Unleashed (Closed to Storm Veritas)

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

Set two months after the Redemption of Tylmerande

Whitevale was gone.

Shinsou Vaan Osiris and Storm Veritas stood, in the dead of night, transfixed at the ruins of their town. They stared in silence as the flickering fires created the illusion of an army of shadows mingling amongst the wreckage. The streets had been littered with debris and craters, most of which were filled with seams of splintered hardwood. Corone’s winter wind whipped up burning embers from the ruins ahead of them and scattered them around, settling them as white-hot ash on their shoulders.

Storm Veritas turned his head only slightly to watch Shinsou flick a mass of hot flakes from his pauldrons, expecting some sort of reaction, perhaps, but the Telgradian’s golden eyes gave nothing away. Instead, his friend simply seemed to be solemnly taking in the remains of the Brotherhood’s world around him whilst the wizard quietly seethed atop the wide black back of Attila. To Veritas, there was no mistaking where the responsibility lay.

"Shin, I'm sick of this shit. Let's just find the son of a bitch and kill him.” Storm muttered harshly as electricity angrily crackled at his fingertips.

There was no immediate reply from Shinsou, as though he wasn't at all concerned that Arius Mephisto had wiped Whitevale off the map and put paid to their wider ambitions in Corone. As Storm side-eyed him once more, he wondered what was going through his friend’s head. Osiris was not for wasting words and the absence of any sort of curse or physical fury indicated that he was thinking things through.

Sure enough, after a few moments, the lithe spellsword spoke.

“How much did Arius know about Tylmerande? About our trade there?” Shinsou’s eyes didn’t move from the twisted wreckage ahead.

Storm frowned at the mention of the port town. “Judging by the fact the place is still standing, I’d say very little. He was kept away from most of the commerce. He obviously didn't think it important enough to us to flatten.”

The Telgradian creaked on his heels. “Yeah. Well, If I’m right, there should still be enough revenue coming through port to keep us afloat for a while. Whitevale and our men have gone, but then so have our overheads. If we're still alive we can always rebuild later. Right now, more importantly, the bastard doesn’t know where to look for us. We should use this time to get ahead of the game and nail him. Properly, this time.”

“So, do you have a plan for getting in front of this?” Storm asked Shinsou, doing his best to hide the note of skepticism in his voice, but the Telgradian just gave a wry smile. Even for one such as Veritas, who knew him so well, it was easy to forget that Osiris had gifts of his own that often went un-noticed until they were useful.

“Yeah, I've been doing some thinking on something. Arius either doesn’t know or is too arrogant to care, but I think he’s pushed himself too hard. His magic is so powerful that his body can’t seem to control or contain it properly, so it’s basically leaking. I first noticed it when he flung me into Alerar; there were these little spatters of energy left behind him. Being unique to him, I think it makes him traceable; it’s just finding that first crumb amongst all of this. I don’t know how long the trail lasts.”

“Well, shit. Do you think he knows?” Storm queried.

“I doubt it. I don't think it works like a physical injury where pain alerts you to the problem, so unless you can sense magic the way I can, I suppose you’d never know whether your own body was pissing energy or not. Perhaps that reflects arrogantly on me, but I'll own it.”

"About time. The bastard had to have a weakness. If this one checks out, we get to do him properly and make him play our game for once." It wasn’t exactly time for elation, but Storm’s body language had visibly changed with this new olive branch. “What do you need to pick up on his trail?”

“To sift through this shit and find something he has touched or moved amongst. Then, we wait. As long as he is somewhere within Corone, I’ll find him. When I do, we'll take the fight to his doorstep. This time we hold nothing back, Storm.”

In the moment of quiet that followed, as the remains of Whitevale smoldered in front of them, Shinsou Vaan Osiris realized something. Even as their world burned, it was as if they were born for this. Together they had created a culture of being on top of the mountain, and built an institution seeped with a rich and sometimes dark reputation for success. Sometimes, it didn’t always go to plan. That's forgivable, and the Telgradian knew that as long as he and Storm were running the show, there would be time enough to correct those egregious oversights; to rebuild the Brotherhood. But if they wanted the opportunity to live on and create a lasting legacy, to etch their names into the annals of time, they first had to get ahead of Arius.

[Storm Veritas]

"I first noticed it when he flung me into Alerar..."

You got off EASY, my friend.

While Shinsou was thrown into Alerar, Storm Veritas had been duped in a different manner, tricked into a wormhole of sorts that shuttered him off to Raiera. There he had faced and unspeakable trial, which he oft felt sure would kill him. He escaped, but his right forearm would serve as a permanent reminder. His skin was midnight black from wrist to elbow, a sharp contrast from the tanned white elsewhere. The journey out and home had lasted weeks, but it had aged him years. Years felt increasingly precious to the rapidly graying adventurer.

What it had cost Whitevale was far more dire. Without the protection of its two near-deities, the once bustling town had been entirely decimated. A great field of shrapnel and ash lay in its place. Years of work and growth of the Brotherhood had been rendered meaningless. Hundreds of lives lost; the pervasive odor of death fortunately missing with the overwhelming acrid smoky flavor in its place. While stone walls remained, the wooden structures had been nearly altogether erased, undoubtedly many still filled with the faithful followers waiting for the triumphant return of Storm and Shinsou. No building had been left upright entirely, and none looked capable of sustaining life. The fields of grass had been painted uniformly gray with drifts of ash coating them.

