Snuff the Last Candle

[Valentine]

The ground here was rugged and uneven, difficult for even the most experienced hiker to travel, but a certain figure strode through it so easily, he looked more like he was strolling through Corone than bashing through Alerar's wilderness. Power was evident in every step that he made. Posture was perfect, shoulders were arched backwards to display the strength that constantly swam through his body. Long silver hair danced almost jovially in the light breeze that blew through it, giving it the life that it had lacked in recent times. Kadarus had been walking like this for hours. It was not that he was lost, he knew the way back to all the ports and all the major cities, it was just that he had ventured into this part of Alerar of his own free will and now it had come time for him to return to civilization.

Kadarus' body ached, his mind suffering a minor migraine as he remembered the reason why he had come to this forsaken part of the world in the first place. He was looking for something and he had found him, or at least he had thought he did. Kadarus could not help but feel disappointed when he realized that his fingers had come close to grasping the treasure they craved, but had fallen short when the realization dawned upon him that he had been tricked. He had followed to breadcrumbs, in search of his only goal and he had come out with nothing except more clues to the next wild goose chase.

Fingers clenched into a tightly wound fist as the frustration continued to build within his body. The time between each footstep became shorter and heavy boots slammed into the ground harder, crushing anything that was unlucky enough to be caught underneath. Kadarus was starting to get angry. He had been calm ever since he had started moving, because he had forced himself to concentrate on getting himself back to Etheria Port so he could leave Alerar behind him. But now, the only thoughts that were on his mind were those of disappointment, sending his self confidence ebbing away, replaced by the unfamiliar feeling of failure.

This continued for a while, his emotions only running stronger, before a hill appeared on the path forward, one that was rather steep and quite high. Kadarus scaled it without much effort, stopping short of the peak when the sounds of quick footsteps rang in his ears, taking his mind off himself and onto those sounds. Crouching to hide behind the peak of the hill, he poked his head upwards stealthily and saw them. Almost instantly, a gleeful sensation warmed his body, though his face showed no outward shift.

Around a hundred drow, were running across the landscape with battered weapons in one hand and a half-dead comrade in the other. They were survivors of the war that Kadarus himself had played a large part in, the one that he had organized for the ultimately vain chase for his goal. He stood up now, knowing that even if they spotted him, they were of no threat. That did not mean that they were completely useless however.

Up until this moment, Kadarus had nothing to do, which meant that he had time to think. Of all the muscles permanently taut and ready for action in his body, the brain was the one that he liked using the least. A few of his more favored ones, in his right arm, sent his fingers swooping down for the handle of his katana and pulled it with little effort from its sheathe. In the moonlight, the murderous edge of Valentine was even more beautiful than in the day, its shine so much more prominent in darkness.

It was time for the drow to do something useful. And as far as Kadarus was concerned, there was no higher purpose than serving as prey in the hunt of the Valentine Bleeder.

Initiation for Aud. Closed to Cyrus and Slayer

[Cyrus the virus]

The ring beckoned to Luc even over the dull roar of the rift. Over the rolling plains of Alerar it called, growing more and more apparent the closer Luc came to it. It was one of several rings associated with the group of Audeamus. It was there membership card, so to speak, granting power to the member worthy of wearing it. Luc's own allowed his magic to grow more powerful when blood was spilled.

Like a sixth sense, it was, the ability to know where magical items were. The Audeamus Ring prodded him from the inside, like a dull headache, growing more rapid the closer they got. How the rift to Dan's world opened, and how the ring reappeared on Althanas's plane, Luc had no clue. All that mattered was that it wasn't far, now, and that they needed to reclaim it. Perhaps, as some said, fate was playing it's part.

"It can't be more than a few miles north of here," he said to himself. His external sense of hearing picked up, and the muffled beckoning of the ring retreated. I could easily find it within the hour and be on my way out of here. I've always found Alerar so... unappealing.

