The Death of a Deity

A dark solemn sky frowned over Terrinore Isle. Rain fell in thick, gusting sheets upon the volcanic prison island. It splattered atop the massive stone tower-building and ran in rivers down carved troughs, overflowing wherever sharp angles occurred. It lashed walls thick enough to withstand canon fire and pooled around the prison's perimeter where the ground formed shallow ditches. It threatened to flood the basements where off-duty guards played at cards and dice, hunched around pot-bellied iron stoves and wrapped in old woolen cloaks to combat the chill.

Terrinore Isle; where criminals went when they needed to disappear forever.

Near the top of the tower, more than one thousand feet above the gnashing sea, Roderick Rok sat in his cell. Two years had passed since the Baron whose life Roderick nearly stole had him sent to the Lornian prison, two long harrowing years of abuse and deprivation, existing in a cell that smelled of shit and stale sweat. Roderick could scarcely remember the feeling of the sun on his face, or the temptation of a good woman, or the taste of a proper hot meal. And yet as he listened to the stoic silence of the thick-walled stone building, he found occasion to smile. His lips split and yellowed teeth displayed in the dingy darkness. The voice inside his head had spoken.

The guard arrives shortly.

Most men would have thought themselves mad, hearing a voice with their mind instead of their ears while locked behind dehlar crossbars. Most men were not powerful telepaths like Roderick Rok. He had been the voice inside many a false madman's mind, had planted memories and opinions inside the heads of the rich and wealthy, had carried on entire conversations without moving his tongue. He knew the difference between a mental message and the onset of madness. At least, he hoped he did.

Be ready. The deep, booming voice said.

A door at the end of the corridor creaked open and then closed. Keys jangled in the lock and the guard's footsteps echoed down the hall.

Roderick prepared a single, potent thought as he leaned on the crossbars of his cell, arms hanging loosely through the grate. When he'd first arrived in the cell his arms had been too thickly muscled to fit through the spaces between the bars. Two years of near-starvation had left him a sickly shadow of his former self. But he would have his freedom. The guard came into sight, eyeing Roderick as he did each prisoner along the line, checking for signs of escape. Roderick closed his eyes and concentrated and pushed the thought he had prepared into the guard's mind.

Come here, he commanded. The prison had wards in place to prevent prisoners using such magic, but two years was a long enough time to find a sliver of weakness in any shield. Roderick could feel the wards dragging at his ability but he powered onward.

The guard hesitated, but his hesitation made room in his mind for more thoughts to push in.

Unlock this cell, Roderick commanded, quickly, before it is too late! Unlock this cell and stand at attention. With a distant look of worry in his eyes, the guard complied.

Unlacing his arms from the crossbars, Roderick stepped out into the hall. He took the keys from the guard's hand, and the knife from his broad belt, and cut the man's throat in cold blood. While the guard wheezed on the floor in a growing pool of blood the other prisoners in cells along the corridor roared for freedom. Roderick ignored them all, hurrying to the thick dehlar-bound door the guard had entered through and sorting through the heavy ring until he found the key that fit the lock.

He swept down a torch lit spiraling staircase, his bare feet slapping on each cold granite step, his coarse linen clothing whispering with each movement. His men would be at a lower level than him, but which level, and which corridor on which level, was a mystery. Adrenaline lent wings to his feet and he flew down hallway after hallway, pausing only to peer into the deep shadows of certain cells and when he needed to find a key. Some prisoners wailed at him to let them go, while others - those who were truly broken - screamed for the guards. None would hear them; the next patrol was not due for nearly an hour.

Eventually Roderick found them all. Greyson Fawcett, the boy-faced murderer who had learned the art of telepathy from Rok himself. Winchell Hackney, the grizzled puppet master who could step inside a mark's body and take control of their every movement. Smarteye Sam, a former thief who knew more of precious gems than any jeweler in Corone. Darrin Hornsby, the scarred enforcer who could strike fear in the hearts of veteran soldiers as if they were children. And lastly, found laughing in his cell as if he'd anticipated the rescue, the Lunatic of Serenti, Olin Rutland.

Find an external wall, boomed the voice in Roderick's head. He spoke a few words and his men fell into step behind him. Like a centipede in six parts they trotted through the halls of Terrinore Isle. The difficult part had arrived, the part Roderick could not figure out. None of the keys he had taken from the guard would allow him to exit the prison, or even come close to it. How would getting to an external wall help them? Even with tools - of which they had none - it would take months if not years to burrow through the thick stone, and they had little more than fifteen minutes remaining before the next patrol would find them. And yet, he had trusted the voice thus far, and thus far it had not led him astray. Roderick and his men wound through the prison, keeping as straight a line as the criss-crossing corridors allowed, until at last he heard the rain.

It was only a faint fluttering, but through the thick external walls he could make out the sound of water lashing the building's side, like a warden with a whip laying into a prisoner.

Stand back! The voice roared.

"Back!" Roderick ordered, flattening himself against the interior wall of the hallway, "brace yourselves here." His men obeyed without question.

Although the storm raged fiercely, with strident winds lashing the rain about, there had been no thunder and no lightning. Suddenly a cloud swelled and a single thick, forked bolt plummeted from the heavens. It lanced downward, golden electric, and struck the prison's wall with the accuracy of an arrow launched from a Ranger's bow. Thunder rolled in response to the lightning, but it could not match the riotous sound of rending stone.

Roderick covered his ears and closed his eyes, barely daring to believe what he had just seen. A wall that could withstand cannon fire, laid to waste like a layer of dry kindling. Slowly Roderick opened his eyes and approached the breach. It was taller than a man and twice as wide, large enough for his men to pass through one at a time. Was there a portal waiting for them outside, he wondered, or one of those Alerian airships? Surely the winds would not allow it to hover so close...

Rain buffeted Roderick's face as he looked out and down through the hole. The sight made him dizzy and sick all at once. There was no portal shimmering in the air, nor any manner of zeppelin waiting to whisk them away. There was nothing but a terrifying drop, more than a thousand feet straight down to the frothy, rock-studded salt water below.

Jump. The voice said.

"Are you mad?" Roderick roared into the storm. His men exchanged uneasy glances. They could not hear the voice; they knew not whom he was speaking to, nor what he planned to do.

You must all jump. The next guard approaches. The voice thundered.

Roderick grimaced and braced his arms on the rough stonework either side of the breach. He looked back at his men. Before today, he would have sworn they trusted him with their lives. But did they truly? Unless the voice could pluck him out of the air, he would not live long enough to tell.

The door at the end of the hall opened, and a guard carrying a lantern stepped halfway through before noticing the six prisoners and the gaping hole in the wall. The lantern hit the stone floor as the guard turned and fled to raise the alarm. Olin cackled and made as if to give chase, but Hackney's firm hand on his shoulder stayed the Lunatic.

To Haide with all of this, and with me as well! Roderick thought. For once he had to give up control.

"Follow me to freedom!" He shouted with a confidence he did not feel. And then he tucked his elbows and leaped into the storm.

Olin followed first with the fearlessness of insanity. Sam went next, his round face contorted in terror. Hackney and Hornsby nearly got stuck in the opening trying to jump third. Fawcett brought up the rear, always the most prudent of the group.

Far below rain churned the surface of the sea, but no bodies struck the water nor the rocks protruding like teeth. The ocean would go hungry that day; the six criminals had vanished as soon as they cleared the walls of Terrinore Isle.

The day had dawned brightly for Olin Rutland, with a red-rimmed sun rising over the eastern sea. Serenti blossomed beautifully in autumn, especially when visited by Olin's particular brand of chaos. In the month since he and his comrades escaped Terrinore Isle Rutland had returned to the site of his former glory, where years ago he'd tormented the citizens with his madness. The Lunatic of Serenti, they'd called him, and soon would again. Or perhaps he'd choose a different title... the Lord of Serenti, no the King, no... the Emperor. They would call him whatever he pleased once his hooks sunk deep enough into the city's nervous center.

Olin swallowed a satisfying mouthful of morning ale and banged the empty tankard down on the fine teak tabletop. A serving girl stumbled over from the corner to refill his cup, nearly sloshing ale on the floor, her face drawn up in fear. She had belonged to the lord whose manor Olin had appropriated as his own, and he'd kept the staff on to suit his needs. He slapped the serving girl's ass as she scooted back to the corner, eliciting a muffled thud from her skirts and a startled shriek from her mouth. He'd already sampled that particular morsel, and would again soon.

The Lunatic picked his teeth with a herringbone left over from breakfast and examined his reflection in the back of a polished silver spoon. His sallow cheeks had regained some ruddy color in the month since he escaped, and his face no longer looked gaunt with starvation. His wide green eyes still glowed with a familiar fervor. He remembered the pain and discomfort of prison all too well, and still woke in a sweat most nights expecting to find hard stone floors beneath him instead of the lord's thick feather mattress. He shivered and took a long pull of ale, savoring the bitter brew.

The kitchen door banged open and Darrin Hornsby strode in, followed by the musty smell of the library he'd entered through. His heavy boots tracked mud across the clean tile floor. Olin would enjoy making his servants clean that up later, perhaps using nothing but their tongues. Judging by the expression on Hornsby's face, however, he would not lack for entertainment that day.

The scarred enforcer looked grim even for him, with his white-seamed face drawn down in a deep frown. Olin smiled. Events that upset others - even events that upset his friends and allies - often amused the Lunatic. He licked his lips, savoring the final flavors of fish grease and ale, and gestured for Hornsby to sit at the small kitchen table.

The large, muscular man pulled back a chair and dumped his heavy frame down in it. He spared a quick glance for the pretty serving girl in the corner and then cleared his throat and reached inside his leather jacket. One callused hand produced a folded piece of parchment and placed it on the table. Hornsby slid the paper slowly across the teak surface, navigating a path between the platters containing the remnants of Olin's breakfast.

"This just arrived from Smarteye," Hornsby said in his deep, harsh voice. He tugged at his thick beard and raked a hand through disheveled dark hair, eyes blazing like coals. "Should scour that smile from your face," he muttered darkly.

Following Roderick's orders, Olin had brought Hornsby and Hackney with him to help take control of Serenti. Winchell Hackney, the old puppet master, was responsible for controlling the actions of the town guard's captain. With the Watch in turmoil, Olin was free to create chaos throughout the prosperous city, leaving folks leaderless and on their knees, ready to beg for whatever scraps the Lunatic tossed their way. Hornsby's job was to command Olin's personal guard and keep the Lunatic alive, and his minor role in the operation clearly left a bitter taste in Hornsby's mouth. Olin cared little for what went into Hornsby's mouth... but the folded paper that came from the man's hand caught his attention immediately.

Olin picked up the paper and unfolded it, and after a brief glance at the tidy scrawl on the page sighed and snapped his fingers. Nothing happened. The Lunatic growled and snapped his fingers again, twice and thrice. Suddenly the serving girl gasped and sprang into action, collecting a pair of half-moon spectacles from a nearby counter and presenting them to Olin with a curtsy. Rutland took the spectacles with a smile and then seized the girl's hand and sank his teeth into her wrist, biting hard enough to draw blood.

The girl screamed and jumped away, gripping her wounded wrist as blood oozed between pretty pale fingers. She turned and fled, sobbing, to have a healer see to the bite. She would be back. Olin might not have trained her to be ready with his glasses yet, but she bloody well knew not to tarry in returning to his service, no matter what kind of mark he left on her.

Olin cleared his throat and wiped his lips with a linen napkin, and then perched the spectacles on his nose and shot a withering glare at Hornsby over the flats of the half-moons. The enforcer was gnawing at a thumbnail, knowing better than to look at Olin while he wore his glasses. With another unnecessary harrumph the Lunatic read the note.