They believed in us, and paid with their lives. Because we were too weak, and too fucking stupid.

Standing and walking away from Shinsou, the electromancer dragged a toe through a tall heap of ash. A little glimmer caught his eye; a piece of metal not completely melted in one home's devastating blaze. Reflexively, the magician raised a hand, the little metal object doing its duty by wrestling from the wreckage and floating harmlessly up his hand. This little widget never made its way to him, as Veritas jumped back and turned away at the horror. It was a tiny spoon, still wrapped on one end by a macabre mix of charred flesh and bone. The hand size was unmistakable; he wouldn't look a second time to confirm.

His throat lurched with sour stomach acid as his heart beat rapidly and breath shortened. A few beads of sweat had formed under the tautly pulled gray hair, the new wrinkles in his forehead creating a trench that would escort the perspiration safely around his eyes. Wide-eyed and desperate, he looked up to find his closest friend sharing his horror. Shinsou had seen this abomination just as clearly. The Telgradian's golden eyes did enough talking; this was a brutality that would be avenged.

The inclination was to lash out. Swear at the faultless Shinsou, stomp off into the wilderness and start killing, an attempt to draw Mephisto's attention. Since his return from the forest, Storm had felt both older and more lethal than ever, with no patience for half measures. His own legacy and holdings were meaningless; there was but one task in the world and that was the killing of this great evil. Still, Shinsou was right; it was their impetuous natures and fury that had killed every living thing in Whitevale. Strong and stupid was a strategy which had proven terrible.

"I can raise the metal; pull out and allow us to sort and separate. You be the judge of what looks worthwhile."

The fury and sadness subsided in the face of the wizened wizard, as he raised his hands to shoulder height with a blank look of near tranquility. His eyes closed as he focused, hundreds of small objects - nails (and spoons) and belt buckles (and spoons) and keys (spoons) and knives (yes) slowly raised from under their ashy graves and danced gently in the breeze. He could hold them here as long as he needed, but within a few seconds the crunching sound of his friend walking informed him it would be a short term. When the footsteps stopped, Storm exhaled, allowing the pieces to fall as his younger friend closely examined the find. Elsewhere the metal pieces all lay atop the piles from which they were exhumed, and Veritas kept his eyes fixed upon Shinsou to avert his gaze from the image that haunted him.

"Thank you. I think you've found us a good start, although I'll need a bit of time to know for sure." Shinsou spoke with purpose and focus; he was burying emotion beneath wisdom, an admirable trick that the wizard had yet to learn. "We'll find him. We won't forget."

Storm's eyes watered as he looked down at his shoes, certain that his feet offered no answers. The stall allowed him to breathe a moment to avoid speaking in a cracked voice. Fury was for the confident; now was a moment of simple sadness. It too, would pass, but it would not be replaced with diplomacy or stoicism.

"When it's time to kill him, I'll remember the little spoon."

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

Even with Storm's magnetic abilities narrowing down the scope of the search, there was still an incredible amount to do.

The electromancer stood eyeing the piles of wreckage sullenly, and Shinsou began the stomach-churning task of sifting through what remained of Whitevale. Though he was practiced at keeping his emotions in check, the Telgradian found the process harder than he imagined. There were hundreds, if not thousands, of utensils and keepsakes, pieces of jewellery and children's toys. As brick dust, ash, and whatever else from the rubble blew onto him, the swordsman's eyes flitted from item to item, seeking even a modicum of Arius's trail whilst his mind reminded him that each one he looked at was a life extinguished; a veritable, tangible proof of their failure.

The gruesome work went on for hours, and continued even as the weather turned on them. Menacing, cumbersome clouds unleashed rain that pounded ground zero, mixing the debris and the blood of the victims into an awful, foul swill that sloshed around Shinsou's boots. As this awful soup ate at his senses and sanity, hundreds more items were checked and set aside in mounds through the awful stench that now filled the air. The only advantage that the Telgradian had was that he knew what he was looking for; everything else about this was soul destroying.

Eventually, after an age, Shinsou Vaan Osiris dragged himself up the final pile of wreckage. Judging from the positioning of himself compared the outer wall, which had remained relatively intact, the Telgradian guessed he was now near the living quarters for the general staff. This was confirmed by a sudden change in the material being sifted through - torched journals, sodden and torn war diaries and shattered bottles of expensive brandy and port. There were twisted remains of wrought iron bed-frames, bloodstained book-cases not completely destroyed in the attack and the charred remains of what looked like personal weapons; crossbows, daggers and...

What's that?

There, in the corner of his eye. At the edge of the pile, something jutted out, half buried by blackened paper and torn fabric. It could have easily been missed, but something about this stuck pins in the back of his brain. Shinsou slowly walked over, almost stumbling over the uneven mound of ruins, and surely enough his senses began to tingle as he outstretched his palm and wrapped his cold fingers around the item. He realised immediately that he was holding the grip of a blade. The object didn't move at first, and only by the Telgradian wrestling it away from the debris did it come loose and pull free.