His mind wandered to Eluriand, the Raiaeran capital. Luc had almost claimed the city as his own, once upon a time. He'd have ruined it, made the beautiful city into a better reflection of those haughty elven twits. Those shining arches and fine marble bridges were too beautiful for such an ugly people.

He walked near the edge of Ettermire, as far as he could tell, in a forest of dark trees and black soil. The sun was low in a clear sky, as it was getting late in the day. There was no wildlife to be found, but a gentle breeze kept the mage cool. His legs plowed through branches and shrubs.

"Always chasing something," he said, as the forest gave way to open plain.

[Valentine]

The drow did not notice what was upon them until it was too late.

They had heard the scurrying of pebbles and stones as Kadarus sprinted down the rocky hill, but they had ignored it, thinking it being made by the comrades behind them. Only when they heard the sound of a blade being unsheathed shriek through the air like a bird of prey, did they realize what was among them. Each and every head turned in the right direction, pupils dilating as the fearsome sight slapped itself straight onto their retinas. The Valentine Bleeder was in full flight now, and no more than twenty feet away. His silver hair flew backwards in the wind, highlighting just how fast he was running. His katana was prominent in his right hand, its fine blade whistling through the air, just like the metal sheathe in Kadarus' other hand did. His legs bent as he crouched down for a moment, before channeling the momentum of his run through his spring like thighs to launch himself into a powerful jump forward.

The drow were so dumb struck and shocked that they could barely move. The Valentine Bleeder looked more like he was flying than jumping, such was the height that he got on his jump. They did not have much more time to think though, for he landed straight in the middle of the party, his katana and iron sheathe swinging and slicing with offensive slashes and bludgeons before his feet even touched the ground. Three drow fell dead before most of their companions thought to draw their weapons.

The Kel'Arkan, refugees and losers of a war, had not been in any mood to fight not more than a few seconds ago, but the mere sight of their brethren falling to the ground was more than enough to motivate them to draw weapons and avenge them. They did not know who this enemy was that they were fighting, only that he was their enemy now.

One drow wavered though. Like the rest of his team mates at the rear of the party, he had drawn his weapon and charged forward for battle. Only instead of continuing forward, he paused and eventually stopped, eyes transfixed on the ground as the rest of his comrades roared forward. He did not see any of them pass him by, he did not feel any of them pull him along. His red eyes were locked on a ring, half embedded in the pebbles of the Alerar dirt.

Without a second though, he reached down, digging his fingers into the ground and pulled it out before laying it in his left palm. He brushed the pebbles and sand away from the ring, so he could examine it in greater detail. Despite its rather dull dark grey color, it was so bright and obvious to him, as if it were glowing and calling for his attention. The drow did not think at this moment. He simply watched as his right hand gravitated towards the ring, his ring finger touching the rim of it before his left hand pushed the ring all the way down his finger.

It was then that he felt its power. Only, not in the way that most did when they found a magical artifact. The drow felt its energy surge through him, but it was not at his command like he expected. It was forcing its way through his body, roughly battering and slashing at every thing that it encountered as it swam through his insides. It was like a thousand angry orcs were rampaging through the villages of his innards, pillaging and burning everything to the ground. The drow fell to his knees, without strength to stand any longer.

He lifted his right hand and stared in shock and awe at the ring, tightly wound around his finger. It was really glowing brightly now, any hints of dark grey gone. It was more like a sun now, with light emitting from it so bright that it blinded him. His face suddenly felt very hot, then it felt nothing.

The drow's body fell to the ground shortly after, lifeless. His face bore no expression, for the skin and all its features had been burnt from his face. Any form of flesh was gone and only the skull of a foolish, greedy drow watched as his brethren were being slaughtered.

[Cyrus the virus]

West of Alerar's edge, in a rocky plain that stretched out for miles, Luc felt the fierce call of the Audeamus ring. Like a fire in his mind it struck, and the mage hunched over, clutching his head. Hissing breaths forced their way through his clenched teeth. The ring's assault against its unworthy wearer was a powerful magical one, and Luc had been unprepared.

