Lionheart (Ixian Knight Assignment)

[Arden]

Prologue

Arden Janelle’s prey was a strange beast. It moved swiftly, and at night, the descriptions throughout the city varied greatly. Some called it a dragon. Some described it like a winged rat, covered in spikes. Others screamed of demons, deities, and abominable undead.

“It would be easier if it was a demon,” Arden groaned.

From the moment he assigned to the case, the captain of the Ixian Knights regretted it. Though more than experienced in such matters, the foes he had slain before were familiar to him. He knew their weakness. He knew their purpose. He knew what they looked like.

“Don’t be silly,” Lillith chuckled. It was a light-hearted trill, contrary to the odious atmosphere in the docklands. “If it was just a demon, Sei wouldn’t have sent us.”

“Yes…well…” He grit his teeth. He fell silent, stared out across the still seas, and watched the moonlight dance across the waters.

They arrived at dusk, to prepare for the monster’s inevitable arrival. Rumour abound that it came from the sea, stalked the land for prey, and dragged victims back below the waves. Every morning, sailors reported finding bodies, mauled beyond recognition, as far north as the goblin coast shores.

“I will go to the palace, inform her majesty of our presence.” Lillith bowed, retreated, and turned on a geta. “She will want to know why ‘heroes’ are rampaging through the city at night, doing a better job than the guards.”

Arden chuckled, his intensity broken by his sister’s eternal optimism.

“Very well. When the others arrive, I will see to briefing them and then…,” he paused for thought. “I guess we just wait for the screams.” He frowned.

Lillith nodded stoically, rested a thumb in her belt, and disappeared in little time at all into the shadows. In her absence, the docks felt colder. The warmth she brought to the air was literal, as well as metaphorical. When she left, Arden finally felt able to breath. His sister was a mausoleum for the gods, and the weight she carried affected reality around her like a maelstrom.

“I just hope there’s not too many…,” he added meekly. He turned back to the sea.

The captain of the monster hunting team waited for his monster hunters, a silent statue on the shores of a city terrorised by The Manticore.

[Arden]

Lionheart (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6wi9H4qFwsQ)

http://fc06.deviantart.net/fs42/f/2009/089/5/8/Manticore_by_Flying_Fox.jpg


Closed to those recruited here (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?26013-Manticore-Hunting).

[Aurelianus Drak'shal]

Aurelius stubbed out his cigarette on the edge of the shipping crate, looking over the pair of men before him, serpentine eyes dancing between the two as they stared right back. The Anarchist sat before them, his bladed leather armour mostly hidden under the heavy, trademark coat. The dozens of buckles all over the item rattled in the wind, chiming with tinny, metallic rings. Reclining casually, he rested an arm on his upraised knee, the blades adorning it pressing sharply against his sleeve.

The taller of the two traders, Samael, muttered something imperceptible to his brother Harmin, who nodded his consent. Samael, his skin tanned and leathery from a life at sea, stroked his salt-and-pepper beard thoughtfully, looking over the four crates lying on the rough stones of the docks. Harmin, on the other hand, was much more interested in the shady figure before him; Aurelius was keeping his face hidden beneath the capotain perched on his head, the wide-brimmed hat (http://i636.photobucket.com/albums/uu84/Anarchist147/Aurshat_zpsccfa8ef0.jpg) just showing his smirk - a nasty cut still healing across his lips - as he waited on the smugg-- on the legitimate traders deciding on their deal. He had decided to keep his unmistakable quills and twin hydras tattooed across his scalp hidden while he conducted his business. Play it subtle, play it safe.

"You make sure we get the money we agreed on, and we'll get your shipment into Radasanth, friend," Harmin agreed, keeping his voice low despite the hustle and bustle of the docks, even at this time of the evening.

The salty water was already black even with the sun barely below the horizon, the salty waves lapping gently against the piers lining the stone-walled docks. A stiff breeze slithered in from the water, wrapping around the three men, ruffling the edges of the heavy tarp draped across Aurelianus' shipment. Dock-hands swarmed over the area, all hauling barrels on their shoulders, or loading the various fat-bellied merchant ships anchored there. They were working fast.. faster than they normally would have been. It was almost like they were in a hurry to be done with their work. It could have been simple impatience to get down to the pub for a pint of bub after their shift, but the warlock knew it was far from that simple. He could feel the heat of the busy men radiating off them in waves, the smell of their perspiration sharp in his keen nose, as they hauled crates, barrels and other materiel between the ships and warehouses ringing the waterside.