It was a sword. Not just any sword either.

"I like your sword. I'm keeping it."

As he held the double edged blade aloft, Shinsou remembered those last words he had ever said to Canen. They had been spoken before he had sent the Khaian off to the detention block to keep him "safe", just before Arius dissolved his host body and fled. Now, all that remained of him was this sword, 'The Valiance' as Canen had named it. The Telgradian had entirely forgotten that he even had it in his quarters, a sword that Arius had touched whilst in possession of the dead Khaian's body.

The radiation he felt from the shining volak blade was unmistakable, and not only that, it was strong; it pulsed in waves, a beacon to him.

As he turned to face Storm, who had followed behind, Shinsou could already tell that his friend knew.

"It was the last thing Arius physically touched. I forgot I had it, up until now."

Not wanting to waste a moment more, the Telgradian closed his eyes. He shut out the beating of his heart and the staccato drumming of the rain on metal and wood, and reached out with his senses as far as he could. Rivulets of water poured over the skin on his face as Shinsou's senses flowed over Corone. Tylmerande, Radasanth, the coasts, Underwood...

Wait.

His forehead creased as he felt a pinch in his stomach. The feeling matched that emanating from Canen's sword, creating a resonating wave of nausea deep within his gut. Shinsou checked again, desperate to be sure, and as he reached into Underwood once again he found the match he was looking for.

He slowly opened his eyes to find his closest friend staring at him, his blue eyes silently urging him for information. Shinsou had seen everything clearly, and he knew.

"Underwood. He's in Underwood, and judging from his position he's moving towards Tylmerande. There's no mistaking it."

Shinsou's eyes narrowed as he looked down at the Valiance. It had provided them answers at a time when they needed it most, and he was thankful. Perhaps it wasn't just a subtle irony that Canen's own sword would be the key that not only helped avenge his death, but all those who had died at Arius's hands.

Perhaps it was fate.

[Storm Veritas]

Never ceases to amaze...

Storm shook his head with a smirk at the report offered by his old friend. Shinsou's abilities were far more diverse than his own, and far more difficult to wrap his head around. How in the gods' names the Telgradian could serve as a sort of cosmic bloodhound was totally mystifying, however Veritas had learned long ago that doubting the wisdom of Vaan Osiris was a fool's errand. Besides, he welcomed a little reprieve from these horrors, as the rain beat down upon them because of course it had to rain.

His gaze found once more his massive horse Attila, who stood idly in the wreckage as his hooves were being coated with a thick cream of watered ash bespeckled with dried blood. The horrifying nail polish seemed to put a point on the normally ornery beast, who stood tall, alert, and bothered. Rubbing the oak-thick neck of his mount, Storm whispered gently towards a high ear.

"Yeah, I know Attila. This sucks for all of us. Let's split."

With a single hand on the saddle horn, Storm hopped up effortlessly, using his steel-soled shoes and magnetic prowess to float down gently on the ebony horse's back. He slapped the neck of Attila gently to affirm he was set, and gently pulled the reins back to turn him. Shinsou was moving as well.

"Your sword must not be metal, or at least a non-ferrous type. Otherwise it would have hopped up and we'd have the rain chase us." There was no apology in the failure to expose the sword, nor would one be coming. "I'd suppose we can't beat him to town by now, but presume if he wanted to flatten the town it would be floating in the sea by now."

Shinsou wasn't hesitating to mount his horse either; the urgency was a mixture of anger and convenience. For all their fury, wet clothes and cold air were consistently miserable, and falling ill on the eve of this showdown wouldn't serve anyone well. The dense microforests outside of town would offer enough cover to draw a fire and create a plan; Whitevale was no longer a home for the living.

The sound of the rain beating around them mixed with the clopping of hooves on packed gravel as the tandem left Whitevale, perhaps for the last time. The saturation and white noise was more than enough to quell any need for small talk. There may be a time around the fire for them to discuss the long journey back at length, for now the silence was needed to process the horror that they had experienced, cloistering the horribly images into deep alcoves of the mind to afford them some opportunity to sleep.

Sleep... as good a need as any.

Without another thought, the wizard reached into a saddlebag to grab his smaller flask. A quick jerk and the sweet burn of honey mead warmed his mouth in a welcome lather. The flavors were pleasant in spite of the driving rain, hearkening back to days of sun and smiles. He glanced at Shinsou, whose eyes were already locked on the leather pouch of pleasantries. His hand was up, and easily caught the lobbed flask. Artificial happiness was what they'd have to settle for tonight.

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

An hour later, there was a temporary respite.

The fire pit occupied the centre of a clearing in a wooded area, far enough off the path for the light to be concealed by trees and the smoke by night. As the weather beaten pair sat around the coals, their coats crumpled from a hellish night in the open and their tired faces illuminated by the flickers of the dancing flames in front of them, there were no complaints. Instead, they talked in hushed tones. Shinsou sharpened his weapon and Storm's daggers with a flat stone whilst the electromancer waited patiently for their freshly plucked chicken to cook on a spit.