Images flooded his mind, of fire swallowing stone, of soldiers marching along a path of corpses. Did the Audeamus ring have a mind of its own? No, he thought. It was revealing its legacy to him, a history of war. Luc was being exposed to the ring's history, but it was a side effect, not the ring's will. At least that's what the mage believed.

Eventually he overcame the sudden onslaught and regained his bearings. He was close now, he knew. The plains below him cracked and rose, lifting him onto an earthen platform that flew forward, carrying a crouched Luc over the ground much faster than he could have run.

He rode up the ledge of a rise, one side of two cliffs that eventually formed a valley below. The ring's call grew louder, until he finally could hear the sounds of battle. Allowing the platform of earth to crumble and fall, Luc landed nimbly on his feet and moved toward the edge. In the pathway were scores of drow, a single human, and presumably, the Audeamus ring.

Luc watched, but not for long. The lone human was fighting the entire group of drow, showcasing impressive skill and remarkable stupidity. A mere moment passed before he made his decision.

Focusing on the opposite cliff, Luc melted the rock near its base. Pebbles tumbled down its slope for a moment, before the cliff itself began to crumble and fall. Massive boulders tore through the air, riding along a wave of dirt as the stone threatened to bury the drow.

It wasn't enough to fill the passageway, but Luc imagined he could catch a great amount of the elves by surprise, and in the process cut a line between the front and back rows. With the ring calling to him as clearly as it was, he could easily find it in the rubble.

[Valentine]

His body was perpetually in motion, dancing around the battle with such ease and flexibility it appeared he was a marionette on strings. This was Kadarus Salidan in battle, this was the Valentine Bleeder at his best. The drow on the other hand, were certainly not anywhere near their top form, having just recovered from a rugged war, and their efforts towards an apparently vain goal showed. Their strikes were sluggish and clumsy, easily avoided and counterattacked. They were tired, some were injured and the thrill of battle quickly wore off when none of their slices and slashes came close to landing.

Kadarus was in his element, his katana and metal sheathe moving with such ease that they appeared to be frolicking in his hands, until they struck the dark flesh of the drow and crunched bones or carved deadly wounds. The Valentine Bleeder had moved and maneuvered towards the right flank of the Kel'Arkan force and was constantly moving backwards, so that his back would never be vulnerable to attack. His formidable strength and superior speed meant that he was more than capable of parrying their attacks and even landing a few fatal blows on any drow that got too aggressive.

But once again, the samurai had let his emotions cloud his judgment. He had charged headlong against great numbers and his powerful arms were tiring as they pumped and swung in the air in defense. The drow from the front and back were also starting to consolidate into the main force, meaning that more blades were coming his way. As the samurai's morale fell, the morale of the drow increased. As the drow got to attack more, they realized that there was a chance of vanquishing this one before long. An aggressive blade was the first to break Kadarus' defense and sliced across his cheek, cutting into his mouth and drawing blood. He winced in pain, continuing in his defense for a brief moment before he using one of his abilities.

Even though he was a creature of violence and emotion, Kadarus certainly knew when coherence and a clever mind had its advantages. Thankfully, he had at least temporarily satiated his bloodlust with his first few kills, enough for him to think coherently for at least a moment. He had used his teleportation ability to teleport twenty feet behind, away from the drow for now. It didn't take them long to see him though and chase with renewed vigor now that they knew their opponent was on the retreat.

Kadarus slid backwards into a defensive stance, preparing his two weapons for an assault of drow forces but instead was greeted by the sight of giant boulders rolling down the side of the plain. The gigantic spheres of destruction crushed all the drow that were unfortunate enough to get caught in their wake and sent the rest into a state of fervent confusion. Kadarus, unsure of what was happening, did something that was almost uncharacteristic. He concentrated for a moment and teleported another twenty feet backwards, retreating out of caution for fear of being caught in the boulders' path.