The tiefling pushed himself to his feet from the top of one of the crates, wincing slightly as he put weight on his left hand. He was still recovering from the events back in Knife's Edge (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?25769-I-ll-Punish-You-for-Pleasure), but after slipping a tidy bit of jink to a witch-doctor on his way out of Salvar, most of the cuts had at least closed; and the doses of healing salves and powders he'd sold Aurelius were taking care of some of the pain. He still ached though, especially with the salt-laced winds abrasively caressing him. The warlock gazed briefly down at his left hand, stifling a sneer as he once again marked the missing half of his ring finger. Pikin' rapiers, he thought with a snarl. But he took a deep breath to calm himself, feeling the sting of the sea-air in his nostrils.

Harmin, smoothing down his rough-spun tunic, nautical tattoos visible up and down his brawny arms, smiled with a mouthful of tobacco-stained teeth. He held out his hand to shake on the agreement.

"We 'ave a deal, lads," Aurelius smiled, shaking the man's hand firmly, feelings his calluses even through the fingerless gloves. "Now, I'll leave you to it; got other business to attend to while I'm in town."

With that, and another tip of his hat, the half-demon took his leave, wandering through the damp streets of Scara Brae. The salty, low-tide reek of the water permeated the air throughout the entire island nation as far as the Anarchist could tell; but in truth, he'd only passed through Scara Brae once or twice in his time on Althanas, some of the ships he'd travelled on docking there to unload or take on cargo. He had been here only a few days now, but already he knew half a dozen nice pubs, and one or two decent brothels. Aye, that's the real sights to see, he smirked with a chuckle to himself. He wandered along the cobble-stoned thoroughfares, passing one or two people along the way as they hurried home.

Still, there was another reason he'd found himself here besides the shipment he'd just sorted. He knew the reason the dock-workers had been so eager to leave, so skittish, and why the normally busy streets were all but deserted - He had been contacted a week or so ago, by one Arden Janelle. He had asked around and the chant held the bloke to be a warrior of the Ixian Knights. Aurelianus had some limited experience with them, but not much else to go on besides what people said. Janelle was, so they said, the leader of the so-called Monster Hunter team of the faction; so, when a letter had arrived at Aurelius' kip just North of Gisella, from said sod, offering him the chance to earn some coin as a mercenary, it didn't take a genius to add two and two together - the famed monster hunter's presence, and the jumpy attitudes of seasoned seamen... it pointed in only one direction.

There was a monster to be hunted here in Scara Brae.

It took only a short while to walk along the streets nearest the coast to reach the appointed destination. The tiefling looked up from the flowing script on the crumpled sheet of parchment, his head craning back as he tried to see the street name on one of the buildings flanking him to either side. Again, he was struck by how quiet it was compared to what the chant said this city was normally like - the only light came from gas lamps dotted down the streets at regular intervals, their light bouncing off the light mist sweeping in from the sea. He tilted the brim of his hat up and slid a cigarette from inside his coat, lighting it between his lips with a few quick puffs of thick smoke. Breathing out a stream of it, the plane-touched nodded absently. Yes, this was the place.

Another brief scan of his surroundings, and the half-breed marked the man standing alone at the edge of the water, his back to the Cager. Aurelianus let his snake-like eyes wander over the human before him, taking in everything of note in a heartbeat: the cloak, the multitude of blades, and the armoured suit. Just what one would expect of a man bearing the sobriquet of "Knight". A soft sneer twisted the corner of the insurrectionist's mouth, pulling the healing cut tight and drawing a small hiss of irritation. He would have been much more irked to realise he was rubbing his thumb across the truncated end of his finger.. it was becoming yet another habit.

Arden Janelle.

The cigarette still dangling between his pale lips, Aurelius shrugged his coat higher on his shoulders, the myriad spikes and barbs adorning his armour scraping along the inside of it. With another exhaled cloud dancing in the air before him, the breeze already dissipating it, he strolled closer to the man. Stopping just outside the range of the man's swords, Aurelianus tucked the letter away in an inner pocket before announcing his presence finally.

He cleared his throat, taking the smoke from between his lips with his left hand, his right staying under his coat. Ever the paranoid one, his fingertips rested lightly on the demon-hide grip of one of his knives, ready to draw the vicious implement at a moment's notice. He recognised the swordsman instantly from the bouts back in the Cell tournament (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?26046-The-Aislinn-Chamber), and doubted the man would be pleased to see him.

The man looked over his shoulder at the warlock, looking him up and down, the recognition clear in his eyes as well.

"Got your letter, cutter," the tiefling said, his accent harsh and unusual. "What are we 'ere to kill?"