Perched on the trunk of a fallen oak, the Telgradian finished his work and peered out from underneath his hood at Storm. Although it now felt like a lifetime ago, it had only been a few weeks since his friend had abruptly parted ways with him. He understood that Veritas had been sent to the depths of Raiaera. He could see that one of the electromancer's arms was jet black from the wrist up to god-knows-where, and the man looked afflicted in ways that even a few weeks of hard travel wouldn't cause.

He turned his head away. As Shinsou stared blankly into the fire, he knew that something terrible had happened. Raiaera had been a hotbed of plagues, dark magic and all sorts of hellish remnants of Pode and Xem'zund's devilish sorcery and curses for a long time now, and he could only imagine what the electromancer had experienced to suffer such a wound. Shinsou mulled over asking his friend about it as he pulled a chargrilled chicken leg from the makeshift wooden griddle in front of him, and sunk his teeth into the tender, juicy meat.

The fire was only small now, but it kept the edge of the midnight chill away and had cooked their food perfectly.

Storm spat into the coals just to hear the sizzle as his saliva evaporated. The daggers that Shinsou had gifted him, now sharpened to perfection, lay at his feet and the flawless steel of their blades glimmered in the fire.

The man threw a bare chicken bone into the flames, and turned to Shinsou.

“Where did Arius send you, then?”

Shinsou, brushing a hand through his brown locks, snorted.

"Alerar. Ettermire, specifically. Long story short, I ended up being spat out into a street, and had to grease a few palms to get home. Luckily, it seems the Brotherhood isn't an international brand yet; I was able to get about relatively un-noticed."

As he shrugged, his breath hit the cold night’s air and turned to steam.

“No idea about Felicity. She wasn't amongst the dead that I could see, but I can't sense her energy. She's probably been warped elsewhere, too.”

Shinsou repositioned a jug of honey mead he had by his side into his palm, and then walked over and dropped it at the Electromancer’s feet. Storm took it quietly and gulped down a swig of ale. As it hit the back of his throat, he wiped his mouth with the corner of his sleeve of his injured arm. The Telgradian's eye was once again caught, and again he wondered how much he could, and should, ask Storm about his own trip home.

"Heard you ended up in Raiaera. That's a hell of a place to be dumped in. What happened there?"

Storm didn’t look up. Instead, he reached down for one of the three bags by his side and flung the first untied sack at the fire. The canvas thing spun through mid air, spreading its powdered contents all over the glowing embers. As the silver dust struck the heart of the glowing coals, the flames roared back to life and the campfire was restored to its former glory.

"It was-"

Storm's voice was cut dead by something moving in the corner of his eye, followed by the sound of snapping twigs. It looked as if the electromancer's very skin bristled as he shot a silent glance to Shinsou, who immediately rested his hand on the hilt of Enpera.

Whoever you are, you picked a bad night to fuck with us.

Suddenly, all went very, very quiet.

The quiet was short lived as a hooded figure darted menacingly through the clearing’s edge behind Shinsou and Storm, his feet pounding the dirt and through the fallen leaves. Shinsou wasted no time. His lithe frame glided into action, scooping Enpera from the ground without a sound and guiding it expertly into a powerful upward arc. The figure’s hooded head snapped back violently on contact, a pitiful whimper escaping his lips as the edge of the blade carved a jagged crevice up the assassin’s chest.

The pair of eyes that had gleamed beneath those black robes faded. Their last moments saw the Telgradian's golden eyes staring back at them, his face spattered with crimson. The body, carried by its own momentum, ragdolled over the trunk on which they had been sat and clumped in a bloodied mess at the base of the large campfire, a crimson pool forming below the face-down corpse.

Fool.

All in all, it had taken about five seconds for the attacker to enter the clearing, charge at Shinsou and rest up in a crumpled, mangled heap in the centre of the camp, but those five seconds had passed almost in slow motion.

“Storm, more in the trees. Looks like we were followed.”

Their assailants could be heard long before they came into sight. Their quick footsteps pressed heavily into the autumn leaves that blanketed every uneven surface for miles around, the crunches of their feet upon the forest floor and the pounding of their breath upon the cold air the only signs of their existence. To the un-trained ear, it was as if the patter of raindrops had reached the forest. To the onrushing attackers, they were the coming of death’s agents.

Shinsou and Storm knew it, even if they didn't. Really, they were all just lambs to the slaughter.

[Storm Veritas]

The night time interruption conjured an odd blend of feelings. Fear blended with anger, annoyance danced with confusion. A handful of trained trackers had followed the duo into the woods, and attacked in what should have been the dead of night. Shinsou acted reflexively, a Telgradian automaton of death that lacked any hint of hesitation or humanity. Killing was second nature to them; whomever had been sent to kill them clearly had no idea what they were getting into.

The gentle whisper of lightly brushed leaves behind Storm alerted him in spite of the louder crackles of wood breaking on the fire. An iron-tipped arrow was already pointed at Storm, who simply focused on the metal head with his manipulative waves. The arrow fired as he stared at it, and against the apparent laws of physics, the projectile bent an impossibly hard loop around the magician before returning from whence it came, burying the studded head deep through the chest of its shocked shooter. His attackers' eyes moved their fixation from him towards infinity, a gaze that was not returned by the furious wizard.

Don't kill them all. Need to question them.

