-2

    I wrote a book! ~ Most Suave Character 2010

  7. #7
    Deliver Us
    EXP: 69,763, Level: 11
    Level completed: 40%, EXP required for next level: 7,237
    Level completed: 40%,
    EXP required for next level: 7,237
    GP
    0
    Shinsou Vaan Osiris's Avatar

    Name
    Shinsou Vaan Osiris
    Age
    31
    Race
    Human
    Gender
    Male
    Hair Color
    Brown
    Eye Color
    Gold
    Build
    6'0", 155lbs
    Job
    "Executor" (Leader) of the Brotherhood

    View Profile
    The light of the moon had faded out some time ago; the progression of dawn’s light creeping across the sky told Shinsou it had been roughly three hours since they were ambushed at the pub. Satisfied they had lost their tail, the Telgradian pulled the curtains to and turned away. The interior of the Serenti home was eerily quiet; the only sound being the faint morning breeze brushing past the cracks in the wood of the window panes. Osiris had taken care to lock the doors, ensuring the pair had security enough to see out the day, but once those bolts had been latched a cold feeling swept over him.

    The house around them looked like it had been abandoned for so long. Its once-quaint rooms with their small vaults and low wooden arches now seemed somehow filled with an empty sorrow. As he looked around, Shinsou got a feeling that the fond memories of what would have been a once happy household had been torn apart by something, although he couldn’t place what. It had been a long time since the hearty laughter of a family filled the rooms with cheer.

    “So, what’s the plan?” Joshua Cronen stirred Shinsou from his thoughts. He sat with his back pressed against the living room wall, the fabric of his dress shirt managing to soften the pressing, rough texture of the stone enough that he was somewhat comfortable.

    “We’re going to get nowhere by running around town aimlessly. We have no idea where that bastard Olin actually is and the likelihood is that the watch will remember our faces well enough to spot us on first sight.” Shinsou’s legs were folded loosely before him as he perched on a dusty chair and his hands rested atop them, gently cooled by the night air.

    Breaker nodded, eyes cast to the floor momentarily in thought. Shinsou continued.

    “But, we do have a small window of opportunity. The night’s watch will hand over to the day watch at first light, by my reckoning. There will be a report of what happened and details of what we look like will doubtless be passed on. But they will be vague descriptions at best; taken in the heat of the moment in the dark. How accurate a picture do you think any one of those guards could have taken of us last night? It was dark and there was pandemonium.”

    The Telgradian’s tired eyes flitted back to the window in time to catch dawn’s first light. “I know this flies in the face of everything we know about laying low, but our best chance now is to find some different clothes, mingle in the crowd during the day and try to learn what we can about Olin before the night watch come back on. We have nine, maybe ten hours, assuming the day watch are slow on the uptake.”

    Silent, Shinsou rose to his feet and blinked slowly, rubbing the bleariness from his eyes with the heel of his hand. Breaker, who didn’t suffer fatigue the same way that most mortals did, stood with him for a moment with a look of concern etched on his face. Osiris shook his head.

    “I’m fine, honestly. Let’s keep going – every minute I sleep is a minute of opportunity wasted. We can rest when we know where Olin is.”

    Drawing in a deep breath, he went to the window once more but this time at the south side of the house that looked out over Serenti. The marketplace was a two or three minute walk from their safe-house and in an hour or so the townspeople would begin their morning bustle as they shopped for wares. That would be their moment – in the safety of the crowds, they’d dash out to the tailor, buy some new, unassuming threads and bin or store their old clothes somewhere.

    That’d buy us a bit of time. Huh?

    His vision, blurred from the sleep deprivation he had so far denied, had failed him. Through the window, milling about in the murky morning, a small three man patrol in night’s watch fatigues seemed to simply materialize out of an alleyway over the road. The lead soldier, his eyes drawn to him, his dark hair spilling down his back and over the Serenti watch insignia which marked his rank, noticed Shinsou gazing at him through the window. His expression shifted subtly as the memory of the night’s ruckus at the inn came to him along with the face responsible; eyes opening a degree wider than before, his jaw muscles flexed -- and said something inaudible to his colleagues.

    After a moment’s conference, the patrol began to run towards the house.

    “Shit! Breaker, we’ve been made!”