[Hysteria]

The air was soft, the familiar smell of salt and fish washing over Talen like a gentle tide. The youth lifted his head up to the sky and drank it in. A scarf was wrapped around his mouth and hood over his head left only his eyes and a few wisps of black hair showing. The pale eyes blinked a few times, a small smile painted across his face, even if it was only visible through his eyes. The youth slowly let himself drift back to reality and lowered his eyes. Talen was standing on a roof of one of the larger buildings, the opportunity to follow Aurelianus had momentarily come second to dream-like memories of childhood, or at least what Talen thought of as childhood.

The youth looked around twenty, his ability to change his body allowing him to pick and choose the age that he presented as. For this mission he had picked something a little more commanding than a thirteen year-old boy. He maintained his slim appearance and his thin shirt and pants outlined his form easily. The youth wore a small cloak, sitting over his shoulders and leaving his arms bare.

Talen stepped to the edge of the roof, peering down into the street and to Aurelianus and Arden. Both men stirred mixed feelings with the youth. Arden was a fellow Ixian Knight captain, but what little Talen knew of him was butting heads in the Cell. A fact that had caused Sei to gently suggest Talen volunteer for this mission. Aurelianus was another that he had crossed in the Cell, in fact Talen had taken his life, with a little help.

The kid stepped over the edge and into the air. He let himself fall and gather momentum, the wind whipping his cloak as it trailed behind him. The would-be daredevil let his feet touch the side of the building, his body instantly slowed as his feet skidded down the stone wall and his personal gravity shifting from the ground to the building. The youth slowed to a walking pace and calmly walked the remaining few metres and with a small jump landed on the ground. Talen was a lot of things, modest was not one of them.

With a slow, arrogant pace he walked to Aurelianus and Arden, pretending not to notice the stunned looks from the onlookers around him. With a slight incline of his head he greeted man and demon.

“Gentlemen, it seems fate has thrown us together once more.”

[Paragon]

Placeholder to move things along.

Dorian approached the trio, recognizing Arden and Talen, but was not quite familiar with the third.

"I hope I'm not interrupting," he said. "I'm Dorian, and I hope we can work together."

[Arden]

Arden nodded to each in turn, as they arrived piecemeal, but spoke only when the full strength of the designated team had gathered.

“I hope so too,” the captain said glumly.

Since his return to the ranks of the Ixian Knights, a still uncertain gesture of good faith, Arden’s ability to lead felt tested repeatedly. In the Cell, he called in to question over his camaraderie. In the mists of Akashima, his sister had questioned wherever or not he was winning his battle against the oni in his soul after all. Now, in Scara Brae, he questioned himself as to wherever or not this was his ‘calling’.

“Hardly inspiring,” Talen clucked. He lingered on the edges of their congregation, surrounded in a denser and abyssal veil of night than the others. Arden could not be sure, if he simply exuded that aura, or if the youth bent, with his power, the midnight veil to his will.

“Now is not the time for great speeches,” the swordsman replied. He pointed out to sea, where the crystalline waves danced with reflections of the pale, sickly moon. The harvest was long gone, and soon, there would be only a sliver of the satellite in the night sky. It was when Radasanth was coldest, and darkest, and the Manticore would be at its zenith. “Look,” he commanded.

Out on the water, something darted back and forth. It glimmered with the moonlight, as though its scales and mane were empowered by the energy. It called to Arden, the fact alone scared him. If he felt its presence, then it meant it was more than he had imagined. Whatever was out on the water, calling in a strange, dialectic parable, was not a manticore.

“It’s not got enough spines,” Talen mused. His keen eyesight picked out the creature’s overflowing wings, half-formed and flightless, and tried to work out what he was looking at.

“They never ‘ave, cutter,” Aurelianus barked.

“Arden, is there something you’re not telling us?” Dorian hazarded to ask. He stepped up to the swordsman’s left hand side, completing the motley arrangement of mercenaries teetering on the worn stone of the dockland’s edge. Beneath them, murky waves lapsed against cracked battlements, crashing miscellaneous items against Scara Brae’s heart.

“It’s a manticore…but,” Arden curled his lips into a contentious smile. He trailed the creature as it flew in a wide arc around the bay, danced over the floodwalls, and vanished into the streets of the residential district to their left. Its cry echoed, petered out, and then silence. “I think its hurt.”

“It will be when we’re done with it!” the tiefling heckled, spinning his knives like cutlery at a banquet. He did not wait for instructions, as ever, and made towards the thoroughfare that lead away from the harbour and into the maddening, dark streets.

