Round 1-Part Facade/Ice Reaver: Entryway

[Solar Haven]

Begins March the 8th at 12:01 am EST. The fight ends March the 23rd at 12:01 am EST.

This is the Entryway. in order to move to the Throne room one must use the Grand Hallway, unless one can teleport.

Participants:

Eiskalt:
Amber Eyes

BlueGhostofSeaside

black shadow

Hysteria

Devon Steel

Attackers:
Zack Blaze

Lady

Max Dirks

Echo_Naruga

Philomel

[Amber Eyes]

You are strong enough now. The words filled her mind. Both mentally and physically. She was. The girl had dreamed of this moment for years. For once Silence Sei Orlouge could see more than just a helpless child in her. I'm proud of you Kylana. Tears burned in her eyes but she quickly blinked them away before they could cascade down her cheek. Warriors don't cry.

Misery was hard at work, transporting dozens of men in each trip. In one moment the Ixian forces stood in the warm, dimly lit caverns of the tombs below Ixian Castle. In the next, they were boots-high in snow. The country was almost like something from a storybook, all crystal covered trees and untouched, pure white winter. It was beautiful. Kyla's heart leapt as she remembered Ashla Icebreaker and her never yielding happiness. Now it all made sense, with a homeland this sheltered, the girl was sheltered from the evils of city life. Kyla watched as the sun shone rainbows as it reflected against the snow-covered ground.

"Miss Orlouge!" The loud call pulled the girl from her daydream. She turned her eyes from the perfectly clear field before her and noted the difference to her rear. Muddy boots tracked through the powder, leaving it tainted and ugly. This was the effect of war, though the true scars wouldn't be hidden by the next flurry. Kyla could only hope to keep it to a minimum.

"Ay!" The girl turned her attention to Oreo Jones, who would lead an expedition east as Kyla took a select few toward the Castle of Eiskalt.

"We're just about ready to move. We had a shortage of overcoats though, so a few of the men will do without. We weren't expecting this latest batch of recruits." Oreo wiped his brow, sweating even in the cold air.

"How many are we short?" Kyla's eyes scanned the mass of people.

"Eleven ma'am. I've sent Sargent Clouses to gather more supplies, but we can't wait that long to move. Our position will not remain secret for long."

"Eleven?" The mystic unbuttoned her coat and shrugged it off. She handed it to the General and gave a soft smile.


"My lady, we can't have you out here fre--"

The daughter of the dragon held up a hand to silence him. "Make it ten. You boys keep them safe, understand?"

"Yes ma'am. Are you sure you don't need a small group with you?" The concern in his voice was clear, no one was quite ready to lose their newest leader so quick.

"Actually, if you find Talen in the fray, please send him my way." Kyla eyed the group with confidence. The would be through with this soon enough.

The General frowned as he reached into his bag for a freshly-filled canteen. "I moreso meant a dozen soldiers."

The Mystic took the water and a shiver ran up her spine from the cold. "Talen will do just fine." With a final glance, Kyla turned her back on the group and headed west. The castle was not far now.

Oreo gave a laugh. "You and Talen against the world huh?" His words reached her ears through the wind.

"It's been that way before." She whispered as she took a drink of cold water.


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The castle was an intimidating structure. Kyla knew from her records that the building was made of a rare metal that the people of Eiskalt guarded with their lives. The dark, massive building seemed out of place against the natural beauty it commanded and as such, it was the only place in the country that Kyla could belong. Her nose and ears were near frozen and a small bit of regret over her jacket filled her. The knowledge that at least on soldier would be more likely to make it home gave her the strength to move forward. She reached the building's shadow and in seconds she emerged in the entry hall. Her eyes and ears were at full attention as she crept quietly forward. The room was larger than the entryway at home and filled with portraits of former leaders and their families. Kyla wanted to search out her young friend Ashla in the group but her focus was needed right now. The sound of footsteps reached her and the Mystic followed them into the Grand Hallway.


Kyla enters the Grand Hallway.

[Hysteria]

“Where is Kyla?” Talen's voice betrayed a rare show of emotion as he walked towards Oreo.

“She went ahead to the Castle. She asked for you to follow.” Oreo looked as concerned as Talen.