My Dear Olin, it read in Smarteye Sam's educated hand, if you are receiving this letter it is likely I am dead or captured. Roderick, of course, will have received the same news. I took the precaution of preparing these messages when I discovered two strange men poking around my Temple to Draconus in Lornius. I have since learned that their names are Shinsou Vaan Osiris and Joshua "Breaker" Cronen. Both have a list of tawdry titles and good deeds tied to their names, so there seems little doubt as to why they are interested in our operation. I have invited them into a trap which they will find too appealing to ignore, but like any good chess master, I always hold moves in reserve.

If you receive this my dear Olin, expect Osiris and Cronen at your doorstep before long. In my letter to Roderick I advised that all of you join forces, for if my enterprise in Lornius has fallen, it can only mean that these determined men will seek out the rest of our crew. Be ready for them, and take every precaution. They gained entrance to my temple with absolute ease, and had nearly discovered the source of my power before I interrupted them. Use all of the resources at your disposal to make them regret their insolence. If I am dead or captured... my final wish is for these two men to meet a painful demise at the hands of the Lunatic of Serenti.

Yours, Smarteye Sam.

Olin tossed the parchment onto the empty fish platter, where it slowly soaked up the grease coating the beige earthenware. So. Smarteye was dead, or worse imprisoned once again on Terrinore Isle. Olin felt no sadness for the loss of a friend. His lips curled into a wide smile, displaying his yellow teeth to Hornsby.

"You've read this?" Olin asked the enforcer, and got a terse nod in return. "I'll want my personal guard doubled, and watch patrols tripled." He raised a hand to quell any protest. "Tell Hackney, he will take care of it... spread the story that we've a pair of murderers and rapists on the loose. That will get the guards riled up and ready for blood. Release the names-" he peered at the greasy parchment on the platter - "Joshua Cronen and Shinsou Vaan Osiris. I want every man in Serenti who has eyes on the lookout."

The Lunatic hummed a gleeful tune as he stood and danced about the table, clapping a bewildered Hornsby on his broad back.

"Don't look so glum, don't wear a frown!" Olin sang... "Two new playmates are coming to town!"

The road to Serenti was quiet but for the drumming of the steady rain. The storm that had threatened Corone for a few days had finally smashed into the island and the cold, driving precipitation it brought now beat at the track, and its sole occupant, relentlessly. Shinsou Vaan Osiris, a stern look held upon his face, felt heavy droplets drum down on his leather overcoat, adding weight to his shoulders and saturating his clothes. The moon’s luminescence had been choked completely by the rain clouds, so much so that only Stygian’s light helped guide his horse Slepnir on their journey. A bright ray of irrepressible silver shone from the elven blade as his white steed steadily cantered forward, his eyes using the light to seek potholes and footfalls hidden by floods.

As the outskirts of Serenti cropped up over the horizon, barely visible through the rain that fell in grainy sheets, The Telgradian thought upon the events that had brought him this far. It had been a few weeks since Lornius, where he and Joshua ‘Breaker’ Cronen had put paid to the slaving ring run by Smarteye Sam, the Terrinore escapee. What had started out as a simple mission to free slaves, a task bestowed upon them by the grace of Am’aleh, had suddenly led to many complexities beyond their original remit. Just as Shinsou and Breaker were preparing to celebrate their earlier success at the Temple of Draconis, things had gone south very quickly.

It turned out that Sam himself was just the crust of a much deeper problem and his death at the hands of Osiris had stirred a hornet’s nest of activity. The Brotherhood’s contacts had their snouts to the ground to look for any trace of Sam’s partners but violent attacks on the informants had trebled and soon enough information had dried up like a Fallien watering hole in the summer. Newspapers were then reporting more escapees than the Brotherhood’s intelligence had accounted for. Rumours circulated that the dangerous inmates were all connected and that Terrinore guards themselves were in on the escape. Confidence in the prison island had plummeted and the denizens of Corone and neighbouring countries were demanding answers that no-one had.

There was a lot of fear stirring within the discontent, but the fear led to loose lips and where there was gossip to pick up there was a Brotherhood agent nearby to garner all he or she could. Of all the hearsay and gossip, two names kept cropping up again and again; the same two names, every time.

Olin Rutland and Greyson Fawcett. Come on in boys, your time is up.

Shinsou switched Stygian and the reins, his right hand growing tired of holding the sword. He smiled at the irony of how altruistic he seemed to have become in Am’aleh and Breaker’s wake. He didn’t have to do this. Osiris could have pulled the Brotherhood out from investigating the Terrinore inmates altogether and save both himself and his men the aggravation and the pain of meddling in criminal affairs. It could have been someone else’s problem.

But it doesn’t work that way, does it? I lit a fire under them by killing Smarteye and I know that puts me and the Brotherhood in the firing line. Live by the sword, die by the sword. The only way out is to be smarter, faster and harder than the other man. That’s the only way I know how to live. So it’s not just a case of doing the right thing, is it? This is about survival. It’s also about Cronen.

Feeling more resolved to his task, Shinsou paused from philosophizing. The brown haired man saw an imaginary phantom of Cronen in his periphery, marching aside him with stoicism. Breaker was a demi-god, a man that carried himself with nobility and oozed power. His loyalty to Am’aleh and Survani was admirable and this, coupled with his legendary strength, made Joshua one of the only people who awed the Telgradian. He was a good man and obedient to a fault, but sometimes this worried Osiris. When it came to matters of life-or-death direct action, could Cronen step up to the plate, even if it meant disobeying his goddesses?

He’ll do what he can but the burden shouldn’t just be his. That’s why I’m here. If a hard decision needs to get made, I can take that pressure off him. His integrity is without question and I don’t mind staining my hands to keep him in the ivory tower.

Shinsou knew he had no problem getting his hands dirty to get the job done. Blurred lines were somewhat a theme in his life and manoeuvring the wiggle-room between spaces of morality was somewhat a necessity of the Telgradian’s lifestyle. His thoughts spun within his head as he rode, the moral burden weighing on him. The former emperor had once been an evil thing. Escaping Telgradia and the Jal Shey’s control had changed him for the better. Since meeting with Philomel, Amari and now Breaker, Osiris had walked a more ethical line, even if his dealings with the Brotherhood erred on the shady side.

All said and done, I’m here for something bigger than just me. These clowns from Terrinore have caused enough problems and Am’aleh wants them gone. I’m only too happy to oblige, if not for her and Breaker than for my own people who got a kicking on my behalf.

His eyes steeled behind the driving droplets, rivulets of water forking down his nose and chin. Perhaps he and Breaker would provide a better solution for the people than the authorities who had crumbled beneath the anarchic rule of the Lunatic of Serenti, the man who orchestrated chaos wherever he travelled.

As Slepnir rode on, Shinsou prepared himself for the challenges ahead in Serenti. He hoped Cronen was already there waiting.

Through the outskirts of Serenti wound a long, deep offshoot of the Firewine River. The channel meandered around corners and flowed under bridges, its surface dappled by rainfall. Beneath one broad bridge perhaps two hundred yards east of where the river emptied into the sea, a shadow formed beneath the water. It molded into the shape of a man as he swam up from the depths. But this was no ordinary man.

Joshua Cronen's head broke the surface of the water silently and he drew in a deep, even breath. The Y-shaped scars on his cheeks glistened as he swam powerfully for the protected stone shore beneath the bridge, close-cropped hair plastered down around his head. He found handholds on the rocky ground and pulled himself out of the water, droplets cascading from his brown cotton breeches and black lace-up shirt. His black metal boots left the water last. The enchanted footwear had slowed him down surprisingly little during the swim from the sea.

For a moment Breaker crouched beneath the bridge, listening to the rain and sniffing the air. This close to the ocean the could still smell the salt, and it reminded him of Am'aleh. Of late he had spent a significant amount of time with the Patron of the Sea, communing with her beneath the surface. A part of him longed to join her on the ethereal plain, to sink comfortably into her eternal embrace. But there would always be time for eternity... other matters, such as Olin Rutland's presence in Serenti, could not be left to wait.

After the showdown with Smarteye Sam at his Temple to Draconus in Lornius, Breaker had done some research. He'd learned the names of the Terrinore escapees from reliable sources and visited an archivist in Gisela. He had not liked what he learned. All of the former prisoners were responsible for long lists of crimes, but none so notoriously as the Lunatic of Serenti. The last time he'd visited the pearl coasts Rutland had taken over the city by way of terror. Most memorable among his misdeeds was the time he'd staked twenty randomly selected citizens in town square and torched them to death, nearly burning down the city in the process.

Breaker ducked out from beneath the bridge and searched his surroundings with keen hazel eyes, listening for any sounds beyond the relentless drum roll of rainfall. He saw no one and heard nothing, so he moved swiftly across a cobbled street to press his back against the stone wall of an abandoned seamstress' shop. If history was any indicator, by now the City Watch would be firmly within Rutland's grips. For that reason Josh had arranged to meet Shinsou at a tavern near the city's fringe. Am'aleh herself had carried the message, for Josh rarely entrusted his words to paper.

"-can't bloody believe the captain dragged us out of bed for extra patrols in the rain." A voice echoed around the corner. Josh slipped into an alleyway that smelled of stale garbage. He flattened his back against the wall behind a small shed meant for storing firewood and waited.

"Don't I know it," came a second voice, along with the sloshing footsteps of two sets of boots. "At the moment I truly wish I'd moved my wife and the children to Radasanth last summer. You don't think the rumors are true, do you... about the Lunatic's return?"

Through a knothole in his wooden hiding place Josh saw two men turn into the alley. They wore heavy cloaks with the insignia of the City Watch over chain mail armor. Both were of an average height and medium build, one young and the other older and scarred. The young man shook his head.

"Can't be," he said with the confidence of youth, "the captain wouldn't work under such a-"

As the two guards passed his hiding place Breaker stood up suddenly between them. Their eyes widened in shock as his heavy hands landed on their necks. Josh squeezed gently, applying pressure to the arteries and veins either side of their throats. Both men clawed for their daggers but collapsed as blood flow to their brains was cut off.

Josh crouched and caught both guards as they fell, lifting their considerable combined weight on his broad shoulders. He walked a little deeper into the alley and kicked open a side door to the seamstress' shop. Inside smelled of must and mildew, and he dumped the sleeping guards on the dusty floor. Finding old bits of cloth to bind their wrists and ankles proved easy, and he left them there and closed the door behind him as best he could. They would escape in time, but likely not before he had his meeting with Shinsou.

Back out in the rain, Breaker flitted through the streets like a ghost. He had confidence in Shinsou's ability to invade the heavily guarded city. The man had more spells up his sleeve than a court-wizard and a uniquely clever mind, not to mention the resources of the Brotherhood of Castigars at his disposal. Josh liked Shinsou well and trusted the man implicitly. Although he had a somewhat checkered past, the Telgradian had forged a path to redemption at Breaker's side.

The street outside The Seaman's Shanty was blessedly empty, save for some soaked bits of trash blowing in the wind. Breaker entered through the main door and made directly for a corner table, sitting down without giving anyone a chance to recognize his abnormally scarred face. A serving girl came by to take his order and he turned away from her and asked for ale without any intention of drinking it. The place smelled of sawdust and sour wine. Fortunately only a few other patrons occupied the bar and tables. Breaker leaned back, producing a creak from the shifty chair, and waited for Shinsou.