As soon as the teleport landed him in his new location, Kadarus felt something. He knew not what it was; he had not felt anything like it before. It was like a craving, an urge that called out to him. His eyes thought of scouring the area, but instead they descended to the ground just a few feet in front of him, almost as if they knew the source of the call to the samurai. A skull, still smoking and charred, attached to a body that still looked remarkably alive, on the outside at least. The right hand of the corpse was raised, with all but the ring finger curled into an incomplete fist. Around the fourth finger was a dark grey ring and it was this small object that stole Kadarus' attention. Such was this effect on the samurai that he did not think twice about sheathing and securing his weapon to his waist so that he could bend down and pull the ring from the unlucky wearer's lifeless hand and place it in his left palm.

His lifted his left hand as if it were a pedestal, with the small ring atop it the prize, so that his obsessive eyes could get a better view of it.

“I wonder...”

[Cyrus the virus]

Boulders, dirt, rubble. It all came tumbling down against itself as the cliffside collapsed, washing over dozens of the drow and swallowing them entirely. Dark clouds of dust wafted into the air, but were wiped away by a sudden, summoned gust of wind.

Luc stood triumphantly over the result, his cape wrapped around a leg by the wind. Hands on his hips, the mage scanned the narrow valley. Plenty of drow still scurried about, trying to deal with that single menace that whirled through the area. His skill was remarkable, but Luc was never one to be impressed by a swordslinger.

All the same, he found himself watching for longer than he'd anticipated. The ring still called, still burned itself into his mind. He shook himself free of the swordsman's mesmerizing dance and focused, realizing quickly - and just as Kadarus did - that the ring was just before the swordsman.

"That ring is someone else's property," he Whispered, his spell carrying his words to Kade's ear. "Place it on the ground and step away."

Luc stepped over the ledge of the cliff, falling a few feet before a gust of wind caught him and kept him afloat. Standing on a platform of rushing wind, Luc levitated down into the valley well out of reach of the drow, most of which were cut off from Kadarus's location now.

He landed firmly, boots planted into the rock-ridden soil and at least thirty feet away from the samurai.

[Valentine]

Everything around Kadarus became trivial for a moment. For that brief period of time, the entire world around him turned a dull black and white, while the ring in his hand stayed the same, the only color in a boring view. He could not help but stare at it. Then, without his mind’s beckoning, his right hand descended on it like a curious animal, unsure but definitely interested. The fourth finger on that hand meandered around the edge of the ring for a while, almost nervous to move further.

That sentiment did not last long though, for a feeling urged the samurai on and he lifted the ring with his left hand and pushed it all the way down the right ring finger. It was tight but strangely, as it reached the bottom of his digit, it became snug and comfortable. Kadarus’ eyes widened as energy swam through his body. It was not a surge of power, nor a force that meant to do him harm. It was an emotion that he felt, seemingly spread to him by the ring itself. It was a feeling that the samurai himself had not felt someone give him for a long time. It was a feeling of approval.

A loud twang in the air instantly stole his attention, derailing any trains of thought that he might have been having. It was the sound of a few bowstrings simultaneously being plucked backwards and then released. Kadarus didn’t have to turn his head to realize that several arrows were headed for his position. But his instincts dominated his mind and his body turned to face the projectiles soaring through the air, their heads perfectly on course for his chest. He didn’t need his battle intuition to tell him to move out of the way, but something in him told him the opposite – he didn’t need to move. So emphatic was this message that he believed it and stood his ground.

Half a second before the arrows would have made contact, they suddenly halted, arrows frozen in mid-air about half a foot above the samurai’s chest. He looked up at them, stationary in the air and plucked them out of the air one by one before throwing them to the ground at his sides. The drow warriors stared forward, bewildered. They looked around for a moment, noticing that their brethren had either fled or died. They didn’t need much convincing to join them by taking the former option.

Kadarus did not have the luxury of a retreat, not when he was the proud warrior that he was. But falling back was the last thing on his mind, even after a mysterious telepathic message rang in his head.

“Then come!” the samurai shouted, a challenge to his hidden enemy that boomed as loud as a lion's roar. “Come and claim what is yours!”