Dar Saben

[Karuka]

((Closed))

Donnalaich had proven a beautiful city, but Karuka found herself more than glad to see the spires of Talmhaidh peeking over the hill at her. Dheathain had been nothing but bad luck from the day she'd first set foot in it, between ancient portals and vicious branches of gangs. She was going to hop aboard the first boat out and...

Searing pain split through her temples, a herald to a vision, and she stumbled off the road, clutching at her head.

Massive explosions shook the city hidden in the trees, and uncontrollable fires started to rage. Tense, quiet panic shook its Draconian citizens as they fled into the swamps, fending off the swarms of monsters that prowled Fiorar. Smoke clogged the entire city, and wind carried the ash borne by the ancient trees, blotting out the light of the sun and creating an artificial night in the city. She could smell it, intense and acrid, she could feel it stinging her eyes and invading her lungs, threatening to choke her.

Two Draconians prowled through the ruins of the once sturdy city. The first carried a huge spear, its bright blue head shining through the darkness. He emerged from the smoke, a dark and terrible figure. His scales shone blue like the depths of the midnight sky from the reflection of his weapon, and his face was set with more resolve than Karuka had ever seen, the scar across his left eye making him seem even more ominous. Somehow, she knew, he was the one ultimately responsible for what was happening.

The other burst from the flames like he'd been born from them, scales shining from the heat and sheer fury as the light shone off his massive silver sword. He was shorter than the other, and a little less muscular, but the sheer force of his movements more than made up for it. Any brute would cower before him...any brute save the one that stared him down now.

"TRAITOR!" he roared at the blue, face twisted in a rage more fearsome than death itself as cords bulged from his sturdy neck. "How DARE you, Eorion?"

The other seemed unperturbed, standing his ground and holding his spear before him. "You trusted me once, Darroch. I know that you didn't want to act in order to spare some of your people, but I cannot allow your inaction to result in our extinction."

"I am the Ceann Cath. It is MY decision to make!"

Eorion nodded calmly. "And now you will more likely choose to act, since it is the only way to preserve our people."

"But it will not preserve you," the red growled, charging with his sword leveled before him...

The vision ended, leaving Karuka exhausted and drained, but still she braced her staff against the ground, fighting the pounding headache and the watery feeling in her legs. She hated the visions, hated that she had no way to stop them, and hated when they showed her things she could not change.

Like Hel the Draconians would let me waltz into their city and find the person who's going to do this, she mused to herself. And who knows exactly how many Eorions there are in Suthainn? Then again, that scar is revealing...but maybe he's still in the Ceann Cath's good graces. More trouble than it's worth.

It was always easier to keep going than to start, but Karuka wanted to be out of Dheathain as soon as possible, maybe head back to Corone, where the war among the continents had not yet taken hold. She'd run into her fair share of trouble in Corone, but at least it didn't suck you through time and space in some places. She wanted some good, normal trouble for once.

And screw vigilantism.

The sun had been pleasant earlier in the day, but now that she drew nearer the coast city, the air became muggier and smelled more distinctly of smoke and salt. It was a truly oppressive experience, although Karuka likely wouldn't have noticed it had she not still been vision sick. Little animals scurried around through the thick green grass so that they wouldn't be caught. Every step brought her nearer her escape, and everything she saw reminded her more and more of Ireland.

Perhaps that was one of the things that made it hard for her to stay in Dheathain. It was far too much like the home she'd lost for good.

As she entered the city, she did a quick, cursory scan of the Bounty Board. It had been what had gotten her in trouble during her first visit to Dheathain, sending her and a woman named Witchblade after a group of missing Fae archaeologists. Now, though, there was a massive "Wanted" poster in the center, and the face portrayed made Karuka take back a step.

It was the blue-scaled Draconian from her vision. Eorion dar Saben.

As she reached out to touch it, a nearby Draconian looked at her. "You're the one that's been taking out gangs, here and in Donnalaich. This bastard's a necromancer, sent a group of zombies to attack a small village in our borders. The bounty just came out today, set by the Ceann Cath himself, and the rewards are good...if you can get past his minions and out fight him."

Karuka heard the pitch, but only paid enough attention to it to understand that whatever it was that this Eorion dar Saben was planning, he hadn't had enough time to do it. She didn't know what any of it was all about... but she did know that it would inflict too much suffering to allow to happen. No one had the right to do that to his own people.

No one.

The red-head turned to the man who was trying to fill her in, a somber green Draconian that stood more than a head taller than her, and about twice as broad. In his eyes, she saw something she'd seen in many eyes in her time on Althanas: a thinly veiled, cold fear. This dar Saben had the Draconian afraid, and on any other day, that would be more than enough to tell any common sense Karuka may have had that a petite human lass had no business mucking about in it.

Today, however...she saw the chance to change the outcome of her vision. That wasn't an opportunity she got every time she saw the future.

"Where can I find him?" she asked.

[Izvilvin]

Fiorair’s air drifted with the lazy green mist attributed to the swamp. Humid, the atmosphere tied fabric to skin, took vital bodies and made them lazy, tired. The Bandit Brotherhood existed in this place out of necessity, not desire of comfort, and the miserable expressions on the faces of the members showed it. The group had only recently reformed in the swamp, and though the weather and the conditions of the area suited nobody, the low profile they were awarded was somewhat of a universal boon among them.