Talen restrained himself from swearing at Kyla going off on her own. He thought she took after Sei too much, sometimes leaders should do the leading from behind. Jumping in head on with no concern for their safety seemed to be an Orlouge trait. He suspected their mystic protection gave them a misplaced sense of invulnerability.

“I'll follow now.”


~ ~ ~ ~

Talen slipped through the entry of the castle like an eel. Standing prone he was barely a metre and a half tall. The youth's shaggy black hair was tied back with a top knot, not similar to those seen in among Akashima warriors. The youth normally carried with him a spark, the sort of laissez-faire attitude of someone who didn't want for anything that he didn't already have. Today his face looked tired. War carried with it more than the physical exhaustion of battle. The psychological stress of having to be alter constantly, the risk that friend and foe might become blurred and of course the threat that someone you cared about could not come back. His eyes were none the less alert as he made his way through the entry towards the hall.

The soft-soled shoes he wore on his feet made only a small sound with each foot fall as he moved slowly across the stone corridor towards the hall. Unconsciously he put his hands into his pockets, a throw back to his days on the streets when it was the best defence against wandering hands. That is of course, unless his hands were doing the wandering. As well as the simple black pants, he wore a black vest, leaving his pale arms to contrast against his dark cloths. The only colour on the youth at all was his ocean blue eyes.

[Philomel]

He kept his small black nose pointed to the sky before her, a beacon of direction within the burning and burnt city. His small paws scurried over the cobbles, not turning as he assumed rightly she was following as swiftly as her hooves could take her.

Not that her hooves made any sound today on these stone streets. Not that she breathed more than was necessary. Not that she had her three steel blades in company, that would soon decorate these fancy halls with the splattered remains of their enemies.

Philomel pulled the hood tighter over around her head, framing her pale face in this dim light. It was made of a thick material, close to sacking cloth, that she had deliberately hemmed in order that it hid the horns that grew from either side of her head. At a glance, by an ordinary person, it would look like she had piled her long hair around her head, and was wearing some sort of long travelling cloak. It has been easy, after all, in all this chaos, to get to an abandoned house and find enough cloth to obscure her body. To bind her hooves so they wouldn't clatter, and wrap the cloak around her usually revealing body in order to hide the fact she was laden down with weaponry, which already was stained with blood. Dressed like this she could scurry around, looking like another lost soul in this turmoil, and not let it seem like she was a faun, assassin-adept, and ally to the people who had besieged this island in the first place.

There were only two guards upon the entranceway to the castle, and they were busy enough with fighting their own battles. Veridian skipped past them through the gate on his little lithe paws. Two paces behind, Philomel followed suit, keeping her pose hunched and weak-looking but her eyes sharp. Her acting skills after all had been perfected over the years when convincing men she was in love with them.

The fox earth-spirit let out no sound, but stopped when he saw two figures already in the room; one making their way towards the next doorway, another just beyond. The first was female, the second male, and both currently had their backs to the faun and her familiar.

Philomel paused, then stepped to the side, as quietly as her covered hooves would allow, and dipped into the shadows beneath a portrait of an elderly fat man holding a crystal champagne flute.

The pomposity of the aristocracy, the faun-whore thought, coming to a halt. She kept one hand securely around the front of her cloak, keeping it closed to ensure the facade would continue. Her other hand, however, wrapped around the hilt of her keris dagger. Just in case, she thought, Just in case. In all likeliness they will not recognise me at all anyway.

Then, once done, and prepared, Philomel started down the entranceway after the two figures, Veridian slightly before her, now looking like a lost puppy and following her act of a lost soul.


OOC: Philomel is in the Entranceway.

[Max Dirks]

With a single slice, two severed heads landed on the snow with soft thuds. Their bodies remained stationary for a moment before they too crumpled to the ground.

Max Dirks crouched low over the fallen guards, careful to avoid the pooling blood. With a huff, he sheathed his bloodied prevalida short sword and began to drag their bodies one by one into a nearby bush. The courtyard was quiet for now, but Dirks did not want anyone, including fellow members of the Order of the Crimson Hand, to discover he breached the castle walls.