Talen turned to Arden, expectant, and Dorian buckled up his armour. They, tempered by the training drills of the Ixian Knights, knew how to be patient.

“Plan, captain?” the youth asked.

Arden smiled, realising what was amiss. “It’s a kami,” he said, ignoring him for a moment. “I can’t say for sure which, but it is clinging to Scara Braen hopes and dreams. It is masquerading as something the people here fear, something that terrifies their children and eats their loved ones.”

Masquerading as a legend, the kami would be a dangerous foe indeed. Unseen, untested, unknown, Arden’s knowledge of his homeland would be worth nought.

Dorian sighed. “I had quite enough of your ‘gods’ with the Crab.”

Arden smiled. “Then there’s no excuse for failure,” was his reply. He skittered after Aurelianus, eager to reign in their newest recruit before he went headlong into a lions nest, and found himself faced with something even his reputation could not manage.

“Talen, into the shadows, strike at the appropriate moment!” Arden had to shout doubly loud as the wind knocked from his lungs in his advance. “Dorian, the roof tops, keep it down in the streets!” Logical commands for a logical plan, though Arden already had his doubts that this would be anything but a logical encounter.

[Aurelianus Drak'shal]

A sneer started to twist Aurelianus' lips at the appearance of the hooded and cloaked figure - once again, the shadow-creature's body and appearance had changed, but there was no masking his scent. Breathing deep, the tattooed insurrectionist suppressed a growl deep in his throat. Talen had been responsible for penning him in the dead-book, albeit temporarily, during the Cell and while he was used to people trying to kill him somewhat regularly, that didn't mean the warlock couldn't hold a grudge over it.

His knives were in his hands almost before he noticed, the serrated blades spinning in small dervishes as he tried to soothe his choler. Having his weapons in hand helped him relax a little, not trusting a single one of these sods as far as he could throw them. From under the wide brim of his hat, Aurelius let his eyes wander over everyone gathered at the dockside.. but something else caught his attention.

Arden gestured out to sea, and everyones' gaze followed.

The tiefling's eyes narrowed, senses sharpening as he caught sight of the Monster Hunters' prey. A feral grin spread over his face, the stitches pulling taut, and he found his mouth watering as he sized up the opposition. The beast moved like quicksilver across the surface of the choppy waters, every muscle under its skin moving with fluid grace and power, the wings on its back apparently not needed as it leaped and bounded over the waves. The half-breed ran his tongue over his fangs eagerly. Their quarry looked as if it might actually provide him some sport before he gutted it.

Shrugging his coat up against the biting cold of the wind and turning his back on the rest of the men, Drak'shal slid one of his green-steel blades back into its sheath and reached inside his trademark duster. He glanced over his shoulder, making sure none of his "allies" were watching as he coaxed something out with a few quiet whispers in a serpentine yet guttural tongue. There was a squeak in reply, and something emerged from within the confines of the battered leather, taking to the air with a tiny shrieking hiss. The pale sliver of moon cast a soft white glow on everything under its celestial gaze, lining the edges of the buildings looming up out of the rapidly enclosing fog, catching every piece of metal on the assembled hunters and reflecting dimly. It caught the abominable little creature flapping in front of Aurelius like a lantern beam; cold, dead skin covered the tiny monster, sharp flashes catching the minuscule blades that made up its fingers and taloned feet.

Junior turned its sutured eye sockets over everyone, hissing to its master in the Infernal tongue. The blade-clad half-breed chuckled in response, holding out a hand for his familiar to land on. Ruffling the crow pinions emerging from its back, the abomination rubbed its blade-hands together, tiny talons drawing pin-pricks of blood through Aurelianus' gloves. The warlock leaned in closer to his hideous little familiar, whispering instructions to the albino foetus. With a sound akin to a snake trying to bark, Junior took to the skies and flapped away toward the twisting streets of houses on the left of the docks, tracking the manticore. As soon as his pet was airborne the plane-touched killer removed his hat, his bloody-red crest of quills springing free with a dry rustle, flanked on either side by his tattoos. The breeze caressed his brow, cooling the beads of sweat gathered around the base of his crown of horns. Then off came his coat, dropped on the worn cobblestones next to the low wall lining the waterfront. Moonlight danced across the myriad blades and barbs adorning his armour, every movement bringing a kaleidoscopic display of refracted light. Limbering up his limbs, rolling his shoulders and craning his neck from side to side, the tiefling picked a loose rock from the top of the wall, settling it atop his discarded attire to make sure it didn't go anywhere.

"There we go," he said quietly to himself, feeling the salty wind on his bared flesh, "much better."