One could have been forgiven for thinking that Serenti was out of place in a barony such as Tylmerande. On a map, the area seemed such a small and unassuming place; a town known more for its pearls and elven populace throughout the ages than its defensive capabilities. Even its reputation as a monastic outpost for the powerful Al’Brone didn’t quite live up to expectations, and it had made Shinsou wonder why the Lunatic of Serenti would choose such an odd location for a base of operations. Now, though, Osiris was starting to see why. Safely outside the view of the city limits, the Telgradian could see an irregularly large smattering of ironclad soldiers strangling the charm from the famous streets with their dull forms. Even at this hour, patrols swept the eerily quiet streets, staying vigilant against those who they had been told were intended for revolution.

Olin’s put the welcoming committee out alright. He must be shitting himself if he’s putting out that many patrols – there’s even a picket up the road. It’s probably the most professional attempt at a night’s watch I’ve seen yet. Still, if he thinks I’d just walk in through the front door he has another thing coming.

A few minutes later, Shinsou had gotten within a few hundred feet of the town gate. Eyeing the perimeter, he spotted a few rosy, puffed out looking faces patrolling the border. Unlike the vigilant, steely glares of the hawkeyed sentries out front, these faces sagged from the cold and the rain and their gazes seemed to trail off into the infinite beyond. It was always good to see those kinds of expressions on duty; it would seem highly unlikely that any of them would be concentrating enough to spot him when their main concern was what time their shift was over and where the warmest place to stand would be.

Where there’s a professional guard, there’s always someone you can count on to be the clockwatchers, and clockwatchers hate the cold.

Ever thinking behind his stoic visage, Shinsou began formulating a plan. He was nothing if not forward thinking, and introduced a little icy mist into the palms of his hands after removing the gloves. Slowly, Osiris reached out as if casting a line, willing the creeping fog to sneak through the side gate and hang in the air a little so as to not be too obvious. The strategy of the whole thing pleased the Telgradian. Already shivering from the rain, the sudden drop in temperature around the two men made them visibly uncomfortable. Shinsou waited for his opportunity as the low light of morning began to tease at the horizon behind him. Darkness would not provide him cover forever.

“Is it me, or has it gone a bit chilly?” The first voice spoke out within earshot of Osiris. His fellow rotund guardsman nodded. “Perked up a bit, that’s for sure. This rain is like sleet now and I’m freezing my tits off. Let’s go stand by the chimney of the ironmongers for a bit and warm up. It’ll only take a few minutes, no-one will notice. Besides, this place is on lockdown.”

Yeah, watertight you morons. Enjoy.

With a smile, Shinsou crouched and approached the gate, remaining hidden in the dense brush beneath the rain, the picket well behind him now. Ahead, on the left, the Seaman’s Shanty dwarfed the buildings around it. It was a crooked but quaint sort of building, propped up by its smooth, whitewashed limestone walls and protected from the elements by a brittle slate roof that looked as if it was barely holding together. Almost any time someone shut the heavy front door, fragments of splintered shale tile would rain down over the pavement and pepper the road below. A quick glance revealed an alleyway side door, one that would ensure Shinsou could get in without even having to grace the main square with his presence.

True to its dilapidated state, the tavern’s turn out was less than impressive and exactly what Osiris needed, even more so as he looked to take refuge from the both the town watch’s finest and the bitter sting of the rain. Through the frosted glass windows, it was clear to see a handful of the guardsmen’s shadows creeping about. A chorus of orders leapt through the crevices of the doors and windows as Shinsou paced the oaken floor and finally found his man.

Joshua Cronen was seated in the corner opposite, his scarred face enveloped in the shadows of the poorly lit room. The waitress brought a tankard of ale and turned away after placing it on the table without a word, but the man barely looked up as Osiris scraped a chair across the wooden floor.

“Between us…” Shinsou muttered, seating himself parallel to Cronen, “I’d say we pretty much keep the taverns of Althanas in business. Good to see you safe, friend.”

"It's good to spread the gold around," Breaker said with a grin, "and this business does keep us traveling. I'm glad to see you well." He sat relaxed in his chair with his gaze fixed on the table, and yet his senses encompassed the entire tavern. In the kitchen he could hear serving girls scraping plates beneath the cacophony of cooks clanging pans. Behind the counter he listened in on a whispered conversation between two servers. He could have quoted the orders from any of the tables. It all came together in a harmonious hum, a rhythm of natural noise he could depend upon.

"Rotten weather," Shinsou commented, "have you been in town long?" The Telgradian ordered ale from an approaching waitress with a flick of a single finger that sent her scurrying back to the bar.

"Only just arrived," Breaker said, cocking his head to one side. He heard something change in the kitchen, something that disturbed the flow of the busy room. "I assume you got past the welcoming committee without trouble?" He asked in a near whisper. Shinsou scoffed.

"These folks couldn't keep a fox out of a chicken coop," the Telgradian murmured as the waitress returned with his ale. He nodded thanks and slipped the girl a gold coin.

"You needn't have paid for that," Josh said, turning his head back the other way. Heavy footsteps echoed from the kitchen along with the menacing jangle of chain mail.

"Why not?" Shinsou asked around a mouthful of ale, his voice garbled by the earthenware mug.

"Because there's about to be a brawl in this bar," Josh responded.

Guardsmen filtered out of the kitchen through the double doors behind the counter. They moved slowly and with purpose, yet their armor still rattled and their breathing betrayed tense bodies. As their numbers grew to more than a dozen they dispersed among the other occupied tables, conversing with the patrons in hushed tones. One at a time the tavern-goers got up and left, trudging out into the pouring rain. Shinsou watched the proceedings over Breaker's shoulder, his back to the wall. The Telgradian took a long pull of ale and then laced his fingers and cracked his knuckles.

"They've packed the staff all safely into the kitchen," he observed, as casually as when he'd spoken about the weather, "were you followed?"

"Definitely not," Breaker said. He heard two of the guards steal up behind him while the others fanned out across the room. "Were you?"

"Not a soul saw me," Shinsou said idly. He placed his hands behind his head and leaned back as if waiting on a warm meal.

Josh stood up suddenly and whirled around, lifting his chair and smashing it across the chests of the first two guardsmen. Wood splintered and the burly fellows were sent crashing backwards into tables, both gasping for air. Josh rolled his shoulders and watched the remaining dozen guards draw weapons and close ranks.

"Reckon we can handle this lot?" Shinsou asked, standing in the space Cronen had created. His enchanted mythril sword whispered from its scabbard.

"I'd wager we can do so without killing," Josh said pointedly. He picked up their table, ale splashing to the floor, and tossed it at the pair of guards nearest the front door. One of them was swift enough to sidestep the projectile but the other wound up trapped beneath it.

"Fair terms," Shinsou said. He advanced on a block of four guards, attacking amidst a facade of fakes and feints. He disarmed two of the armored men swiftly and dusted their pates with blows from his pommel, sending them crashing to the ground. The remaining two were battered backwards by an onslaught of thrusts and slashes, using all of their skill to keep the Telgradian's blade at bay.

Breaker moved among the last eight guards like steam blasting from a kettle, presenting targets for their weapons and then twisting aside. Axes thunked into tabletops and daggers careened off of chain mail as the guards hacked and stabbed everything other than the demigod. He answered them with open handed blows, little love taps that sent them slumping to the ground unconscious. Josh fought his way to the front of the room and opened the door, holding it for Shinsou.

The Telgradian stalked backwards out of the tavern, sword still carving venomous patterns in the air, keeping the few remaining guards at bay.

Josh slammed the door and placed his hands flat on its surface as shingles littered the street from above. The demigod drew raindrops from the air and encased the doorway in a layer of ice as strong as steel. He heard the guardsmen crashing into the sealed portal, and one called orders for the others to try the side door.

"Quickly, this way." Josh said, and raced down the road with Shinsou in his wake. Their boots splashed through puddles and battered cobbled stone as they ran back to the bridge where Breaker had emerged. They glanced about and, seeing no watchers, ducked beneath the broad platform.

"How could they have found us so quickly?" Cronen mused, crouched comfortably and watching rain spatter the ground beside the bridge.

"Not to worry," Shinsou gasped, doubled over. He was winded from keeping the demigod's pace in their flight. "I have a plan..."

~*~

Olin Rutland rather loathed the rain, even when observing it through a window while reclining in a comfortable chair. He sat in the study in his manor house, fingers steepled, watching water slide down the thick glass. A clerk and a serving girl stood in the corner wearing the former lord's livery, waiting on Rutland's command. Every so often the Lunatic would draw a sharp breath and look their way, only to relax, saying nothing. He liked the way it made them flinch.

Heavy boots rang on the floor in the hall, and then Hornsby opened the door and stepped in, again tracking mud behind him. The serving girl winced and shuddered. She'd been the one to clean the kitchen after Darrin's last visit.

"We found them," Hornsby said flatly, thumbing the scar at the corner of his mouth that gave him a perpetual grimace.

"Already?" Olin demanded, leaping up from his leather chair. He'd been hoping the rain would stop before his prisoners arrived. The damp reminded him of Terrinore Isle. "How?" He pulled at his short, greasy brown hair, sharp voice ringing off the study's rafters.

"Just doin' as you ordered," Hornsby said, studying the window. "We tripled patrols and happened upon them in a tavern. They only just escaped." He adjusted his broad sword belt and scratched at a large ear.

"Wait just a moment," Olin said, pacing the length of the Fallieni throw rug that dominated the center of the room. "You're saying," he breathed rapidly through his teeth a few times, air whistling hollowly. "You're saying you were clever enough to corner them, but stupid enough to let them slip away?" He stamped one foot and then, unsatisfied with the result, stepped off the rug and jumped and stamped both feet. "I don't believe you!" He screamed. He rounded on Hornsby and stood toe-to-toe with the enforcer, close enough to smell eggs on the big man's breath.

"Alright," Darrin said, taking a step backwards. Although he stood a head taller than Olin and was nearly twice as wide, the enforcer felt concerned for his safety whenever he got close to the Lunatic. "I had some help finding them." His eyes widened as though he did not believe what he was about to say. "Draconus spoke to me."

"What?" Olin breathed. His cold blue eyes bored holes in Hornsby's head. "Draconus the deity, who Roderick claims rescued us from Terrinore? Why would he speak to you?" The Lunatic spat.

"I dunno," the enforcer said, shuffling his feet. "But I heard a voice in my head, loud and blaring like Roderick said. It commanded me to gather my strongest men and get to a tavern called the Seaman's Shanty." Hornsby shrugged, "It didn't occur to me to disobey."

"Of course not," Olin chided, turning to pace up and down the rug once more, "I'm sure little enough occurs to you. And how is it that you and your strongest men failed to capture two enemies?"

"They fought like wild beasts," Hornsby claimed, his hands becoming fists, "I sent fourteen men after them, and not one emerged unscathed."

"You don't appear injured," Olin said, pausing in his pacing to examine the enforcer.

"I... watched from the kitchen." Hornsby admitted, studying the muddy floor beneath his boots.

Olin turned and drove his fist into Darrin's face. He probably hurt his hand more than the enforcer's anvil of a chin, but it still felt good.

"Well get back out there," the Lunatic seethed, cradling his wrist, "and keep watching until you bloody well find them!" Hornsby nodded and rubbed his jaw, ducking out of the room without another word. Olin paced the length of the rug several times over before pausing with his frigid gaze fixed on the clerk in the corner. "You!" He spat, "put quill to paper for me."

The clerk, a worried expression in his eyes, swiftly took a seat at the study's long desk and dipped a feathered quill into an inkwell. He dabbed it on the stained blotter and looked up, at the ready.

"Dear Roderick," Olin dictated in a sickly sweet voice, "no wait, dearest Roderick. No, cross that out. I said CROSS IT OUT!" He bellowed as the clerk reached for a fresh bit of parchment. The timid man obediently drew crooked lines through the words and looked up again, his hand trembling slightly.

Olin smiled and composed himself, gazing at the pretty serving girl until she shuddered a second time.