Two of the tracker's running mates followed ten yards back on either side of him, moving forward in the darkness with their bows drawn, operating in disbelief of what they had just seen. Storm couldn't focus on both of them at once, but presumed with their respective fear, he wouldn't have to. Without a word, Storm raised his hand towards the man more on his right side. A horrifying, arcing blast of white and blue boomed, incinerating everything in its path, burning through some light tree branch cover before essentially vaporizing the ill-intended arrow and rendering its master to little more than char, smoke, and stink. A residual, secondary flicker of electricity trailed from the primary target to his brethren, individual tendrils taking root on his belt, teeth, and weapon.

"Shinsou, one more for you." Storm spoke flatly towards his left, the obvious stated for the sake of it while he knew the last assailant was to be short work. The third attacker was merely stunned, and Storm pounced, a leopard both silent and unforgiving. His freshly sharpened blade was tested and found sufficient, carving clean through fingers to remove a grip from a bow at the knuckle. Blood bubbled on the felled soldier, and Storm offered an open-handed slap to attempt to shake to life his attacker, in hopes of questioning him.

Shit. I ruined my plaything.

The lack of responsiveness was telling, as was the inability of his prey to howl at the loss of at least two fingers. The indirect blast was too much, likely bursting the heart within his chest. A quick pivot, and he saw Vaan Osiris standing over a fifth and final hunter, a man who looked prepared to track rabbits and stumbled upon the dragons.

Storm felt his heart racing; nostrils flared and hands fixed around knives like extensions of his wrists. His body was older now, but as lethal as ever, and it would take him time to relax. He felt sweat pouring on his skin chill him as the wind began to gently whip through the woods. It was too easy. Why had this happened?

"So I guess we're not questioning them, then?" Storm's smile was facetious; the speed of the whole attack little more than second nature for them.

"I was hoping you'd have the general sense to keep one alive." Shinsou's retorted sarcasm was appreciated; there was a time where the TelGradian lacked such awareness. His words were more spit than spoken, a facetious nature serving as a slightly awkward break from the tension. "Besides, these guys were complete jokes; only Arius would dare come at us here, but this wasn't anything that he could have hoped would take us down."

Storm was determined for a moment not to appear stupid; he fought his inclination to speak and instead thought for a few moments. After a brief spot of reflection, he turned back to the fire, letting the orange light kiss his face as he used a cloth from his satchel to clean his hands. His eyes widened and voice quickened towards his dear friend.

"Scout team, then. I'm sure my little light show tipped off the second team. They're probably riding out back to Arius. If we can get to the horses quickly enough, we might be able to catch them and trail straight to that bald prick."

"Easy." Shinsou smiled back, clenching his hands overhead as he stretched his back. "We can't race into the mouth of the lion. Let's stick to it, drawn him out, and set the stage for ourselves this time."

The heat rubbing his face, an uneasiness rolled in the stomach of the electromancer again. Was it possible that they could actually get the jump on Arius? Was he committing himself to chase down his own death?

Storm Veritas quietly put on a false brave face, gazing at the flames as he re-sheathed his daggers. A wry nod was all he would offer, choosing instead to listen as they walked back to the horses. Camp would have to be made elsewhere tonight.

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

The assault had ended as quickly as it had begun. Storm, satisfied their work was done, had sheathed his daggers and now trudged past the bloodied corpses towards where they had moored Attila and Slepnir. Shinsou was lagging slightly behind him, straightening tall and turning to survey the chaos. His bloodied hands still tightly clung to his sword, and as his eyes swept across each anonymous cadaver for any signs of life, he could still feel its sealed power simmering to the very edge.

Settle down, Enpera. The work’s done.

The Telgradian slowly meandered amongst the dead, stopping only to kick his toe underneath one of the nameless face-down bodies. As the force barrelled the man onto his back, his arms lopped over to reveal the bloodied, naked skin of his forearms. The spellsword was about to move on, but something caught his eye and he stopped suddenly, cocking his head.

What the…?

Beneath the slick crimson spatters, a mark was discernible. Not just any mark, either, but a tattoo. The pattern was instantly recognisable to the Telgradian; a gordian knot, tied through the eye sockets of a dull grey skull in a manner that was so elegantly Brotherhood, for lack of a better word. It was a design he had seen often, because it belonged to the ‘Reavers’ during the Siege of Radasanth, a unit which he and his Raiaeran bodyguard Durandel had led into the fray. At first, Shinsou questioned whether his eyes were betraying him, but even if it was late at night, the sky was clear and sprinkled with the light of a thousand stars.

There was no mistaking it.

The Telgradian’s lips ran dry as they parted, but before he could say anything to the electromancer, his attention was drawn back to the forest. Something pulled at the fringes of his senses; a familiar presence slithering towards them, a friendly aura that he knew well, but felt somehow different. Instinctively, he lowered his weapon.

He did not expect the arrow that sliced the air right in front of his eyes, only a fraction away from embedding in his cheek.

“Fucking hell!” Shinsou exclaimed, as another arrow tore past him, smacking into a nearby tree with a hollow thud.