A final cloud of smoke coiled from his mouth as he finished his cigarette, tossing the butt idly into the sea. Aurelianus was as ready as he could be for the fun to follow. What skin he was showing was covered not only in tattoos, but in scars both old and new. Stitches still bound the most recent, but pain was nothing new to the malcontent; he welcomed its caress like a lover.

As always, he was less than eager to stand around and listen to others rattling their bone-boxes when his blood was up. Team work was not one of his strong-points, outside of his work with his Anarchist brethren (and even then, the autonomous nature of the sect played to his strengths), and without another word to the rest of the sods, he turned on his heel and started towards where the manticore had vanished - into the residential district lining the waterfront.

"Heeeere, puppy!" he called into the stillness of the night, putting two fingers in his mouth and letting out a series of short, shrill whistles.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are.."

[Paragon]

I'll flesh this out later.

Dorian's boots flashed and disappeared, replaced with the Dragonet footwear that allowed him to leap up onto the rooftops. His dragonling friend Fallow was high in the sky, keeping an aerial view of the situation and relaying the situation telepathically.

"Ugh!" Fallow beamed into Dorian's head. "I just saw the ugliest bird in the world! It came from that tailed guy! I think it's tracking the monster as well..."

Dorian moved toward the residential district, hopping between moonlit houses and trying to head off the beast. There wasn't much time before it attacked anyone, and like before with William he was worried about collateral damage.

I don't know if these people know that this is about protecting people, not glory or hunting. I hope Arden knows what he's doing.

[Arden]

Knowing what you were doing and doing it through blind luck were entirely different things. Arden, half-cut, unblemished by fear, and ready to die to defend the populous darted around a corner. Into the darkness, breech, and bedlam the swordsman lead the ragtag band into what turned out inevitably to be:

“…a fucking trap?”

In a crash, bang, and wallop scenario, Hysteria and Arden and presently Aurelianus smashed into one another and struggled to free themselves of their shame. The dragoon overhead, suitably ascended to a vantage point found himself alone in readiness as the Manticore, ahead some hundred feet, rose into the air about the small square long abandoned to neglect.

“It can think?” Hysteria enquired with a sort of half-petrified interest. Shadows danced. Fires flickered unseen.

“Of course it can,” Aurelianus seethed. He could have quivered, had the moment struck. It felt colder, despite the cover afforded by the buildings looming stalagmite-like overhead. “Look at it!”

Looking at it inspired a strange mix of fear, terror, and wonderment. It leered down at them, as beautiful as an endangered species, and as deadly as any creature found in the darkest corners of nowhere. The street running north obscured by a descending hellfire, blue in colour and tepid in heat. Arden, followed by Talen, and then Aurelianus each mouthed their own trademark curse word.

Then, predictably, the Manticore’s tail jolted. A sashay jettisoned three-foot bolts of chitin; one at swordsman, one at shadow mage, and one at a seditionist. Only the moonlight’s serene shimmer across the damp flagstones and sewer ditches diminished the shame of the ‘monster hunters’.

[Hysteria]

“Well Gentlemen,” Talen tone was bathed in a gleeful challenge, “I'll try and lure it down.”

With that simple statement the youth was gone in place of a puff of darkness that too disappeared. The youth hadn't travelled far as he reappeared half way up the side of the building. His cloak was already trailing behind him as he darted up the side of the wall. His shoulders lent forwards, hand stuffed in his pockets in an overt show of confidence. In moments he had reached the top of the building leapt into the air. Rather than slowing down however he continued straight, his body rising easily through the night air until he was level with the beast.

The youth hung there for a moment, suddenly unsure of what to do. The relatively new ability wasn't really battle tested. Sensing his hesitation the beast surged forwards. Its tail flicked again, causing Talen to tumble backwards and descend several feet as the spikes arched above him. He regained himself, concious of the beast descending towards him, but also the judging eyes of the man and demon below. The youth's pale blue eyes caught the moon as he twisted towards the beast's form. From the distance he could see it in detail. Time seemed to slow as the elegant beast arched through the air, more galloping than flying. The youth lifted his arms forwards, darkness leaping from the air around him and hardening into a crossbow.

The weapon clicked, sending a bolt towards the beast. It dived lower to escape, similar to Talen moments before. The crossbow fired again, and again driving the beast towards the buildings. The youth's rash plan to drive it towards Dorian seemed to be working for the moment. Another bolt fired just high of the beast caused it to drop further. The youth's repeating crossbow had run out of shots, but he held it against his shoulder as if hadn't.

Fuck... The youth thought.