"My darling Roderick," Olin began, and nodded his satisfaction with the word choice. "My darling Roderick, your presence is required in Serenti, for we've found the rats that killed Smarteye scurrying about beneath our very noses..."

The light of the moon had faded out some time ago; the progression of dawn’s light creeping across the sky told Shinsou it had been roughly three hours since they were ambushed at the pub. Satisfied they had lost their tail, the Telgradian pulled the curtains to and turned away. The interior of the Serenti home was eerily quiet; the only sound being the faint morning breeze brushing past the cracks in the wood of the window panes. Osiris had taken care to lock the doors, ensuring the pair had security enough to see out the day, but once those bolts had been latched a cold feeling swept over him.

The house around them looked like it had been abandoned for so long. Its once-quaint rooms with their small vaults and low wooden arches now seemed somehow filled with an empty sorrow. As he looked around, Shinsou got a feeling that the fond memories of what would have been a once happy household had been torn apart by something, although he couldn’t place what. It had been a long time since the hearty laughter of a family filled the rooms with cheer.

“So, what’s the plan?” Joshua Cronen stirred Shinsou from his thoughts. He sat with his back pressed against the living room wall, the fabric of his dress shirt managing to soften the pressing, rough texture of the stone enough that he was somewhat comfortable.

“We’re going to get nowhere by running around town aimlessly. We have no idea where that bastard Olin actually is and the likelihood is that the watch will remember our faces well enough to spot us on first sight.” Shinsou’s legs were folded loosely before him as he perched on a dusty chair and his hands rested atop them, gently cooled by the night air.

Breaker nodded, eyes cast to the floor momentarily in thought. Shinsou continued.

“But, we do have a small window of opportunity. The night’s watch will hand over to the day watch at first light, by my reckoning. There will be a report of what happened and details of what we look like will doubtless be passed on. But they will be vague descriptions at best; taken in the heat of the moment in the dark. How accurate a picture do you think any one of those guards could have taken of us last night? It was dark and there was pandemonium.”

The Telgradian’s tired eyes flitted back to the window in time to catch dawn’s first light. “I know this flies in the face of everything we know about laying low, but our best chance now is to find some different clothes, mingle in the crowd during the day and try to learn what we can about Olin before the night watch come back on. We have nine, maybe ten hours, assuming the day watch are slow on the uptake.”

Silent, Shinsou rose to his feet and blinked slowly, rubbing the bleariness from his eyes with the heel of his hand. Breaker, who didn’t suffer fatigue the same way that most mortals did, stood with him for a moment with a look of concern etched on his face. Osiris shook his head.

“I’m fine, honestly. Let’s keep going – every minute I sleep is a minute of opportunity wasted. We can rest when we know where Olin is.”

Drawing in a deep breath, he went to the window once more but this time at the south side of the house that looked out over Serenti. The marketplace was a two or three minute walk from their safe-house and in an hour or so the townspeople would begin their morning bustle as they shopped for wares. That would be their moment – in the safety of the crowds, they’d dash out to the tailor, buy some new, unassuming threads and bin or store their old clothes somewhere.

That’d buy us a bit of time. Huh?

His vision, blurred from the sleep deprivation he had so far denied, had failed him. Through the window, milling about in the murky morning, a small three man patrol in night’s watch fatigues seemed to simply materialize out of an alleyway over the road. The lead soldier, his eyes drawn to him, his dark hair spilling down his back and over the Serenti watch insignia which marked his rank, noticed Shinsou gazing at him through the window. His expression shifted subtly as the memory of the night’s ruckus at the inn came to him along with the face responsible; eyes opening a degree wider than before, his jaw muscles flexed -- and said something inaudible to his colleagues.

After a moment’s conference, the patrol began to run towards the house.

“Shit! Breaker, we’ve been made!”

Shinsou’s hand leapt to Shira’s hilt, his fingers finding the rough chords that made up its grip. A quick look to the two doors in the building confirmed the locks were in place, but he knew it was a matter of time before they would be broken. He couldn’t use his ice magic here either; there wouldn’t be enough time to seal the entrance.

“We were careless, but one patrol shouldn’t be too much of a problem.” Breaker slid up the wall, pulling himself up and running a hand over his head. The lazy way in which he moved completely undersold the power which the man wielded. “Get ready.”

"Open up!" The guard’s fists hammered on thick wood. The pair said nothing, only turning their faces to the house’s entrance, ready. As armoured feet began to smash at the wood, the metal bolts started to give. They were like paperclips in the face of the heavy blows being rained down upon them.

Shinsou’s answer came in the form of magic. He took off his right glove, wordless, as he shut his eyes and splayed his fingers outwards. The air became colder as he squeezed his tired eyes, willing particles of ice to converge within his palm. Something wooden thumped against the shaking doorframe, a personal battering ram utilized by the guards. In that instance, a bright white glow burst forth from Shinsou’s outstretched hand and cannoned through the door at a terrifying velocity. The pain of the recoil lingered with the Telgradian for a moment, the man still not used to his new powers, before fading.

Drawing in a deep breath, he looked first towards Breaker, and then ahead. A hole four foot in diameter had been punched through the door, although somehow the frame still stood tall and strong in front of him. Some thirty feet before him, a corridor of ice stretched out in a cone. The guards were distributed liberally across the empty square, their armour coated in crystalline ice an inch thick and their faces glazed in place as if they had been encased in glass. They were suffocating within their seals and now there was nothing that either Breaker or Shinsou could do to stop the inevitable.

“We have to go.” Osiris buttoned his coat, stating the obvious. Breaker nodded as they moved like wraiths through the breach in the door and turned right towards the less populated part of town.

A minute behind them, chaos reigned as messages of the assault on the hideout reached the ears of the other watchmen and they began to mobilize and converge on the now empty house. However, Olin, wanting no loose ends, had played a wildcard in this game of cat and mouse long before the first patrol had spotted the Telgradian.

That wildcard was a gift from Draconus himself; a blur that moved in and out of the roads and winding corridors of the city, crouching as she approached Serenti’s limits. A leap onto a nearby roof served as an excellent vantage point. Creeping forward slightly to the lip of the shale, the black-clad woman could see Olin’s prey sprint with purpose through the city’s urban intestines.

Draconus and Olin would be pleased.

The silver haired woman glided from rooftop to rooftop, barely disturbing the tiles as she went. Without a sound she leapt forward quickly, hands drawn to one of the low lying timber beams of the houses before using her momentum to vault onto the second to last building in the outskirts of Serenti. The woman was confident about her options; to her left, a final high building out of sight invited her. It seemed the most effective option, boasting a high vantage point that overlooked her targets.

Her shimmering hair trailing behind her, the woman moved with cat-like agility up to the final rooftop, her grappling claws of iron digging into the masonry. Once atop the structure, she waited. A few moments needed to pass to ensure that Shinsou and Breaker had her out of their line of sight. Time seemed to be suspended as they stopped and conferred.

Another thirty seconds passed before the opportune moment arrived; the men reaching the exact point where no-one would witness the assault. She knew that Breaker was her primary target; the means with which to deal with subduing his legendary strength well within her hands thanks to Draconus. The Telgradian just needed to be dealt with first.

With an athletic pounce, the woman cannoned into the air and raced towards Shinsou. Osiris hadn’t a clue what was happening until it was already too late.

“Shi-“

His eyes looked into the distance, expressionless, as a clubbed fist buried itself into the back of his neck and knocked him out. Breaker had sensed something, a disturbance in the air around him, and had turned to face the threat just in time to see the woman send Shinsou crumpling to the floor thanks to a single, well timed blow. Though her features were obscured by a silver mask, her platinum hair draped down her shoulders aghast the black body suit she wore. In her right hand, a pair of glowing shackles dangled loosely, their chains rattling through the silence. Its weight was greater than such a trinket should have possessed. Suddenly, something pulled at Joshua’s left side, tugging him, as though he were bound by cables that were trying to pull him to the earth, to ground him.

“What?!” He exclaimed as unknown forces clawed at him. It was as if the gravity of the planet himself was pressing him into the floor, his scarred face screwing up with the effort of keeping his balance.

“The Shackles of Titan,” The female assassin explained in a shrill voice, one that seemed to be distorted by the effects of the mask. “Crafted especially for you, the one they call Breaker. Whilst I have these, your legendary strength, your abilities, they count for nothing. Draconus himself forged these. You bend to Olin’s will now, Cronen. As for him,” She gestured to Shinsou’s body, “He can be left for the guard’s amusement.”

As Breaker stuggled against the oppressive magic that pinned him to the floor, the woman strode over and clapped the glowing fiery shackles around his paralysed wrists. Handcuffed, and for the first time feeling a sense of ultimate vulnerability, the man in black remained poised in the face of disaster as he felt his powers wane.

Breaker’s captor hauled his lithe frame up from the road’s surface and began to frogmarch him away. As the concrete jungle swerved away from him, the last thing his eyes caught was the unconscious form of the Telgradian strewn across the floor.

"I've got this one," the woman in the silver mask called to an approaching patrol, "you lot see to the other." She jerked a thumb over her shoulder at the Telgradian's prone form and shoved Breaker to keep him moving.

"Aye ma'am," the leader of the group had a large purple bruise on his face left over from the brawl at the Seaman's Shanty. As he passed the woman and her prisoner he detoured enough to spit in Breaker's face. "That's what I think of your ilk." He snarled.

Josh kneed the man between the legs as hard as he could, dropping him on the spot. The demigod reared backward, striking his captor square in her silver mask, and then snapped his head forward, splitting another guard's lip. They could sap his strength, and they could block his magical abilities, but they could not take the fight out of Breaker. He laughed as another man in a cloak of the watch punched him in the jaw and screamed, the small bones in his hand broken by the impact.

"Not like that, you fools!" The masked woman cursed. She unhooked a short cudgel form her belt and advanced behind the demigod. "He may as well be forged from adamantine. Use your weapons, but don't kill him!"

Breaker was battered to his knees by a hail of sword hilts, axe hafts, and studded clubs. The blows rained down harder, forcing him flat in the street. He twisted around beneath grasping hands, spitting out blood and spying the spot where Shinsou had lain. A mote of victory wafted through Breaker's mind as he was lifted and borne away. The Telgradian was gone. Shinsou had escaped.

~*~

The rain relented as day dawned, and Olin Rutland ventured into his manor's front yard. Muddy grass squished beneath his boots and a gentle breeze tickled his short hair. The Lunatic raised both hands above his head and breathed deeply as rays of sunlight parted the boorish clouds. He stretched to one side and then the other, loosening his waist, and then danced a merry jig around a small cedar sapling sprouting from the moist soil.

"Olin," Hornsby's voice hailed him and the Lunatic froze mid-jig. He looked over with one hand and one foot still uplifted and spied the enforcer approaching with a group of guards at his back. "We've got one of them," Hornsby called, a triumphant smile splitting his ugly face.

"Which?" Rutland asked, resuming his dance. "Oh please-please-please let it be the Break-er. Otherwise I may just have to break-her! Ha!" He jigged across the grass between them and clapped a thin arm round Hornsby's shoulders.

"It is the Breaker," Hornsby said, shivering slightly at the Lunatic's affectionate touch. "The woman got him. Apparently even with the Shackles of Titan it took a half dozen men to corral him. They're taking him to the town square now, as you requested."

"Beautiful!" Olin cried, and kissed Hornsby on both cheeks. "Lead on then, Darrin!" The two men fell into step along the cobblestone streets with the guards trailing behind. "We've heard so much about this Breaker's might, and his skills for magic," Olin cooed, practically skipping along. "But no one can tell me what I truly desire to know."

"What's that?" Hornsby asked in the awkward silence that followed. He could hear the guards whispering behind them.