    Shinsou’s hand leapt to Shira’s hilt, his fingers finding the rough chords that made up its grip. A quick look to the two doors in the building confirmed the locks were in place, but he knew it was a matter of time before they would be broken. He couldn’t use his ice magic here either; there wouldn’t be enough time to seal the entrance.

    “We were careless, but one patrol shouldn’t be too much of a problem.” Breaker slid up the wall, pulling himself up and running a hand over his head. The lazy way in which he moved completely undersold the power which the man wielded. “Get ready.”

    "Open up!" The guard’s fists hammered on thick wood. The pair said nothing, only turning their faces to the house’s entrance, ready. As armoured feet began to smash at the wood, the metal bolts started to give. They were like paperclips in the face of the heavy blows being rained down upon them.

    Shinsou’s answer came in the form of magic. He took off his right glove, wordless, as he shut his eyes and splayed his fingers outwards. The air became colder as he squeezed his tired eyes, willing particles of ice to converge within his palm. Something wooden thumped against the shaking doorframe, a personal battering ram utilized by the guards. In that instance, a bright white glow burst forth from Shinsou’s outstretched hand and cannoned through the door at a terrifying velocity. The pain of the recoil lingered with the Telgradian for a moment, the man still not used to his new powers, before fading.

    Drawing in a deep breath, he looked first towards Breaker, and then ahead. A hole four foot in diameter had been punched through the door, although somehow the frame still stood tall and strong in front of him. Some thirty feet before him, a corridor of ice stretched out in a cone. The guards were distributed liberally across the empty square, their armour coated in crystalline ice an inch thick and their faces glazed in place as if they had been encased in glass. They were suffocating within their seals and now there was nothing that either Breaker or Shinsou could do to stop the inevitable.

    “We have to go.” Osiris buttoned his coat, stating the obvious. Breaker nodded as they moved like wraiths through the breach in the door and turned right towards the less populated part of town.

    A minute behind them, chaos reigned as messages of the assault on the hideout reached the ears of the other watchmen and they began to mobilize and converge on the now empty house. However, Olin, wanting no loose ends, had played a wildcard in this game of cat and mouse long before the first patrol had spotted the Telgradian.

    That wildcard was a gift from Draconus himself; a blur that moved in and out of the roads and winding corridors of the city, crouching as she approached Serenti’s limits. A leap onto a nearby roof served as an excellent vantage point. Creeping forward slightly to the lip of the shale, the black-clad woman could see Olin’s prey sprint with purpose through the city’s urban intestines.

    Draconus and Olin would be pleased.

    The silver haired woman glided from rooftop to rooftop, barely disturbing the tiles as she went. Without a sound she leapt forward quickly, hands drawn to one of the low lying timber beams of the houses before using her momentum to vault onto the second to last building in the outskirts of Serenti. The woman was confident about her options; to her left, a final high building out of sight invited her. It seemed the most effective option, boasting a high vantage point that overlooked her targets.

    Her shimmering hair trailing behind her, the woman moved with cat-like agility up to the final rooftop, her grappling claws of iron digging into the masonry. Once atop the structure, she waited. A few moments needed to pass to ensure that Shinsou and Breaker had her out of their line of sight. Time seemed to be suspended as they stopped and conferred.

    Another thirty seconds passed before the opportune moment arrived; the men reaching the exact point where no-one would witness the assault. She knew that Breaker was her primary target; the means with which to deal with subduing his legendary strength well within her hands thanks to Draconus. The Telgradian just needed to be dealt with first.

    With an athletic pounce, the woman cannoned into the air and raced towards Shinsou. Osiris hadn’t a clue what was happening until it was already too late.

    “Shi-“

    His eyes looked into the distance, expressionless, as a clubbed fist buried itself into the back of his neck and knocked him out. Breaker had sensed something, a disturbance in the air around him, and had turned to face the threat just in time to see the woman send Shinsou crumpling to the floor thanks to a single, well timed blow. Though her features were obscured by a silver mask, her platinum hair draped down her shoulders aghast the black body suit she wore. In her right hand, a pair of glowing shackles dangled loosely, their chains rattling through the silence. Its weight was greater than such a trinket should have possessed. Suddenly, something pulled at Joshua’s left side, tugging him, as though he were bound by cables that were trying to pull him to the earth, to ground him.

    “What?!” He exclaimed as unknown forces clawed at him. It was as if the gravity of the planet himself was pressing him into the floor, his scarred face screwing up with the effort of keeping his balance.