“A straggler?” The question was moot, but Storm, who was already alerted to the danger and running back, allowed his blades to slip back into his hands and duly slipped to the ground to avoid a third arrow. “Who now? I’m getting fucking-“

Whatever else he had been prepared to say dissipated like cloud amongst the wind as a fourth arrow flashed from the treeline and struck the mud ahead of him. The ageing wizard took a staggering step forward, then another, before loosing a vicious bolt of lightning in the general vicinity of the arrows’ origin. The smell of charred wood and ozone hung on the air as the blindly cast electric tore into the darkness ahead, apparently striking nothing of note.

“It's Durandel, and I'm guessing these are his men. All former Reavers.” Shinsou finally found the time to growl to his friend, righting his balance and flicking out his sword. Storm had never particularly gotten to know the Raiaeran, but the Telgradian’s words told him all he needed to know in the moment. The rot had truly set in within the Brotherhood ranks.

Low, rumbling fog began to roll across the treeline, carried by a fell wind that snuffed out the still burning campfire as if it were a mere candle-flame. The only light now came from the white moon hanging unnaturally large and heavy overhead, but it did not burn through the conjured mist, instead only illuminating its fringes and ethereally bending around it.

“I was hoping to give you both quick deaths. Probably more than you both deserve, out of the little respect I have left for you.”

It wasn’t so much the silky elven voice that grated on Shinsou’s nerves as the words. Another of his supposed friends had turned on him, which was bad enough, but on top of the treachery, the sheer arrogance was too much. A million emotions bubbled to the surface of the usually stoic Telgradian.

“Don’t lecture me about respect.” Shinsou snorted into the grey, his eyes scouring the fog for who he now knew was Durandel, “Not when you're betraying everyone who ever gave a shit about you. Why are you doing this?!"

Almost instantly, the fog rolled away at the edge of the clearing and in its place stood the elf. Two narrowly slit, ocean blue eyes peered at them; their whites smouldering with barely suppressed power. Shinsou immediately noticed that Durandel’s physical form had changed since the last time they had met: the impossibly beautiful musculature of the Raiaeran race seemingly twisted into a sad, wiry and blackened thing. His weapon, a longbow that seethed in icy shadow, whistled forlornly in the wind.

"Why am I doing this, you ask? I have a better question. What choice did you leave me? If you cared so much for those people, where were you two when Arius came to Whitevale? When he burned the women and children alive in their homes?!" The Raiaeran responded, a note of emotion tinging his cracked voice. "I'll tell you where. Nowhere to be seen."

“You ignorant fuck. Are you dense?" The Telgradian's nostrils flared and skin bristled at the elf's retort. "We gave everything to stop him at Whitevale, and before we got a chance to kill him he flung us all over the fucking planet. It took weeks to get back, and when we did, everything had been replaced with debris and corpses. Your job was to mind the shop, but you were nowhere to be seen. So, what is all this? Insurrection? Why did you let everyone die?"

"I didn't." The elf's reply sounded somewhat forlorn. "I negotiated with Arius; in return for letting a number of us live, and giving me some of his power, I would stop you both from interfering with his plan. The others are safe, but I couldn't save everyone. That's not on me; that was the cost of your weakness."

Without waiting for the his words to extinguish, the fog thickened once more. Then, there was a snapping sound as Durandel immediately loosed a magical barrage of ethereal arrows from his spectral bow. They danced through the air like puppets on strings, synchronising their movements perfectly despite the tight quarters.

Only when he was close enough to see the shimmer of the arcane arrow shafts was Shinsou able to react. Tapping into the well of his augmentations, he instinctively ducked the arrow from the left, evaded another by leaping backwards half a step, and pre-empted the third by lashing out with his sword to destroy it. The manoeuvre bought him the precious two seconds needed for the incantation.

I'm going to turn your little coming out party into a funeral.

Ten, and then twenty, spears of pulsating dark matter burst into life between the Telgradian man and his corrupted opponent. They lingered for only a moment before arcing through the fog towards Durandel, bursting around him and burying him in a marbled black and purple splendour.

A moment passed before a voice spoke out across the fog.

“Too predictable.”

The elf was alive. Shinsou couldn’t see him through the fog, but could sense it, and cursed as he realised what had happened. As he had previously learnt the hard way, Durandel was notoriously difficult to hit because he could separate into a corporeal body and a physical body; effectively producing an autonomous doppleganger. And that was saying nothing of whatever enhancements he had received from Arius.

Even so, Shinsou wasn’t worried. His act of defiance a moment earlier had used one of the more predictable spells in his arsenal, one that Durandel had seen many times, but the Telgradian’s hand had always been played close to his chest. His most powerful techniques were always kept from public displays, so much so that even his true friend Storm Veritas had only witnessed a handful of them. Thus, even before the failed Enpera Kurohitsugi died down, even before Durandel had started moving again within the fog, Shinsou had made up his mind.

Raising his with a flick of his wrist along its silken cord, his body held low and muscles tensing with the effort, he turned and uttered to his friend next to him.

“If you can distract him for thirty seconds, he’s a dead man. Unless you kill him first, of course.”

The last thing Storm saw, only moments after he nodded and darted through the fog, were the white whorls of Enpera’s arcane power.

“Hakai.”

[Storm Veritas]

"Oh, Durandel... you should have said something."