Dirks was presently the commander of the Order's ground forces in Eiskalt. It was only a ceremonious title though, as the Order’s “ground forces” were just a group of untrained initiates sent to Tyranta to create public distain for the Ixian Knight’s "occupying forces." Dirks knew full well that this was assignment was just a punishment for his past relationships. When news that Kyla Orlogue was leading the Ixian Knights in Eiskalt reached Lye Ulroke, the assassin quickly manipulated Dirks into the shadows of the war. Lye couldn't afford to have his most valuable piece turn against the Order in their hour of triumph. It was a wise move. Kyla was Dirks’ goddaughter’s sister, and he would not allow anyone to harm her.

In the distance, Dirks heard a shout followed by a chorus of iron, indicating it was time to move. These initiates, though generally clueless, were completely enamored with the criminal. They would follow any order he gave, despite how illogical it might seem. To distract both Ixians and the Hands alike, Dirks used his ragtag troupe to start a revolution against the Ixian Knights in Tyranta City Square. They believed their riot was to allow Order operates to sneak into the castle unnoticed, but of course, the diversion was meant only for Dirks. He planned to sneak in and rescue Kyla before the Order’s actual assault began.

With renewed vigor, Dirks returned to the severed heads. He tossed them aside and began kicking snow over the now frozen blood. When the red stains were finally invisible to the naked eye, Dirks started running low towards the castle’s entryway. He arrived, and slowly pushed in the large door, careful not to make a sound. When the gap was big enough, Dirks squeezed through and dropped to a crouch. He immediately withdrew his short sword and finagled it back through the opening. It took a moment, but Dirks finally fit his sword through the door handles. He let it go and pulled the door shut. While someone entering from the outside might find a new toy, those trying to escape from within would be in for a surprise when the door refused to open.

Satisfied with his trap, Dirks slipped into the darkness behind a nearby pillar.

Dirks moved from outside into the Entryway. I took some liberty with Philomel's guards and placed them outside rather than inside.

[black shadow]

The war had begun. The cities were on fire. Screams could be heard from within. The sight was not one Black Shadow wished to see again. He knew what would happen if Misery Business was to win. When the news of the war reached his ears, he had but the one choice to aid Eiskalt.

Black Shadow watched from outside as one man defeated the guards with ease. It took him a second glance to realise who the man was, but as soon as he could see his face, a growing look of concern was visible across his face. The man was none other than the legendary Max Dirks. Black Shadow then remembered back to the League battle he was supposed to take part in. Max versus Shadow... Or at least that is what was supposed to happen. The legend left him out in the rainforest for almost a week. no food, no water, only what he could find himself.

The fear then turned to anger. I finally get to see him fight. Finally get to take revenge for that week of torture. He thought to himself as he ran towards the door after Dirks. Before he had the chance to enter the entry way, a sword was slipped into the handle, and the doors shut. It's a trap... It has to be. Black Shadow thought to himself. But I have to go in anyways. He then pulled the sword out and placed it in his quiver with his other sword. He thew readied his bow and slowly pushed the door open. His senses were on red alert, ready for anything that could be thrown at him.


OOC: Shadow is now in the entryway.

[Hysteria]

Talen paused, the sound of another person entering the hall ticked off his sharp ears. The success was quick, another two entering moments afterwards. The youth paused on the spot, his head twisting slightly to allow him to peer back into the darkness. There wasn't time for the young captain to look past the first person, a creature he did not recognise, before the crash. It was a heavy sound, of cracking stone. The youth didn't wait, he didn't care who the strangers were he needed to get to Kyla.

It was almost automatic, the youth blinked out of existence. The only thing remaining was a dark mist, rapidly fading until only air remained. There was a face that he would have remembered if he had properly seen him. Max Dirks, the man that had presided over Talen's first tournament, the aptly named Cell.

Talen leaves the entry

[Philomel]

As the door clunked closed behind her Philomel let out a gasp of surprise.

Quickly she pushed herself against the wall, ducking down beside a portrait, in a narrow alcove. Here it was slightly in shadow, hidden in a way of simply being a recess. Her cloak gathered around her, and the hood made her seem part of the wall itself, a minor dull decoration in this environment. Looking back over her shoulder she glimpsed the sight of a figure by the door, cast half in darkness, but he did not seem to be making any advances. Therefore she twisted her attention back to the rest of the Entryway, and kept her eyes peeled.