    “The Shackles of Titan,” The female assassin explained in a shrill voice, one that seemed to be distorted by the effects of the mask. “Crafted especially for you, the one they call Breaker. Whilst I have these, your legendary strength, your abilities, they count for nothing. Draconus himself forged these. You bend to Olin’s will now, Cronen. As for him,” She gestured to Shinsou’s body, “He can be left for the guard’s amusement.”

    As Breaker stuggled against the oppressive magic that pinned him to the floor, the woman strode over and clapped the glowing fiery shackles around his paralysed wrists. Handcuffed, and for the first time feeling a sense of ultimate vulnerability, the man in black remained poised in the face of disaster as he felt his powers wane.

    Breaker’s captor hauled his lithe frame up from the road’s surface and began to frogmarch him away. As the concrete jungle swerved away from him, the last thing his eyes caught was the unconscious form of the Telgradian strewn across the floor.

    Althanas Operations Administrator



    "When we were young, was this the dream we had? We're celebrating nothing. We need to find our way back."

  8. #8
    Maul-Slayer
    EXP: 172,649, Level: 18
    Level completed: 14%, EXP required for next level: 16,351
    Level completed: 14%,
    EXP required for next level: 16,351
    GP
    16,175
    Breaker's Avatar

    Name
    Joshua Breaker Cronen
    Age
    Ageless (looks 28)
    Race
    Demigod (human)
    Gender
    Male
    Hair Color
    Light Brown
    Eye Color
    Hazel
    Build
    6 feet / 202 lbs.

    View Profile
    "I've got this one," the woman in the silver mask called to an approaching patrol, "you lot see to the other." She jerked a thumb over her shoulder at the Telgradian's prone form and shoved Breaker to keep him moving.

    "Aye ma'am," the leader of the group had a large purple bruise on his face left over from the brawl at the Seaman's Shanty. As he passed the woman and her prisoner he detoured enough to spit in Breaker's face. "That's what I think of your ilk." He snarled.

    Josh kneed the man between the legs as hard as he could, dropping him on the spot. The demigod reared backward, striking his captor square in her silver mask, and then snapped his head forward, splitting another guard's lip. They could sap his strength, and they could block his magical abilities, but they could not take the fight out of Breaker. He laughed as another man in a cloak of the watch punched him in the jaw and screamed, the small bones in his hand broken by the impact.

    "Not like that, you fools!" The masked woman cursed. She unhooked a short cudgel form her belt and advanced behind the demigod. "He may as well be forged from adamantine. Use your weapons, but don't kill him!"

    Breaker was battered to his knees by a hail of sword hilts, axe hafts, and studded clubs. The blows rained down harder, forcing him flat in the street. He twisted around beneath grasping hands, spitting out blood and spying the spot where Shinsou had lain. A mote of victory wafted through Breaker's mind as he was lifted and borne away. The Telgradian was gone. Shinsou had escaped.


    ~*~


    The rain relented as day dawned, and Olin Rutland ventured into his manor's front yard. Muddy grass squished beneath his boots and a gentle breeze tickled his short hair. The Lunatic raised both hands above his head and breathed deeply as rays of sunlight parted the boorish clouds. He stretched to one side and then the other, loosening his waist, and then danced a merry jig around a small cedar sapling sprouting from the moist soil.

    "Olin," Hornsby's voice hailed him and the Lunatic froze mid-jig. He looked over with one hand and one foot still uplifted and spied the enforcer approaching with a group of guards at his back. "We've got one of them," Hornsby called, a triumphant smile splitting his ugly face.

    "Which?" Rutland asked, resuming his dance. "Oh please-please-please let it be the Break-er. Otherwise I may just have to break-her! Ha!" He jigged across the grass between them and clapped a thin arm round Hornsby's shoulders.

    "It is the Breaker," Hornsby said, shivering slightly at the Lunatic's affectionate touch. "The woman got him. Apparently even with the Shackles of Titan it took a half dozen men to corral him. They're taking him to the town square now, as you requested."

    "Beautiful!" Olin cried, and kissed Hornsby on both cheeks. "Lead on then, Darrin!" The two men fell into step along the cobblestone streets with the guards trailing behind. "We've heard so much about this Breaker's might, and his skills for magic," Olin cooed, practically skipping along. "But no one can tell me what I truly desire to know."