Storm had no honest clue who the shadowy figure was that had led the failed ambush in the woods, but this stranger's sanctimony was enough to drive a resolution in the wizard to offer him an escort to the next plane. To presume that Storm or Shinsou had abandoned Whitevale was false and baseless, and though there was merit in the logic (as they had quite literally vanished into thin air), the supposition was insulting. Whitevale had represented effort - a geniune, honest effort - of the tandem to lead a city into profitability, health, and wealth. Trade had flourished, exchange rates freed of the onerous tariffs that Radasanth had imposed, and the people of the little town had begun to import technology, fashion, and security to a town that was previously forgotten by time. To imply that the Brotherhood would be so callous, careless, and more importantly fucking stupid to walk away from the generational wealth they were producing was insanity.

Shinsou had asked for thirty seconds; Storm had another plan altogether. The best way to kill a spider in the house was to burn the house to the ground; the magician's prowess afforded such assurances. Without a look, a smirk, or a clever quip, Veritas stepped quickly and clapped his hands, sending a massive blast of electromagnetic energy hurtling towards Durandel.

"WHooo, Shiiii...!

Frustratingly, only a few buttons and a belt buckle blasted backwards from a tuft of fog. The elven enemy had moved nearly as quickly as Mephisto seemed to, planting a seed of doubt that this foe may possess the ability to manipulate time as well. The blast should have torn him in half; perhaps the haste to execute him led to a careless execution by the graying traveler. Durandel had vanished in a scare, but his sinister laughter whispered behind Storm just as quickly. In a flash, down came a weapon - some blue-hued long dagger made of a material that was decidedly NOT metal - and it was caught in the hilt of Veritas' dagger, which burnished a smile from the lithe wizard.

"Not bad, old human." A light cackle was followed by a kick, and Duradel struck Storm in the left shoulder, separating the two with a vicious blow that had nearly missed striking the head of the Brotherhood's elder statesman. The kick had knocked him back a full yard, but for damage had only managed to further infuriate Storm Veritas.

Enough of this bullshit. You're no Mephisto. You're not that fast.

Another kick came at his right shoulder, but Storm was ready now. He moved with the speed of a predatory cat, spinning effortlessly about his own right foot in a low crouch. His left arm struck out violently, feeling the blade of his freshly-sharpened kris dagger slice through the inner thigh of the elf with a feeling of merely slight tension. This was a deep wound; if he had managed to catch the artery on Durandel's inner leg, it would likely prove fatal.

Without stopping his spin, Storm fired his left leg upwards, striking the elf in the chest and knocking him from his feet. The heel hit a light armor breastplate with a satisfying Smack sound, and the pressure from the chet helped Storm retain his balance. He spun to his feet, both daggers in his hands, poised as the viper to strike the deathblow.

Wait on the finish. Not your kill.

As furious as Durandel had made the wizard, something white and terrible was glowing inside his friend. Shinsou had conjured a hellfire that needed a home, and Storm was only too happy to oblige. Driving his left foot into the soft earth, he leapt back from the toppled Durandel, his eyes still fixed on the invasive species, a mouse before the cat.

"Have at it."

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

Thin strands of moonlight still struggled to penetrate through the heavy curtain of conjured mist but Shinsou had carefully followed each and every movement and counter movement within the grey. As a blustering wind of arcane energy continued to erupt from underneath him, the Telgradian closed his eyes, a wry smile etched on his visage. He knew that Storm could have easily killed Durandel at a moment of his choosing, but instead the electromancer had chosen to show his Telgradian friend a courtesy and respect the lithe magician offered few others.

It would be his kill, and it would not go unappreciated.

Shinsou’s golden eyes flashed open as the wind abated, sending a clear shockwave through the clearing. His breathing was laboured and heavy, and his body was bathed in a cold feverish sweat. There was always a cost of channelling as much power as he could from the Hakai, and it never got easier; his head pounded as if a percussive instrument of the gods themselves had been beaten within its taut confines. But despite this, he was ready to unleash it all.

From the perspective of the ground, the true magnitude of Durandel’s folly was now beginning to dawn upon the elf. He could not last. His blackened flesh showed a number of deep cuts and grazes, and against Storm he had not been quick enough to guard. In the face of Shinsou’s closely guarded Hakai release, his own power was much too weak, even with Arius’s gifted enhancements. Even if he survived all of this, the elf’s enemies would be too numerous. He sensed, rather than saw, the noose gradually tightening around him. There was no more room for manoeuvre.

But…he would get up. Through sheer determination and pure willpower alone, step by bloody step, inch by bloody inch, he dragged his beaten body up from the soil, and his bow to his side. Inhaling deeply, there was a brief respite as Shinsou stood off for a moment, knowing his prey was cornered and ripe for the taking. It was not much of a break, to be sure.

“Arius is not going to Tylmerande, you know. He’s searching for something to the west of it. But I don’t care anymore, about him, or you. None of you will ever kill what I stood for, even if you kill ME!” He muttered the words almost in resignation, before desperately unleashing a torrent of shadowflame arrows from his bow towards where Shinsou was poised. As the smoke cleared, the elf’s expression turned forlorn; his attack had disintegrated into dust. The bolts had been cut to ribbons in a single devastating strike by the Telgradian, who lowered the legendary Enpera to his side as the purple remnants that comprised them dissolved on its cold edge.