Shallow shadows, dim light - there was little to be seen at all. Nothing, really, in particular to see, but portraits upon portraits of long dead bastards. And bitches. Veridian seemed intensely interested in one a little way down the hall. He had paused and had his nose pointed to greet the edge of a frame. One paw raised he sniffed it delicately, as the light from a candle glimmered off his red coat, sending the rust and carnelian blazing back to her eyes.

Beautiful, like gemstones worth the damascus pickaxes that had prized them from the ground.

A flicker of movement, and Philomel tensed. The man they had been following was turning towards the sounds echoing from beyond the door, and from the door itself. The earth-spirit seemed to catch this straight awares and jumped, skittering back into the shadows. There was a pause, then the man turned back around and hurried away once more, into the next room. His movements were quick, lithe, as if he was trained for war, and rather good at it.

Philomel shook herself to waking, and muttered under her breath. She swapped her hand from holding onto her dagger to grasping the hilt of her newly created and glorious Orcrist Sword that she had already given the name "Bastard" to.

Onwards, forwards, the faun-whore strode, as fast as her shuffling would allow. Hunching her back she resumed the part of looking like an elderly woman who had lost her home, and kept by the wall. Veridian followed, but by the other wall, slowing his pace enough to allow them to come at the same. Like two moths drawn to the same flame they sychronised their paths, moving from the Entranceway into the next hall, where they would see what destiny lay beyond in this most peculiar war.


OOC: Philomel has left the Entranceway, and is now in the Grand Hallway

[Max Dirks]

"Fuck," Dirks lipped as he peered around the pillar. No more than fifteen feet to the northeast of him crouched the whore, Philomel, a Hand of the Word in the Order. The criminal recognized the faun from her unmistakable goat legs. Her attention was focused elsewhere at the moment, but Dirks doubted he could slip by the master of espionage unnoticed from his current position. This was not ideal, as Dirks was secretly committing treason against the Order. If there was one person he did not want to run into on his mission, it was the secret hawking faun. "Fuck," he lipped once more. Philomel's presence also meant the Order's secret assault had already begun.

Dirks had no time to formulate a plan before the door he had just secured from the outside creaked open. "How convenient," he mumbled. Philomel must have heard the door as well, because out of the corner of his eye he saw her figure break off towards the forward door.

Suddenly free to advance, Dirks withdrew his mithril dirk from its ankle holster then sent it flying towards the opening door. The weapon spun through the air and cut into the wood with a loud thunk. By this time, Dirks had already pulled hood of his assassin's robes over his head and was sprinting towards the opposite exit. Hopefully, the dirk in the door would cause the newcomer to hesitate for a moment and give Dirks a bit of extra time to escape if not unnoticed, then unrecognized.

Philomel had already left the area when Dirks arrived at the head of the room. Suddenly, a distant explosion shook the walls of the castle, causing small stones to fall from the ceiling. "Fuck," he mustered, this time outloud. The Order's assault had indeed started and Kyla was now in imminent danger. Dirks reached into his robes and withdrew his 'patented' Beretta 950. The time for stealth had ended. Still sprinting, Dirks dipped his shoulder and crashed through the door to the Grand Hallway.

Dirks threw a dirk at the door Shadow is entering, ran after Philomel, and crashed through the door leading to the Grand Hallway

[black shadow]

Black Shadow stopped when he felt the dirk come into contact with the door. After a second he noticed the silhouette of a mans body running the opposite direction of him. Shadow then swung the door open, and fired an arrow at the now hooded man. The arrow flew through the air, and was expected to hit it's target. That would not be the case though. The man bashed through the wooden door into the next room, appearing to be a hallway. The arrow flew past his head into the next room, where it could be seen almost making contact with a person beyond the hooded man.

Dang! He thought as he began to run after the man. Dirks, if that is who you are, get back here! As he reached the door, the sound of fire reached Shadow's ears. As he looked for a fire, he could see no such thing. Then the sudden realisation of what is happening now hit him... Ashla?! Where is Ashla?! He thought. She was nowhere to be seen, And there was no fire either. The only option would be that she is in the throne room... Along with the fire... And an enemy of Eiskalt.

Black Shadow charged into the hallway, and tried to stay along the walls to get to the throne room.


OOC: Black Shadow is now in the hallway, trying to get to the throne room.