    "What's that?" Hornsby asked in the awkward silence that followed. He could hear the guards whispering behind them.

    "I wish to know," Olin said with a broad wink, "how hot the fire needs to be before a demigod will burn!"


    ~*~


    Breaker strained against the manacles in vain. The guards had attached the Titan Shackles to a longer chain and looped it around a large stake several times. Josh could feel the coarse bark of the recently carved tree trunk through the back of his thin black shirt. Beneath his bare feet the cobblestones of Serenti Square felt coarse and hard. They'd taken his boots as a prize, apparently Rutland had requested them. Breaker breathed in and out and rolled his shoulders as much as the chains allowed, and looked out across his captors.

    A mere twenty paces away stood the captain of the guard. The man with salt-and-pepper hair stood ramrod straight, head rotating from side to side as he kept a stern eye on his underlings. Several paces behind him lurked Winchell Hackney. The puppet master pulled his invisible strings, and even without his magic Josh could tell the man controlled the guard captain's movements and words. Perhaps two score people filled the square, many guardsmen, others citizens who had come out to watch the sickly spectacle.

    The crowd parted as Olin Rutland and Darrin Hornsby approached. The Lunatic of Serenti was garbed all in white, his cloak seeming to sparkle in the morning sun. The enforcer at his side wore drab colors and an expression to match, but brightened slightly as Olin unhooked their arms and strode forward to stare into Breaker's face.

    "So you are the People's Champion," the Lunatic scoffed, giving his prisoner a gap-toothed grin. "The Granite Phantom. The Breaker of Scara Brae!" He cackled, throwing back his head so his laughter ascended the heavens. He reached out a grubby hand and tapped Cronen's forehead. "You are far too valuable a prize to sit here at street level. You should hover above the rest of us, like a glowing angel!" He signaled to two groups of men that stood at the ready, long ropes gripped in their hands.

    "Heave!" The men called, and they pulled as one body.

    Breaker felt his feet leave the ground as the long ropes lifted the log he was manacled to. The chains chafed at his wrists as the stake was hauled upwards by cords looped around lofty chimneys.

    "Stop there!" Olin cried as Breaker reached a height of twenty feet. "Tie those ropes off and build the bonfire beneath him." Men raced to comply with armloads of wood and tinder, the guard captain shouting after them to pick up the pace. "Now, where are these bloody boots I've heard so much about?" Olin called. The woman in the silver mask brought them forward, presenting Breaker's fabled footwear with a bow and a flourish. Olin sat in the street and pulled his own boots off, donning the metal pair and dancing about. "These like me well," he declared, "even if they are a little large!" His jig carried him to the corner of the woodpile and he fumbled through his pockets until he found a book of matches.

    The Lunatic looked up at his prisoner, hanging helpless high above, and struck a match.

    "I once was the prisoner, but now it's my turn," he sang, "to dance in the streets, and watch my enemies burn!" He tossed the match into a pile of parchment. It ignited immediately, and the first orange flames lapped at the tall pile of wood.
    ... They fell to him as prey to bluefin
    for the Jya's warriors knew not how to swim...
    13-3-2

    I wrote a book! ~ Most Suave Character 2010

  9. #9
    Deliver Us
    EXP: 69,763, Level: 11
    Level completed: 40%, EXP required for next level: 7,237
    Level completed: 40%,
    EXP required for next level: 7,237
    GP
    0
    Shinsou Vaan Osiris's Avatar

    Name
    Shinsou Vaan Osiris
    Age
    31
    Race
    Human
    Gender
    Male
    Hair Color
    Brown
    Eye Color
    Gold
    Build
    6'0", 155lbs
    Job
    "Executor" (Leader) of the Brotherhood

    View Profile
    Fury, vehemence, wrath, anger and rage; Shinsou had run out of superlatives for the burning disdain that was coursing through his veins as he held a chunk of self-made ice against the swelling on the back of his head from where that girl had struck him. Icy gashes lacerated parts of the wooden cladding in the empty house he had accosted for his escape, the hallmarks of spent patience. After the ridiculous, and perhaps slightly childish, outburst the Telgradian had finally calmed himself and took a moment to analyse the situation.