"Shut up! I've had enough of your babbling." Shinsou, breathing heavily, snapped, “Pretending like you stood for something noble. It was always only about you. That’s the thing I most despise, and I'm fucking done with it."

Beside him, Storm watched on. Durandel muttered something unintelligible but decidedly angry in his native tongue, his expression that of a pouty child.

Enough was enough.

Welcome to oblivion, you miserable piece of shit.

Four walls of light suddenly washed upwards around Durandel through the darkness, dazzling and disorienting, before converging as one to envelop the Raiaeran traitor fully in a pulsating orb of pure energy. The spell wrought havoc on the magically-cast fog, casting a bright flash into the high trees and recessed parts of the clearing. Everything now blazed in molten pyres, alight with remnant white as a faint aroma akin to smouldering rubber persisted.

Backdraft wafted through the limp strands of Shinsou’s hair as he clenched his palm into a fist.

“Enpera Shiroihitsugi.”

At the touch of his words, the white sarcophagus woven about the engulfed Raiaeran spawned giant, lance shaped appendages that protruded from its outer shell, and with an almighty crackkkkkkk, each spear suddenly inverted, plunging into the core of the tomb so deep and violently that it sent splintered shards of gravitational energy fizzing through the shadows. The force of the impact alone snapped some of the trees behind the spell in half.

Somehow, the Telgradian and Storm suffered only with being dumped onto the cooler ground by the resultant pulse. They got to their feet in time to witness the remnants of Shiroihitsugi smashing apart; splashes of purifying white flame taking life among the dead grasses and leaves upturned by the monstrosity’s power, their light mingling with the cloud of spectral dust that comprised Durandel’s remains.

“…What's that bastard looking for...?” Shinsou panted, trying to get his words out as his legs failed him. Arcane energy, sour like raw citrus, still flowed through his body. Thick air from the dissipating magical assault pushed back against him, clinging to his skin, and the world slowed to a dark blur as the Telgradian passed out in front of the electromancer.

[Storm Veritas]

Gods almighty, ever hear of a fucking -sword-?

Storm presumed he had set himself up for this when he allowed Shinsou to cast the obliteration spell. In all their years, the wizard had never actually seen Shinsou cast all of these foreign sounding incantations, and he suspected the powerful attack would finish this brazen, crafty intruder. What he had failed to envision, as things would turn out, would be the complete vaporization of Durandel. Walls of white energy raised from seemingly random angles and positions, energy raging about the forest floor before an explosion knocked the tandem back some ten feet. Storm was instinctively hovering, his metallic soles pulsed from the ground by a reflexive magnetic field he had generated to buffer his fall. Shinsou had hit the ground a bit harder, and scrambled to his feet as the wizard rose. The fire in the grasses surrounded what was probably once Durandel in a horrific white blaze. The smell was still acrid and horrible.

Even foreign superwitchcraft smells the same when it comes to burning flesh.

Shinsou had posed a question before passing out; for his limitless power Storm couldn't help but smirk at the lack of discretion. After all this time, the Telgradian still couldn't pass up the chance to conjur something over his pay-grade and wind out no more energetic than a child's stuffed frog toy. Amused, the elder statesman pulled Shinsou's left arm around his own shoulders to lift the limp body, genuinely amazed at how lifeless Vaan Osiris had been left. In a few sturdy steps, the ultra-powerful was propped against a felled log near the fire, his body warming as Veritas scanned about the area.

"Not much use in trying to cover our tracks now. If Mephisto sent this clown to mark our position, safe to say that it's mission-fucking-accomplished with the bright lights, big-city show you just put on." He glanced down tauntingly at his friend, unsure if the fatigued swordsman could hear the taunts. It made no difference either way.


It has to be Tylermande. He's getting a feel for our arrival, but it has to be Tylermande.

Tylermande was the first place Storm had been introduced to Arius Mephisto. A gifted portal- crafting wizard, Mephisto had been a deft and promising star within the Brotherhood, until his power play. It was in Tylermande where Shinsou had been shot in a failed assassination, and the brazen mastermind just failed in finishing the job before Storm could intervene. What the electromancer had failed to learn, it turned out, was the true ability of Mephisto. Using some totemic ring, the bald conniver had acquired the ability to manipulate time. Seemingly invincible, Storm was still unsure of how powerful this ability was. Could Mephisto freeze time, making him invincible? Little was clear.

Grimacing at the prospect, Storm recalled resolve in the form of the little spoon arisen from the ashes of Whitevale. Perhaps Mephisto would kill them both, putting a sour punctuation on a wonderful, disappointing journey. Perhaps the Brotherhood would rise once more, finally seizing vengeance on their most devastating enemy. Either way, the port town was the only destination.

Sitting on a log by the warm campfire, Storm ignored both his close friend at his side and the flaming wreckage of death and despair about him. The aches in his aging body slowly quieted as he slowly stretched his hips, knees, and back. His power was returning to him. The orange fire lit his face warmly as night settled about the tandem once again, an odd quiet in the wake of devastation. He spoke to the body of Shinsou, who appeared to be stirring in the warmth.

"Rest up, my friend. Tomorrow we make for Tylermande, and it's the end of the rainbow for Arius."

Where everything had begun, they would end it.