"I wish to know," Olin said with a broad wink, "how hot the fire needs to be before a demigod will burn!"

~*~

Breaker strained against the manacles in vain. The guards had attached the Titan Shackles to a longer chain and looped it around a large stake several times. Josh could feel the coarse bark of the recently carved tree trunk through the back of his thin black shirt. Beneath his bare feet the cobblestones of Serenti Square felt coarse and hard. They'd taken his boots as a prize, apparently Rutland had requested them. Breaker breathed in and out and rolled his shoulders as much as the chains allowed, and looked out across his captors.

A mere twenty paces away stood the captain of the guard. The man with salt-and-pepper hair stood ramrod straight, head rotating from side to side as he kept a stern eye on his underlings. Several paces behind him lurked Winchell Hackney. The puppet master pulled his invisible strings, and even without his magic Josh could tell the man controlled the guard captain's movements and words. Perhaps two score people filled the square, many guardsmen, others citizens who had come out to watch the sickly spectacle.

The crowd parted as Olin Rutland and Darrin Hornsby approached. The Lunatic of Serenti was garbed all in white, his cloak seeming to sparkle in the morning sun. The enforcer at his side wore drab colors and an expression to match, but brightened slightly as Olin unhooked their arms and strode forward to stare into Breaker's face.

"So you are the People's Champion," the Lunatic scoffed, giving his prisoner a gap-toothed grin. "The Granite Phantom. The Breaker of Scara Brae!" He cackled, throwing back his head so his laughter ascended the heavens. He reached out a grubby hand and tapped Cronen's forehead. "You are far too valuable a prize to sit here at street level. You should hover above the rest of us, like a glowing angel!" He signaled to two groups of men that stood at the ready, long ropes gripped in their hands.

"Heave!" The men called, and they pulled as one body.

Breaker felt his feet leave the ground as the long ropes lifted the log he was manacled to. The chains chafed at his wrists as the stake was hauled upwards by cords looped around lofty chimneys.

"Stop there!" Olin cried as Breaker reached a height of twenty feet. "Tie those ropes off and build the bonfire beneath him." Men raced to comply with armloads of wood and tinder, the guard captain shouting after them to pick up the pace. "Now, where are these bloody boots I've heard so much about?" Olin called. The woman in the silver mask brought them forward, presenting Breaker's fabled footwear with a bow and a flourish. Olin sat in the street and pulled his own boots off, donning the metal pair and dancing about. "These like me well," he declared, "even if they are a little large!" His jig carried him to the corner of the woodpile and he fumbled through his pockets until he found a book of matches.

The Lunatic looked up at his prisoner, hanging helpless high above, and struck a match.

"I once was the prisoner, but now it's my turn," he sang, "to dance in the streets, and watch my enemies burn!" He tossed the match into a pile of parchment. It ignited immediately, and the first orange flames lapped at the tall pile of wood.

Fury, vehemence, wrath, anger and rage; Shinsou had run out of superlatives for the burning disdain that was coursing through his veins as he held a chunk of self-made ice against the swelling on the back of his head from where that girl had struck him. Icy gashes lacerated parts of the wooden cladding in the empty house he had accosted for his escape, the hallmarks of spent patience. After the ridiculous, and perhaps slightly childish, outburst the Telgradian had finally calmed himself and took a moment to analyse the situation.

She had to be one of Olin’s top assassins to have got the drop on us both so humiliatingly. Even if I wasn’t quick enough to react, what about Breaker? His powers are far superior to mine. Did he escape?

The Telgradian pocketed his free hand in the silk pocket of his trousers and spied out from the safety of his room. The house faced an alleyway, and was tucked away in the back streets of Serenti. His senses couldn’t pick up on Breaker’s power anywhere. His soul had completely vanished from his register; a soul that was usually so potent it could be felt for miles.

Where are you?

Unsure of what the hell else he should do, Shinsou leaned against a wall, ice still pressed upon the sore lump on the top of his neck, before turning his attention to the windows. He opened them, allowing the scents of must and mildew to escape and be replaced with thick, fresh Serenti air.

As Shinsou slumped under the pane, lost in thought, the city air filled his lungs and cleansed him. He listened as children ran past the window towards the square, stumbling about as they pushed and pulled each other. Other footsteps followed, gathering in both pace and mass, until the Telgradian realised there seemed to be a steady stream of people heading past “his” house. The cobbled backstreets of Serenti were always sparsely populated, being nothing more than a small passageway connecting other small passageways, so Osiris wondered what in the gods was going on.

He got his answer soon after.

As more people flocked past, Shinsou’s ears pricked up. A pair of Olin’s day watchmen were talking.

“The silver haired one? They call her the Hierophant. Got that son-of-a-bitch Cronen by the scrotum I hear.”

There was a grunt as a second guard joined the fray. “She can’t be that good, letting that other tosser get away. Man up and vanished like a fart in the wind! Nothing left but some damn blood on the pavement. Mark my words, we’ll find him though.”

I’ll find you first, chums. Don’t you fucking worry about that. Shinsou was always thirsty to drink in the offerings of the loose lips of the guards. What stole his attention this afternoon was ultimately even more captivating.

“She didn’t need him.” The first guard reproved, just edging past the open pane Shinsou was ducked under. “Breaker is the threat. We’ll find that other cunt soon enough and he will do the hardest time there is. No more protection from Cronen.”

As the guards moved on past his house, Shinsou had time to snag the second guard’s final words.

“He’ll think he’s been fucked by a train! Anyway, we have us a little Breaker barbecue in the square to attend to. If that Osiris is still alive, he’ll see the flames for miles. We’ll be ready for him.”

As the voices trailed off, a thin grin crept across Shinsou’s bruised face. He was beginning to realise that when you had a problem, and the odds were stacked against you, you should never underestimate the predictability of stupidity. Someone was always bound to say something moronic and at the wrong time.

Usually, that someone was a guard. On queue with their fast tongues, Serenti’s finest had not let him down.

Watch ye therefore: for ye know not when the master of the house cometh.

~*~

With the guards swarming, Shinsou Vaan Osiris knew that movement on street level was out of the question, so the slim man climbed the still icy, pot-marked stairs to upper level of the house where he found a small but stable balcony. All of Serenti’s houses this side of the square had them and, though they were small, they were sturdy enough to carry his weight. Shinsou’s clothes taut against him and Shira tucked firmly under his arm, he confidently strode upon the top of the balcony railing, kicking away to leap the small gap that he needed to jump to the opposing balcony across the way. A single kick was all it took to propel him across, leaving only a single loud creak in his wake. Landing with sturdy feet upon the oak boarded roof of the adjacent house, Shinsou marked with his eyes a path of rooftops that would secure him exodus towards where they were holding Breaker.

They’ll know I’m coming. Shinsou thought as he took the next leap over to a butcher’s shop roof, Good. It’ll save me the trouble of looking for them all. As for that Hierophant, she should have killed me when she had the chance.

Parking this thought for a moment, he wondered momentarily what had happened to Breaker for the man to no longer register on his senses. It was obvious from the guard’s words he was still in Serenti, so where had all of that power gone? Well, it wouldn’t matter for long. The Telgradian was planning to be a nuisance for Olin. Soon enough, he would have his answers.

As he darted from rooftop to rooftop, his strength and athleticism driving him forward at a blistering pace, Shinsou felt a growing confidence in his progress. It wasn’t long before the town square opened up beyond the lip of the shale roof of the last house, and the scene of the execution unfolded before him.

Son of a bitch…

There he was, Joshua Cronen, hoisted high and barefoot above a bonfire. The demi-god appeared to be struggling against the manacles in vain; huge glowing shackles that had been tied around a huge tree trunk several times. Breaker’s lungs heaved in and out as the man tried to avoid the smoke that billowed up towards him, making him cough and splutter. Beneath him, looking exceptionally pleased with himself, was Olin. The Lunatic of Serenti was smothered in white, ironically making him look like some holy priest, and apparently goading his charge as the flames leapt up. The enforcer at his side, the one people referred to as Hornsby, wore grey and seemed equally as happy about Breaker’s situation.

That son-of-a-bitch. Wait, Cronen’s struggling? What the fuck happened to his strength?

There was no more time to ponder. Instead, it was time to plan. The hazard to Shinsou was his increased visibility against the gray skyline. He had to act fast and furiously, but the priority had to be that fire.

Behind Shinsou, a few feet above the crest of his oaken hair, mysterious arcane energies began to meld together on the rooftop. Forking, icy tendrils of white convulsed and converged around each other to form a fifteen foot wide frozen circular portal. The sheer arctic power of the magic chewed into the grimy tile work behind the Telgradian, coating a massive semi-circle around him in crystalline ice and leaving a whistling expanse of space where solid stone used to be beneath it.

Out of the snowy chasm that gaped behind him protruded twenty thin, dangerous spears of dehlar strength ice. Three would extinguish the flames of the bonfire, with each spear being able to freeze an area, on impact, up to five foot each. No flame stronger than dehlar would melt it. Seven would be enough to deal with Breaker’s manacles. The rest?

Olin was going to feel them, alright.

By now, the crowd was starting to thicken, with still bystanders and rubberneckers ambling about. Shinsou didn’t want to hurt the population of Serenti, but Olin was right there; exposed. It was tough luck; there was no more time to wait.

The spears hung there with an ethereal hum as they waited for an order.

Without even having to motion, Shinsou commanded a storm of projectiles to attack at once. They shot out of the portal and wildly tore towards their intended recipients, their frigid power ripping at the cobblestone around them and freezing the surface of the road as they travelled. As the first three struck the bonfire, a terrible hiss preceded a shimmering spread of crystal blue over its wooden peak; a cloud of cool steam replacing the flames that had licked at Breaker’s legs. The seven that followed struck critical points of the shackles, but instead of breaking the chains simply froze their metal solid. They would surely be fragile enough to shatter, now, but that was up to Breaker.

The remaining ten steamed towards Olin, who, startled by the procession of magic, had turned.

Shit, Shinsou thought as Breaker’s captor clocked on to what was happening, he’s going to…

It was already too late. Olin had turned, instead cowardly pushing Hornsby into the trajectory of Osiris’s deadly attack. In the split second he had, the enforcer tried to dive away. However, the spray of icy ballistics came not in some logical procession, but rather in a singular, horrible blast that covered the entirety of the space through which Olin’s right hand man travelled.

It was an inescapable explosion of artic horror.

Despite his leap, Hornsby felt the spears hit him with tremendous force on his left side, piercing through his arm and driving firmly into his side before coming to rest somewhere in his chest cavity. The man was barrelled by the impact, the sheer force making him land hard on his side and come to a skidding, tearing halt upon the unforgiving cobblestone street just at the base of Breaker’s stake. The terrible wound he had suffered claimed him immediately. Members of the crowd were dispersing all around his shambling corpse and hesitated to even look at the horror that had manifested before them

Through the snowy trail of his powerful volley, Shinsou gave the implacable Olin an incredulous stare from atop the roof.

You yellow little shit. He murmured, drawing Shira from underneath his arm. As the Telgradian carved a path of ice down from the roof, each step he took forming a stair until a full flight of marine blue crystal led him safely to the square floor, he felt his own brand of fire grow.

There would be no mercy today. Especially not for cowards like Olin.

A thickened cloud of acrid smoke enveloped Breaker as Shinsou's ice smothered the fire. His feet stung raw and red where the flames had licked. A burning sensation filled his eyes, nose, mouth, and lungs. His chest heaved, and yet he knew he must act on the opportunity created by the Telgradian.