    She had to be one of Olin’s top assassins to have got the drop on us both so humiliatingly. Even if I wasn’t quick enough to react, what about Breaker? His powers are far superior to mine. Did he escape?

    The Telgradian pocketed his free hand in the silk pocket of his trousers and spied out from the safety of his room. The house faced an alleyway, and was tucked away in the back streets of Serenti. His senses couldn’t pick up on Breaker’s power anywhere. His soul had completely vanished from his register; a soul that was usually so potent it could be felt for miles.

    Where are you?

    Unsure of what the hell else he should do, Shinsou leaned against a wall, ice still pressed upon the sore lump on the top of his neck, before turning his attention to the windows. He opened them, allowing the scents of must and mildew to escape and be replaced with thick, fresh Serenti air.

    As Shinsou slumped under the pane, lost in thought, the city air filled his lungs and cleansed him. He listened as children ran past the window towards the square, stumbling about as they pushed and pulled each other. Other footsteps followed, gathering in both pace and mass, until the Telgradian realised there seemed to be a steady stream of people heading past “his” house. The cobbled backstreets of Serenti were always sparsely populated, being nothing more than a small passageway connecting other small passageways, so Osiris wondered what in the gods was going on.

    He got his answer soon after.

    As more people flocked past, Shinsou’s ears pricked up. A pair of Olin’s day watchmen were talking.

    “The silver haired one? They call her the Hierophant. Got that son-of-a-bitch Cronen by the scrotum I hear.”

    There was a grunt as a second guard joined the fray. “She can’t be that good, letting that other tosser get away. Man up and vanished like a fart in the wind! Nothing left but some damn blood on the pavement. Mark my words, we’ll find him though.”

    I’ll find you first, chums. Don’t you fucking worry about that. Shinsou was always thirsty to drink in the offerings of the loose lips of the guards. What stole his attention this afternoon was ultimately even more captivating.

    “She didn’t need him.” The first guard reproved, just edging past the open pane Shinsou was ducked under. “Breaker is the threat. We’ll find that other cunt soon enough and he will do the hardest time there is. No more protection from Cronen.”

    As the guards moved on past his house, Shinsou had time to snag the second guard’s final words.

    “He’ll think he’s been fucked by a train! Anyway, we have us a little Breaker barbecue in the square to attend to. If that Osiris is still alive, he’ll see the flames for miles. We’ll be ready for him.”

    As the voices trailed off, a thin grin crept across Shinsou’s bruised face. He was beginning to realise that when you had a problem, and the odds were stacked against you, you should never underestimate the predictability of stupidity. Someone was always bound to say something moronic and at the wrong time.

    Usually, that someone was a guard. On queue with their fast tongues, Serenti’s finest had not let him down.

    Watch ye therefore: for ye know not when the master of the house cometh.

    ~*~

    With the guards swarming, Shinsou Vaan Osiris knew that movement on street level was out of the question, so the slim man climbed the still icy, pot-marked stairs to upper level of the house where he found a small but stable balcony. All of Serenti’s houses this side of the square had them and, though they were small, they were sturdy enough to carry his weight. Shinsou’s clothes taut against him and Shira tucked firmly under his arm, he confidently strode upon the top of the balcony railing, kicking away to leap the small gap that he needed to jump to the opposing balcony across the way. A single kick was all it took to propel him across, leaving only a single loud creak in his wake. Landing with sturdy feet upon the oak boarded roof of the adjacent house, Shinsou marked with his eyes a path of rooftops that would secure him exodus towards where they were holding Breaker.

    They’ll know I’m coming. Shinsou thought as he took the next leap over to a butcher’s shop roof, Good. It’ll save me the trouble of looking for them all. As for that Hierophant, she should have killed me when she had the chance.

    Parking this thought for a moment, he wondered momentarily what had happened to Breaker for the man to no longer register on his senses. It was obvious from the guard’s words he was still in Serenti, so where had all of that power gone? Well, it wouldn’t matter for long. The Telgradian was planning to be a nuisance for Olin. Soon enough, he would have his answers.

    As he darted from rooftop to rooftop, his strength and athleticism driving him forward at a blistering pace, Shinsou felt a growing confidence in his progress. It wasn’t long before the town square opened up beyond the lip of the shale roof of the last house, and the scene of the execution unfolded before him.