As far as comfort did go, the organization had a high number of comfortable beds and a steady supply of food from a source few knew of. They had built structures of bone and flesh from the fauna, created a sparsely populated community, and though the region sucked life from its inhabitants, morale was higher than even a month before.

Izvilvin wouldn’t know. It was only his second week as a member of the Bandit Brotherhood, having joined as a means of protection. The drow, hunted by Step assassins since his departure from the Corone spy agency, needed to be as far away from civilization as he could, while still having allies to fall back on. Try as he might, he couldn’t immerse himself into the collective mindset of thievery and profit – all he cared about was being safe until he had a plan to move forward. When the Brotherhood set out for a raid he remained back, pulling his weight through manual labor. With time, and through keen ears, the drow began to learn that some weren’t viewing it as enough.

The Brotherhood’s many perks included a strong tie to underground syndicates and black markets, cheap and basic organizations perfectly unlike espionage-based groups like Step. Important bounties were routed through the Brotherhood and given to members like tasks – the bounty hunter kept half the reward, and the Brotherhood took the other half for the organization. Thinking his talents rested outside of architecture, Izvilvin had brought his interest to Molotov’s attention.

Now, as he gazed upon the face of his bounty, crudely drawn on the yellow fabric of Dheathain paper, he wondered if it had been a wise decision. Eorion dar Saben looked and sounded the part of a Draconian warlord. The Brotherhood did a good job of gathering as much information as they could before passing on the bounty, but something about the situation seemed off to the drow. He was a relatively new member to the group, but was given a monster of a bounty for his first.

Even more peculiarly, it was written that the Draconians themselves, the Ceann Cath itself had posted the bounty. With no information about Eorion besides his appearance, name and the fact that he was a necromancer printed on the page, Izvilvin knew he had to travel to Suthainn and get a lead of some sort. It smelled rotten, like the disemboweled carcass of a setup.

He inched to the edge of his bed, bare legs planted firmly on the floor as he considered it, a hand absent-mindedly brushing the clumped hair from his face. A concerned sigh escaped his lips as he finally looked away, folding the paper into a small square and rising. Suthainn was to the East, he knew, and wasn’t more than an hour or two away by boat

[Karuka]

The roiling waves of humidity and stench of decaying foliage were not unfamiliar to Karuka...but neither did they make her journey a pleasant one. All that aside, the Dheath jungles were stocked with hungry predators, and a human is meat just as much as a rabbit. The unwary who crossed the verdant threshold condemned themselves, and were lucky if they ever saw what killed them.

It was a world where only the very tough and very aware could hope to eek out a living...in other words, perfect for the Draconian Karuka was searching for...and an exceedingly miserable experience for a human.

She was searching mainly by instinct, as the only hint to his whereabouts she'd been given was a rather large area. If she didn't get lucky somehow, she could walk right past him and never know he was there. At least if he saw her and decided to ambush her, she'd have some measure of warning. The "birthright" that plagued the women in her line was seemingly good for something.

I can't rely on luck.

There was no guarantee that luck would give her Eorion dar Saben...in fact, it was much more likely that she'd fail to find him if she didn't think of some sort of strategy. But how was she supposed to think of one in this miserable bog?

With a frustrated sigh, the redhead plopped down at the foot of a tree, wearily rubbing the sweat from her face and taking a few sips of tepid water. She didn't know the first place to look, and there was way too much cover for anyone experienced in traversing these ancient trees.

How did I find things before? In the past, she'd usually been able to find what she sought with little trouble. Mainly, she'd used her pendulum, but it no longer worked, so she dismissed trying that old method out of hand. But there were times when I didn't rely on it...what did I use?

Swatting at bugs, Karuka thought back to one adventure where she'd barely taken the lodestone necklace from its rightful place and put it to work...the time she'd visited the Liviol Sanctum. She hadn't needed it for some reason...but it was so long ago...what had the reason been? Was she just not remembering using it because it had been so reflexive she just did it?

Probably...but there was something...the sound.

That was it. For those who knew how to listen, each land had a cry of its own, a cry that modulated and changed in different areas depending on what was happening. Dheathain in general rumbled with barely restrained energy; it was a land both ancient and young, still firey and wild thanks to the care its people took of it.

Leaning her head back against the tree, Karuka closed her eyes and "listened." There was the wild, surging call she knew from her first visit to the land; the roar of indomitability and the murmur of danger...but not the muffled awe that spoke of a truly great force lurking in the foliage. He wasn't there.

When Karuka opened her eyes, a completely new world greeted them. Where once there had been ferns and trees rising up out of the shadows, now there were faintly glowing objects shaped like trees and ferns. Slightly brighter were the vast numbers of insects dotting everything, a small lizard was brighter still, and when she looked at her arm, she was incredibly bright.

This is weird...

Still, it gave her a new, much needed tool in her search.

Hours later

A big, brilliant figure dominated a tree just ahead, and Karuka shook her head, trying to return her vision to normal. When it cooperated, she saw him....the deep blue scales and the scars that identified the would-be destroyer of the Draconian stronghold. The-redheaded lass took a deep breath before making her way up the massive tree to stand in the presence of one of the most formidable men she'd ever seen.

"Eorion dar Saben?" she was met with a cold, calm stare and a grim nod. "S' mise Karuka dar Faylinn," she introduced herself, before continuing in Gaelic. "And I have come to stop you."

[Tainted Bushido]

Closed by request.