Josh curled his legs in to his chest and rotated forward, standing sideways on the tree trunk and straining against the chains. They shifted and clicked but held fast. The log felt immovably sturdy, and the Shackles of Titan could contain a Thayne, but the chains connecting the two were plain iron, and weakened by Shinsou's attack. As the smoke cleared Breaker took a deep breath, a breath to the very bottom of his soul. He bunched the muscles in his legs and surged forward. The chains broke amidst a shattering of ice, and Breaker leaped free of the tree trunk.

He landed heavily, cobblestones cracking beneath blistered feet. The Shackles of Titan still bound his hands in front, but he needed none of his great power. Through watering eyes he watched his Telgradian compatriot fighting towards Olin, facing a half dozen guards at a time, the ice blade Shira flashing in the sunlight. However Osiris' path had carried him closer to the captain of the guard, and the puppetmaster lurking behind him.

"Shinsou!" Breaker called over the sounds of combat and the screams of civilians. He pointed with both hands. "Kill Hackney!"

The guard captain suddenly set to screaming orders, commanding men to rally to his captor's defense.

"No!" Olin cried as he saw Breaker turn towards him, "to me, guards to me!" Confused, some of the men stayed with the Lunatic while others leaped to challenge Shinsou.

Josh waded through the throng of guards, disarming and disabling any who dared obstruct him. Folk often spoke of his great powers, forgetting the legendary skill wielded by the demigod. The weapons of the mortals could not touch him, and soon Breaker bore down on Olin like a loosed bull.

The Lunatic cackled and tried to flee, but tripped over the oversized boots he wore. His white cloak splayed on the ground around him as he rolled to his back, eyes wide with horror.

Breaker pounced on Olin, pinning him against the cobblestones, both shackled hands closing around the Lunatic's throat. He did not need his great strength to throttle the small, sickly man. Olin choked and gasped, still laughing with his last breaths as the life was strangled out of him.

As Josh stood he watched Shinsou slide behind Winchell Hackney and slit the puppetmaster's throat. In a wave of crimson the man fell, and in the same moment the captain of the guard gasped as if coming up from a prolonged dive. He nearly collapsed to his knees, but his strict military mind kept him standing. He drew in air and shouted loud enough for everyone in the square to hear.

"STOP. THIS. MADNESS! Guardsmen, sheathe your weapons! These men," the captain gestured at Josh and Shinsou, "are not criminals. They are our saviors, for the Lunatic had returned! Did none of you notice a difference in my behavior?" Mutters passed among the guards as they put up their weapons and recalled the strange orders they had received of late. "This man," he put an arm around Shinsou's shoulders, "saved me from their clutches. And this man," he paced toward Breaker, "has slain the Lunatic of Serenti! Unbind his hands!"

A guard came forward with the key, and the powerful chains came off. Breaker's powers returned like the swell of a rising tide. His muscles warmed, his senses sharpened, and his soul reconvened with the Eternal Tap.

"I'll keep these," Josh said, hanging the Shackles of Titan from his belt and rubbing his chafed wrists. Suddenly remembering the silver masked woman, he searched the square but saw no sign of her. It seemed she had slipped away in the confusion. "Shinsou," he said as the guard captain ordered his men to clean up the square and restore peace, "it seems I owe you a debt of gratitude." Breaker crouched next to Olin's corpse and retrieved his stolen boots. They came away easily, and the enchantments woven into the dark metal soothed his burned feet as he put them on. The leather interior was designed to mold to the shape of the wearer's feet, but strangely, they had not done so for the Lunatic of Serenti.

It seems my boots can spot a scoundrel as easily as I can.

The shifting wind brushed leaves from the square and shrapnel from Shinsou’s ice barrage over the bloodied, shambling corpse of the fallen Olin. Congratulations were uttered between the guardsmen and as the backslapping continued, the Telgradian’s eyes shifted to all corners of Serenti; his mind swaying back towards the Heirophant.

“We’re not done yet, Cronen,” Shinsou pointed out, “the woman who jumped us, who seems to be known as the Heirophant by the way, is still out there. She’s number one on my shit-list.”

Josh nodded, sidestepping as he put on the remaining of his enchanted boots. The sun he had been blocking lit the Telgradian’s path; bright white sunshine bathed the way in front of him, causing the town watch’s armour and Olin’s dragging corpse to glow like dirty stars. A gentle draft meandered lazily through the town, whispering over his shoulders and rustling at his white greatcoat.

“How did she get the drop on us?” The question that came from Shinsou’s lips was filled with a quiet anger. “Both of us can sense sentient beings; neither of us had a clue she was following us until it was too late. The question is, how? Why?”

The weight of the problem was greater than his tone suggested. It pulled at his mind as Shinsou recognized the burden it laid upon them. They would find it difficult to track her now and for all they knew she could have been long gone from Serenti. It had been several hours now since dawn.

“Shinsou Vaan Osiris and Joshua Cronen…”

The pair snapped from their pondering as a man pushed through an opening in the crowd, stepping into a small clearing containing the two men. Shinsou noted something was terribly wrong with the gentleman; his eyes were black, his skin as white as stripped and bleached bone. His voice had a different quality than human; as he spoke it was stark, synthetic, and bitter. The wind came rushing through a mop of grey hair, his tombstone-like teeth rattling against each other as the stranger tried to pluck up the energy to speak again.

“Gaze upon me and know.”

A small chain, almost like a severed manacle, twinkled in the sunlight as it hung loosely from an emaciated wrist. The man’s other hand reached out and grasped it, holding it still. The Telgradian had turned his face up towards this phantom of a human, eyes steeled, and nostrils wide.

What the fuck is this about?

Exhaling loudly, the man gave a sigh and turned his face towards Joshua.

"You can run around as much as you wish; but you can never truly hide from me, scum. Know that I am Roderick; and I have returned. I am not as weak as the others; with me you are dealing with forces beyond your imagination. I’ll see you both very soon, but let me leave you with this parting gift."

Before him, where Shinsou’s eyes were cast, the man’s hand shifted to his side where a knife hung loosely in a leather pouch. Worried that he was about to be attacked, Osiris’s hand flew to Shira quickly but before anything else could be said or done, the knife was at the man’s own bristled throat. The salt white blade seemed to slide, undulate, like an oiled snake across the skin.

Shit!!

In a moment, the gruesome demonstration was over. Frightened gasps erupted from the crowd as the sickly man slit his own throat, collapsing in a fountain of blood. There wasn’t time for Shinsou and Breaker to do any more than exchange glances before something got inside the Telgradian’s head.

Everything faded to grey. The form of a shadow figure became more definite a moment later, the curves of her body rippling and all the angles appearing like the curved blade of a scimitar. A moment later, a woman of similar height stood before the stone faced Telgradian; a woman of no features. A voice he heard was unmistakably the same as Roderick’s from a moment ago before changing to that of a woman’s, but Shinsou couldn’t make out what was being said. The words were distorted and twisted in some way.

The featureless smoothness suddenly and very briefly bled colour to reveal the face of the Heirophant. It was quick; too quick to discern any real detail, but the momentary photograph in the Telgradian’s mind told him it his senses were finally gathering information about her soul. Something warm glimmered like a brilliant star in the darkness, out towards the furthest ends of Serenti, and as the scene suddenly shattered into a million fragments Osiris twisted his head back to Joshua Cronen.

Something hardened in the Telgradian's face, the sharpness of a knife edge glimmered in his golden eyes as they shot down to the newest corpse on the street and then back to the demi-god Breaker.

"I don’t know what’s going on, but I think I know where that bitch is."

As blood from Roderick's latest victim seeped through cracks in the cobblestones, Shinsou set off down an alleyway, the tails of his greatcoat flapping with his speed. Breaker jogged lightly at his side, feet hurting more with every step. He ignored the pain. The Shackles of Titan swung at his hip, and he had mind to clap them on someone else before the day ended. This Hierophant who could shield herself, from arcane detection and from his attentive ears, would make a fine prisoner. What secrets of power hid behind that silver mask? The others - Roderick and whatever remained of his band - had signed their death warrants when they escaped Terrinore Isle.

Breaker and Shinsou followed a network of side streets that led toward the sea. They raced past rubbish barrels, plowed through mud puddles, and swung around stone corners. As the sound of rolling waves and the smell of salt water reached them, Josh sensed the powerful presence of Roderick Rok. The demigod had fought a number of powerful telepaths in the past, and recognized the eldritch signature pulsating from the bell tower near the shore. A second energy signature, similar but weaker, stood next to the first.

"That must be Greyson Fawcett." Josh said as they slowed, Shinsou drawing Shira. "The murderer who learned Rok's art from the master."

The tower stood three stories high, its squared walls of limestone perhaps twenty yards long. A large brass bell peered through arches at the top, intended for ringing warnings to the citizens when enemy ships appeared on the horizon. A stout oaken door occupied the middle of the front wall, its brass hinges and knob too drab to reflect the sunlight.

"Let's take a direct approach," Shinsou said, holding his icecraft blade at the ready as he approached the door, "there's been enough f*cking around already." The Telgradian's face was a thundercloud, and lightning raged in his eyes.

Breaker blasted the door off its hinges with a solid kick from a metal boot. Shinsou ducked inside, moving at an angle, and Josh dove and rolled in the opposite direction to create confusion. He came to his feet in a loose fighting stance, peering into the shadowy center of the room.

Three figures huddled between the building's paired stout stone columns. One was familiar; her silver mask seemed to glisten despite the lack of light. Josh had never seen the men standing either side of her, but he could tell by the potency of their powers which was Rok and which was Fawcett. Roderick had broad shoulders despite his wasted form, and stood with an air of confidence and authority. The boy-faced Fawcett was shorter and slighter, and shrank behind his superior.

"Not yet, you two," Roderick said, tutting the air, "we're not prepared to deal with you just yet. Occupy the lads," he added, nodding to the Hierophant. He whisked Fawcett back toward the building's rear door.

Breaker and Shinsou circled to cut them off, but the lone woman stopped them with gouts of silver flame that leaped from her palms. The Telgradian and the demigod both countered with molten ice, extinguishing the sparkling fire before it could touch them. The back door slammed, sounding another escape for the former prisoners of Terrinore.

"A bit embarrassed, are we boys?" The Hierophant taunted, her hands upraised menacingly.

Cronen and Osiris met each other's eyes. They knew she was stalling, and that a swift victory remained their only option. They advanced on the woman in tandem from opposite sides, Shinsou with Shira raised, Breaker wielding his bare hands menacingly. Josh thrust out a palm and a beam of pure energy shot forth, shearing through one of the stone supports. The silver-masked woman recoiled as it crumbled, and then Shinsou struck like a seething viper. She drew her cudgel and turned back his icy blade, but from behind Breaker snapped a mighty kick. She ducked beneath the blow only to have Shinsou bring the flat of his sword down atop her head, stunning her so she dropped to the floor.

Moving like a spider finding a fly in its web, Breaker dragged her to the remaining limestone pillar and used the Shackles of Titan to bind her arms around it, pressing her back against the smooth stone.

"Those bracelets look fine and fashionable on you," Osiris commented, slapping the Hierophant's face lightly to rouse her, "they didn't go so well with my friend's complexion. Now it's time for you to talk-"

"We should get after the last two," Breaker reminded him. He could still sense Fawcett somewhere along the shoreline, but the strength of Roderick's signature had vanished back towards the heart of the city. "I lost Rok. Can you track him?"

The Telgradian concentrated a second and then nodded. "I'll take the big lad," he said, "you get the other, and then we'll meet back here to deal with that." He jerked his thumb at the woman manacled to the stone pillar.

"Stay strong," Breaker intoned, "Am'aleh's eyes watch over you." He could see the fatigue in Shinsou's face, but the man sheathed his blade and nodded, prepared to run a little more. Cronen went out the back door while Osiris used the front, both in pursuit of quarry they could not see, but sensed.