    Son of a bitch…

    There he was, Joshua Cronen, hoisted high and barefoot above a bonfire. The demi-god appeared to be struggling against the manacles in vain; huge glowing shackles that had been tied around a huge tree trunk several times. Breaker’s lungs heaved in and out as the man tried to avoid the smoke that billowed up towards him, making him cough and splutter. Beneath him, looking exceptionally pleased with himself, was Olin. The Lunatic of Serenti was smothered in white, ironically making him look like some holy priest, and apparently goading his charge as the flames leapt up. The enforcer at his side, the one people referred to as Hornsby, wore grey and seemed equally as happy about Breaker’s situation.

    That son-of-a-bitch. Wait, Cronen’s struggling? What the fuck happened to his strength?

    There was no more time to ponder. Instead, it was time to plan. The hazard to Shinsou was his increased visibility against the gray skyline. He had to act fast and furiously, but the priority had to be that fire.

    Behind Shinsou, a few feet above the crest of his oaken hair, mysterious arcane energies began to meld together on the rooftop. Forking, icy tendrils of white convulsed and converged around each other to form a fifteen foot wide frozen circular portal. The sheer arctic power of the magic chewed into the grimy tile work behind the Telgradian, coating a massive semi-circle around him in crystalline ice and leaving a whistling expanse of space where solid stone used to be beneath it.

    Out of the snowy chasm that gaped behind him protruded twenty thin, dangerous spears of dehlar strength ice. Three would extinguish the flames of the bonfire, with each spear being able to freeze an area, on impact, up to five foot each. No flame stronger than dehlar would melt it. Seven would be enough to deal with Breaker’s manacles. The rest?

    Olin was going to feel them, alright.

    By now, the crowd was starting to thicken, with still bystanders and rubberneckers ambling about. Shinsou didn’t want to hurt the population of Serenti, but Olin was right there; exposed. It was tough luck; there was no more time to wait.

    The spears hung there with an ethereal hum as they waited for an order.

    Without even having to motion, Shinsou commanded a storm of projectiles to attack at once. They shot out of the portal and wildly tore towards their intended recipients, their frigid power ripping at the cobblestone around them and freezing the surface of the road as they travelled. As the first three struck the bonfire, a terrible hiss preceded a shimmering spread of crystal blue over its wooden peak; a cloud of cool steam replacing the flames that had licked at Breaker’s legs. The seven that followed struck critical points of the shackles, but instead of breaking the chains simply froze their metal solid. They would surely be fragile enough to shatter, now, but that was up to Breaker.

    The remaining ten steamed towards Olin, who, startled by the procession of magic, had turned.

    Shit, Shinsou thought as Breaker’s captor clocked on to what was happening, he’s going to…

    It was already too late. Olin had turned, instead cowardly pushing Hornsby into the trajectory of Osiris’s deadly attack. In the split second he had, the enforcer tried to dive away. However, the spray of icy ballistics came not in some logical procession, but rather in a singular, horrible blast that covered the entirety of the space through which Olin’s right hand man travelled.

    It was an inescapable explosion of artic horror.

    Despite his leap, Hornsby felt the spears hit him with tremendous force on his left side, piercing through his arm and driving firmly into his side before coming to rest somewhere in his chest cavity. The man was barrelled by the impact, the sheer force making him land hard on his side and come to a skidding, tearing halt upon the unforgiving cobblestone street just at the base of Breaker’s stake. The terrible wound he had suffered claimed him immediately. Members of the crowd were dispersing all around his shambling corpse and hesitated to even look at the horror that had manifested before them

    Through the snowy trail of his powerful volley, Shinsou gave the implacable Olin an incredulous stare from atop the roof.

    You yellow little shit. He murmured, drawing Shira from underneath his arm. As the Telgradian carved a path of ice down from the roof, each step he took forming a stair until a full flight of marine blue crystal led him safely to the square floor, he felt his own brand of fire grow.

    There would be no mercy today. Especially not for cowards like Olin.

    Althanas Operations Administrator



    "When we were young, was this the dream we had? We're celebrating nothing. We need to find our way back."

  10. #10
    Maul-Slayer
    EXP: 172,649, Level: 18
    Level completed: 14%, EXP required for next level: 16,351
    Level completed: 14%,
    EXP required for next level: 16,351
    GP
    16,175
    Breaker's Avatar

    Name
    Joshua Breaker Cronen
    Age
    Ageless (looks 28)
    Race
    Demigod (human)
    Gender
    Male
    Hair Color
    Light Brown
    Eye Color
    Hazel
    Build
    6 feet / 202 lbs.

    View Profile
    A thickened cloud of acrid smoke enveloped Breaker as Shinsou's ice smothered the fire. His feet stung raw and red where the flames had licked. A burning sensation filled his eyes, nose, mouth, and lungs. His chest heaved, and yet he knew he must act on the opportunity created by the Telgradian.

    Josh curled his legs in to his chest and rotated forward, standing sideways on the tree trunk and straining against the chains. They shifted and clicked but held fast. The log felt immovably sturdy, and the Shackles of Titan could contain a Thayne, but the chains connecting the two were plain iron, and weakened by Shinsou's attack. As the smoke cleared Breaker took a deep breath, a breath to the very bottom of his soul. He bunched the muscles in his legs and surged forward. The chains broke amidst a shattering of ice, and Breaker leaped free of the tree trunk.

    He landed heavily, cobblestones cracking beneath blistered feet. The Shackles of Titan still bound his hands in front, but he needed none of his great power. Through watering eyes he watched his Telgradian compatriot fighting towards Olin, facing a half dozen guards at a time, the ice blade Shira flashing in the sunlight. However Osiris' path had carried him closer to the captain of the guard, and the puppetmaster lurking behind him.

    "Shinsou!" Breaker called over the sounds of combat and the screams of civilians. He pointed with both hands. "Kill Hackney!"

    The guard captain suddenly set to screaming orders, commanding men to rally to his captor's defense.

    "No!" Olin cried as he saw Breaker turn towards him, "to me, guards to me!" Confused, some of the men stayed with the Lunatic while others leaped to challenge Shinsou.

    Josh waded through the throng of guards, disarming and disabling any who dared obstruct him. Folk often spoke of his great powers, forgetting the legendary skill wielded by the demigod. The weapons of the mortals could not touch him, and soon Breaker bore down on Olin like a loosed bull.

    The Lunatic cackled and tried to flee, but tripped over the oversized boots he wore. His white cloak splayed on the ground around him as he rolled to his back, eyes wide with horror.

    Breaker pounced on Olin, pinning him against the cobblestones, both shackled hands closing around the Lunatic's throat. He did not need his great strength to throttle the small, sickly man. Olin choked and gasped, still laughing with his last breaths as the life was strangled out of him.

    As Josh stood he watched Shinsou slide behind Winchell Hackney and slit the puppetmaster's throat. In a wave of crimson the man fell, and in the same moment the captain of the guard gasped as if coming up from a prolonged dive. He nearly collapsed to his knees, but his strict military mind kept him standing. He drew in air and shouted loud enough for everyone in the square to hear.

    "STOP. THIS. MADNESS! Guardsmen, sheathe your weapons! These men," the captain gestured at Josh and Shinsou, "are not criminals. They are our saviors, for the Lunatic had returned! Did none of you notice a difference in my behavior?" Mutters passed among the guards as they put up their weapons and recalled the strange orders they had received of late. "This man," he put an arm around Shinsou's shoulders, "saved me from their clutches. And this man," he paced toward Breaker, "has slain the Lunatic of Serenti! Unbind his hands!"

    A guard came forward with the key, and the powerful chains came off. Breaker's powers returned like the swell of a rising tide. His muscles warmed, his senses sharpened, and his soul reconvened with the Eternal Tap.

    "I'll keep these," Josh said, hanging the Shackles of Titan from his belt and rubbing his chafed wrists. Suddenly remembering the silver masked woman, he searched the square but saw no sign of her. It seemed she had slipped away in the confusion. "Shinsou," he said as the guard captain ordered his men to clean up the square and restore peace, "it seems I owe you a debt of gratitude." Breaker crouched next to Olin's corpse and retrieved his stolen boots. They came away easily, and the enchantments woven into the dark metal soothed his burned feet as he put them on. The leather interior was designed to mold to the shape of the wearer's feet, but strangely, they had not done so for the Lunatic of Serenti.

    It seems my boots can spot a scoundrel as easily as I can.
    ... They fell to him as prey to bluefin
    for the Jya's warriors knew not how to swim...
    13-3-2

    I wrote a book! ~ Most Suave Character 2010

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