Though a fit man, each step up the shoreline’s incline felt to Shinsou like he was struggling up the side of a mountain. The biting cold of the coastal wind wore the skin on the back of his hands raw red, and when he was finished ascending up the pathway of large, jagged rocks, the Telgradian found himself panting. Despite the grim feeling inside him as fatigue set in, he felt comforted by the sensation in the pit of his stomach; the knowledge that Roderick was slowing down putting his mind at ease. Shinsou could feel his energy close by, and it was only a matter of time before Roderick came face to face with his maker – whoever that was.

The Telgradian let himself sink to the floor, sprawling low to blend in with the myriad of stone that had crumbled away over the decades and broken off from the cliff above. Sighing, he let his head fall back while he tried to catch a breath. His quarry wasn’t going anywhere; the path led to an enclosed part of the coast with high rock faces on one side and the deep blue Coronian sea on the other. Separating them were jagged crops of volcanic rock that formed a twisting labyrinth of black glass. The sky above Shinsou was a gorgeous, crystal clear shade of blue and the sun illuminated the maze ahead nicely.

If anything moves, I’ll see it, you son-of-a-bitch.

With a smile smoldering between his lips, the Telgradian rested for a moment. Then, just as he crouched further, he felt that tingling sensation in his stomach grow.

He’s moving…towards me?

Slowly, Shinsou climbed to his feet and allowed his eyes to fall upon the hulking form of the approaching Roderick. The bastard had clearly finally chosen a more honourable way out than to die cowering in some rocks in the shade, plucking up the courage to approach his stalker head on. Whilst this pleased the Telgradian, he wasn’t sure whether or not he was regretting not having just showered the area with dark matter and having had done with the man. It became obvious very quickly that reading about the Terrinore inmate in the morning edition of the Chronicle and then actually being in Rok’s presence were, ostensibly, two different matters entirely. The unimaginable size of the man sent a shiver down his spine. Though wasted from his former self, Roderick was not in bad shape. He’d had time since his escape to put on a few pounds, and now the man meant to use them to grind his pursuer into the dirt.

“I’m tired of running”, Roderick spat to signal his displeasure, unhooking a large warhammer from a sheath on his back, “I’m Roderick Rok. I don’t fucking run from anyone; especially not choir boys like you!”

“Funny. You only stopped when you realised you had nowhere to go,” Shinsou observed, “But now at least you get to die with some dignity. More than can be said for some of your friends, I fear.”

Watching Roderick wield that hammer caused Shinsou emotional and nearly physical anguish but his face screwed up into an expression of annoyance when he realised that Rok’s hands were glowing. He could taste something foul in the air; the workings of arcane energies that swirled around them both as they stood only ten feet apart. When Rok swung the black, crude hammer down and utterly destroyed a pile of sturdy looking slabs of granite, Shinsou knew he was right.

“A strength enchantment? What’s the matter Rok; performance issues? Not the force you used to be?” the mocking continued as Shinsou lifted his palms.

Something stirred within Roderick’s heart at the insult. A terrible, biting rage.

“I’ll have your head! I am Roderick Rok; there isn’t a man stronger than me alive!” His scowling lips parted, and he practically spit each of the words out. His pride had been lost to him once; he refused to let this man take it from him again. He flashed forward and struck the floor with the bottom of his hammer as Shinsou thrust his right foot off to the side, digging a shallow furrow in the dirt. With a wave of his hand, a thick wall of colourless energy boomed into existence behind him. It began to shimmer and vibrate intensely and shone in the sun like a reflection of summer on a lake. Then, snapping electrical forks of black and purple began to snatch at the cool coastal air, growing in length and power before converging and interlacing around each other to form a fifteen foot wide circular portal of black and purple energy. Within seconds there were fifteen thin, dangerous spears of dark matter waiting to be unleashed.

Rok’s eyes were ablaze now; two fiery suns casting their deathly, hellish glow down upon him. Suddenly, the spears that had surrounded the Telgradian melted away and oozed back into existence again as fifteen hard scales of dark matter; the Phalanx form of his sword’s magic. The fifteen plate-sized scales interlocked to form an unbroken chain which wrapped itself around the Telgradian’s body.

“More tricks?!” Rok screamed as he launched himself at the Telgradian once more, landing on a black glass boulder to his right before flipping the hammer in his hand, snarling. If there was to be a fight, he'd have to be able to take as good as he gave.

There was no time to dodge and Shinsou knew it. A sickly crack! accompanied the hammerblow to his shoulderblade as bone shattered and scattered like shrapnel around his rotator cuff, tearing nerve endings from their flesh. The Telgradian screamed in agony but through the blearing pain somehow managed to use a free hand to lever the weapon away from him and wedge it between two rocks.

At that moment, as Rok tried to free the hammer from its vice, the dark matter chain of Enpera’s Phalanx form uncurled from Shinsou’s body like withering ivy and lurched.

“Fuck you!”

It snapped through the air, sparks of dazzling and disorienting electricity violently manifesting before disappearing almost as soon as he had commanded. The wave of hazy dark matter wrapped about the firmly planted, tree trunk sized legs of the Telgradian’s adversary, wreaking havoc on the surface of the volcanic rock about it. The chain pulled taut and lashed in all directions, tearing chunks of flesh from Roderick’s burly legs before separating them entirely from his body with a stomach churning rip!

A ragged breath later, Shinsou tried to stand up, sweat soaking his brow as he pulled his shoulder along with him. Every jolt felt like a million volts shocking his body and with every judder came a hiss of pain. As Osiris stood over his opponent, he watched the light begin to fade from Roderick’s eyes. Two mangled stumps where his legs had been bifurcated bled thick pools of crimson. There would be nothing anyone could do for the man now. In the full knowledge of what was coming, the powerful Roderick Rok could manage only a grunt as he arched his back and neck upwards, squinting and clenching his teeth as he tried one last time to look Osiris dead in the eye before collapsing pathetically into a puddle of his own mutilation.

Maybe dignity was the wrong term...

"Give it up, Fawcett. You could never run fast or far enough."

Breaker cornered the slender telepath among the sandstone cliffs along the shore south of Serenti. Smooth pebbles crunched beneath black metal boots as he stalked the criminal. The wind made the man's matted hair stand on end as it moaned in the mouth of a nearby cavern. With a final fearful glance over his shoulder, Fawcett dove for the cave.

"No you don't!" Breaker caught his wasted ankle and dragged him backwards. Fingernails scrabbled futilely on rock, and then the telepath rolled over and pushed a thought.

Release me and throw yourself in the sea!

Josh laughed, a long, mirthless chuckle. So close to the ocean, the wax and wane of each wave sounded like Am'aleh's sweet whisper. Fawcett's thought glanced off of his adamantine will like an arrow striking stone. As the telepath rose the demigod dealt him a furious blow, a single thunderous punch to the chest. Fawcett's heart skipped and stopped, and he crumpled on the shore, eyes glazing.

Come into my cavern.

The thought invaded Breaker's mind like a battering ram sundering a gate. His knees trembled with the power of the words, and he turned toward the cave before he could think. He took a faltering step, and then another, and then stopped.

My mind is my own. My body is my own. No one shall move me but me.

Perhaps, the omnipotent voice said, but curiosity will carry you to me just the same.

Breaker bellied down and crawled into the cavern, finding space to stand almost immediately as the tunnel twisted and grew. It expanded into a sandstone lair. From around the corner power radiated, along with the low, steady rhythm of a great beast breathing. The sandstone walls seemed to expand and contract with each inhale and exhale. The power of the being pulsated like a glowing beacon in the darkness.

Despite the lack of light, Breaker's sharp eyes showed him all as he rounded the corner. The tunnel widened monstrously to accommodate the bulk of a winged dragon. Black scales covered its massive, muscular body, and curved spikes protruded all the way down its spine and tail. Its fanged maw almost smiled down on him, and its front pair of clawed feet carved furrows in the sandstone floor.

"Draconus." Breaker said with no question in his tone. Finding a dragon holed up in an impossible cave near Serenti could be no coincidence. Awed by the Thayne's presence and the power he radiated, Josh stopped suddenly.

You have come far to find me here, Joshua Cronen. The voice was nearly enough to upset Breaker's balance. May I assume all of my minions are dead?

"I'm confident they are," the demigod said, still rooted to the spot. He thought of Shinsou, chasing after Rok. He thought of the silver-masked woman, chained in the watchtower. "All save one minion of your minions. We'll deal with her after I've finished with you." He took a single step forward, feeling like he was fighting a waterfall.

They were always a means to an end, the Thayne replied, each word a piston striking Josh's mind, you have proven yourself in defeating them, and they have brought you to me. All is as it should be.

"You expect me to believe this is all some grand design?" Josh tried to sneer, but awe crept into his tone. "Am'aleh has guided me on this path. She would not play me into your claws."

Am'aleh is of the lesser Thayne, the voice said disdainfully, she sees but what I will.

"Impossible," Breaker breathed, "I know why you broke the convicts out of Terrinore. Am'aleh's influence has grown these past few years. She is becoming the one and true deity of the sea... and you are just a forgotten remnant."

The dragon's roar shook the cavern. Putrid breath nearly knocked Josh off his feet, and small gouts of orange flame crackled from the fanged maw.

After you have joined me, Draconus said, you will watch in approval as I strike Am'aleh down.

"Then I guess I'd better kill you here." Josh growled. His hazel eyes narrowed and his neck and cheeks flushed. He bent his powerful legs, legs that had felt frozen moments earlier, and leaped mightily at the dragon. He rose upward with dank air whistling through his ears, rolling his shoulder back. At the top of his arc he arrived in front of the dragon's horse-sized head. His fist snapped forward, hammering Draconus' snout with a downward haymaker. The demigod landed in front of the deity as the dragon's head lolled to one side.

Is that your best blow? Draconus inquired. Disappointing.

The Thayne responded with a front snap kick from one of his tree-trunk legs. Josh attempted to leap away but the swift kick caught him in the sternum, shooting him upward like a ball from a cannon. He burst through the sandstone ceiling, body and mind ringing with the impact. He tumbled through fresh sea air, through the gathering darkness, and splashed into the salty shallows.

The earth quaked in his wake. A great tremor ran out in all directions, and then the sandstone cliffs split open and Draconus rose up, scaled wings flapping like canvas sails. The dragon flew out of the rift he'd created and landed with a ground-shaking thud in the shallows nearby.

Breaker struggled to rise, folding one knee beneath his body and pressing up with his arms and legs. His chest felt as if it had been struck by a trebuchet. He coughed up water that had found its way into his lungs and forced himself to his feet.

I had thought we might work well together, Draconus said as the demigod straightened his posture, but I find your reputation is greater than the man himself. Such a pity. Such a waste of time and effort. The dragon took a breath that threatened to steal all the oxygen from the air, and then opened its maw and unleashed fire.

Liquid flame spilled out in a blast directed at Breaker. Against the ache in his chest he lifted both hands and pulled water up from around his ankles, extinguishing the torrent. Draconus roared and the deluge of fire became one of lava, red hot and boiling. Breaker twisted his palms skyward and his water became molten ice, flowing out to meet the magma in a growing cloud of steam and smoke. Inch by inch, the flow of ice faltered, and the cloud of vapor crept closer to Breaker. Inch by inch, the demigod's strength waned, until he could feel the heat of the lava on his forearms.

With a roar to match the dragon's Breaker redoubled his efforts, but nothing he did could overcome the Thayne's endless torrent of roiling rage.

Am'aleh help me, he thought, feeling his goddess' touch in the water around his ankles, for I fear no one else can.

Roderick Rok was dead; his body torn asunder and left to rot on the Serenti coastline as it deserved to. With Joshua Cronen pursuing, if not already having killed, Fawcett it seemed to Shinsou that matters were close to being concluded in the proper manner.

Despite the tinge of optimism that these thoughts brought the Telgradian, each step towards that godly, telltale energy of Cronen’s felt heavier than iron. The muscles in his broken shoulder ached with a searing pain, even underneath the icy tourniquet that Shinsou had crafted, and the skin on his hands and cheeks glowed red with the toil of the grim labour of battle. He knew that the cocoon he had created would remain frozen for a while whilst the magic kneaded and melded nerves, bone and flesh back together, but it didn’t make the journey on foot any less painful. When he was finally finished clambering over rocks, sands and grasslands, the Telgradian fell back, panting, next to a wall of shale and slate of what was to be his final resting spot before the two minute stint to where he could feel Joshua’s energy emanating from.

This goddamn arm’s going to be no good to me in a fight, so I hope you’ve softened up or killed anything hostile before I get there, pal.

As the Telgradian kicked off from the wall, propelling himself back onto his feet in readiness for the last few minutes of his travels, Shinsou realised that this section of the coast near Serenti was as silent as a crypt. He found it un-nerving; eerie almost, like there was a negative aura smothering him. Perhaps it was because this area seemed so scarcely attended that Osiris felt uncomfortable, or perhaps it was that he was walking towards the unknown. The Brotherhood’s leader could suddenly feel a cold chill down his spine as Joshua’s ever present energy violently spiked and became erratic.

Something’s happening with Joshua. Is he fighting Fawcett? I can’t sense anything but him, though.

Shinsou suddenly jumped as something slammed ahead of him.

What the fu…

The first thing he witnessed was Joshua smash out of the sandstone cliff ahead of him, fumbling through the fresh sea air like a tossed rag doll before crashing into the Serenti sea, sending white foam scattering like grapeshot. A tremendous tremor accompanied a hollow rumbling before something abhorrent carved the sandstone cliffs open in front of his very eyes. Flanked by imposing splinters of jagged rocks that jutted out of the mountainside, something monstrous manifested from the rocky heart of the shoreline as the bitter odour of burning mixed with the sweet scents of the ocean. It ascended, unfurling huge leathery wings the size of galleon sails to its sides, before diving towards the ground and impacting the crystal blue shallow water with an ear-splitting crash nearby.

What in the screaming blue hell is that?! It makes Sunwing look like a pup!

The infamous Sunwing, the dragon that had blighted the Twilight Mountains, could have fit thrice into the stomach of this hulking beast. Whilst Shinsou stood in awe of this goliath’s form, he failed to notice until it was too late that it had inhaled deeply with the intention of unleashing hell. What followed was a river of napalm that spewed from the dragon’s maw, directed straight at Breaker.

Fuck, what am I doing?! Move it!

As Osiris began his laboured approach, the Telgradian was relieved to see that his inaction hadn’t brought harm to Cronen, who had pulled a torrent of the ocean up from beneath him to extinguish the threat. Shinsou’s mind blocked the aches and pains, feeling pebbles roll underfoot as he began to sprint towards the warring duo. Joshua’s aquatic shield turned to molten ice, breaking the flow of the magma and releasing a thick cloud of steam that seemed to obscure the creature’s vision. Without help, the demi-god, regardless of how powerful he may have been, would soon be in trouble.

That was his opening.

As Breaker’s ice faltered, Shinsou slammed his working arm directly below him and willed a thick, viscous tendril of ice to manifest in the ground. It snaked with speed towards the demi-god before penetrating out of the earth and coiling around the man’s waist, hoisting him back towards the Telgradian and out of immediate danger. As Cronen landed on his feet, fork lightning ripped through the murky cloud of steam, accompanied with a stomach-churning roar. For a moment afterwards there was a short silence, one that seemed suspended in the air for several moments before another loud crash bellowed through the air. A fearsome bellow raged out of the vapour ahead and the winged creature tore into the sky from below. A stream of crimson embers trailed behind it as it darted upwards, and with every powerful beat of the monsters wings a plume of bright sparks would erupt in a powerful magnesium flash. There, above them, it hovered like a vulture circling prey.

Shinsou’s black attire, smeared with mud and streaks of rusty dried blood from his confrontation with Rok, flashed momentarily from underneath his white greatcoat as it was rushed by the breeze created by the resultant shockwaves.

“What the hell is that?" Osiris asked, shooting Joshua an incredulous look.

"Draconus."

The fearsome beating of the dragon's wings battered the name from Breaker's mouth. He and Shinsou both recoiled, covering their eyes against the silt raised by the whirling winds. Above them, the deity wheeled and dove, like a hawk spotting a mouse, exposed on the cliffs.

"You had to go and pick a fight with Thayne, eh?" Shinsou yelled, drawing Stygian and channeling a measure of dark matter into the blade. "Here," he tossed the mythril sword to Josh, "see how the big f*cker likes a taste of the Widowmaker!"

Breaker reared back and threw the sword at the diving dragon. It spiraled skyward like reverse chain lightning, scoring a hit deep in the soft tissue of Draconus' eye. The deity roared and reared out of the dive, wings beating heavily once more to keep him aloft as he clawed at the seeping wound.

"It's now or never!" Shinsou called over the wind. "That blade will stop him healing, but not for long."

As if hearing the words, Draconus looked earthward and belched a long plume of acrid fire. Josh and Shinsou dove out of the way and crafted a barrier of ice between them and what became a roiling lava pit. Frost flew from all four of their palms, forming a slightly curved wall. A pillar of steam rose from the place where heat met cold, obscuring the deity's good eye.

"I could use a lift about now," Josh uttered, and began to change the shape of their icecraft.

"Coming right up," Shinsou replied, lending his own brand of magic.

The frozen wall re-shaped into a tall flight of stairs. Josh leaped forward and pounded up the steps, his enchanted boots giving him perfect traction on the slippery surface. Each footfall reminded him of the burns on his feet, and of the ache that Draconus' kick had chiseled deep into his bones. They reminded him of Am'aleh, who granted him the gift of magic. They reminded him of Shinsou, whose life was equally at risk.

Breaker reached the top of the staircase and jumped with all of his might. He soared upward, drawing close to Draconus, but not close enough. He extended a hand as he reached the apex of his jump and crafted a long whip of molten ice. It snapped up and wrapped around the dragon's massive, scaly neck. Hand over hand Josh climbed the whip, until he clung from one of the broad spikes that bristled along the beast's back.

You cannot defeat me. The simple confidence of the thought nearly unnerved the demigod.

"Others have said the same!" Josh roared in the dragon's ear.

You have never faced a Thayne.

"No," Josh said, "but I have loved one."

He vaulted onto Draconus' back and leaped skyward once more, flipping faster than a tossed coin. As he rose above the dragon two balls of ice formed in his palms, and he poured his own unique energy into each of them. As he descended, still corkscrewing and gaining momentum, he cast the iceballs at Draconus' wings. They exploded with more power than Alerian hand grenades, causing both wings to instinctively fold in defense.

And then Breaker struck the top of the dragon's head with both boots. As the blow landed the boots grew heavier, each by a hundred pounds. Josh summoned an unnatural gust of wind to aid him, adding more pressure to the base of the deity's skull.

Draconus fell like a cannon detached from an airship. He plummeted like a stone thrown down a well. He dropped straight and fast, headfirst toward the sandstone cliffs. His mighty wings flared, but too late, and too weakly to stop such momentum. His skull impacted the soft rock like an asteroid, creating a crater of obliteration and casting up a cloud of sand and dust. Breaker felt the deity's neck crack beneath his boots at the moment of impact, and as the dust and debris settled, the dragon lay still.

Josh slid down the scaly snout and retrieved Stygian from the ruined eye. Its twin had glossed over, massive and yellow, staring lifelessly off into the gathering darkness. Breaker climbed out of the crater and paced to where Shinsou stood a safe distance away. For once, the Telgradian appeared at a loss for words. Josh deftly flicked blood from the mythril blade and returned it to its owner.

"Well, fine then." Shinsou huffed, finding his voice as he sheathed the sword. "But next time, I get to kill the dragon."

Thayneslayer... the word came from the sea, distant and dreamy and distinctly feminine. Breaker would have recognized his lady's voice anywhere.

My champion... Am'aleh was calling him. The breaking waves beckoned like a lover's crooked finger. Josh took a step toward the ocean.

"Where are you going?" Shinsou demanded, "look," he pointed toward Serenti, "we've got some explaining to do!"

People were beginning to trickle out from between buildings and behind walls, curious onlookers who had seen the dragon take to the sky, who had seen it fall, and stay fallen.

"Someone will need to take credit for all of this," Josh said, "and I think you are just the man for the job."

Shinsou sputtered, looking back and forth between the demigod, and the deity whose death he had helped bring about.

Before the Telgradian could protest, Breaker took two steps and dove off the cliffs and into the sea.

Goddamn it, Cronen. Leaving me to feed the wolves like that...

The sun rose high over Serenti, heating up the sea in which Joshua had made his hasty exit and illuminating a town with many questions. The cobblestone streets shone brightly, soaking in the heat that would keep them warm long after the sun set in the west. The scatterblast buildings of marble and granite almost spoke to the ageless history of the Coronian architecture, but their citizens now wanted to speak to something - or someone - a lot more tangible. The people of this history steeped town had witnessed and hosted much in the last day or two; a range of the glorious, the pedestrian, and the vile. Now, Cronen had left Shinsou the centre of attention, a problem which the Telgradian would now have to shake off. The Brotherhood leader had made plans that would move him up in the world, pulling him up from his bootstraps into the realm of Althanas's elite. The way he wanted to do things, though, meant that being in the public glare was only ever going to be to his detriment.

Perhaps, though, there was a benefit to this newfound popularity. To be revered would be more than a clever façade. After today Shinsou would be infamous, wealthy, and very busy extending both the reach and the presence of his Brotherhood beyond the Whitevale compound. People would know his name, even fear it. Shinsou Vaan Osiris; Thayne-slayer? The truth was far from the inevitable hearsay, but that didn't matter.

As Storm Veritas once said: "after today we would be called many names, but average would never be one of them again."

He popped back and forth from foot to foot, a nervous tic in the midst of the large gathering of people all asking questions, before settling into his skin. A few drops of sweat ran down his fingers. In his hand, the beads ran down a piece of Draconus's hide, which Shinsou had remembered to sever after Cronen returned to Am'aleh's embrace. Holding it up before the gathering, Osiris's golden eyes veered over the crowds that stood taut and wild.

"Citizens of Serenti," Shinsou shouted loud enough for those at the back to hear, "For the last few days you have played host to a violent game of chess; a game that was neither of your choosing to participate in nor in your interests to host. A cult of Terrinore escapees, guided and aided by the Thayne, Draconus, used this fine town as a base to hide away from justice. They killed men here, good men, and believed they had licence to hold sway over you to avoid answering for their crimes."

Shinsou felt his heart beat like a bass drum in his chest but his confidence grew. The group had taken their time to come round and some of them still listened nervously, but it was clear from the murmering that there was a positive reception for his words. Catching eyes with one particular man, the Telgradian continued and prepared to feed them the white lie. In line with Cronen's intentions, Shinsou would willingly step into the limelight, but it wasn't without gratitude to his friend's enormous contribution.

"The Brotherhood of the Castigars came here to liberate you from the Lunatic of Serenti, from the Terrinore escapees and from Draconus himself. Here, in my hand," The Telgradian raised the bloodied hide of the fallen Thayne to the sky, "I hold the proof of that victory. Draconus is dead, the Terrinore inmates have been annihilated and your freedom is restored."

One sceptic, an elderly lady, heckled from the back. "What is it you want from us? You militia types are never satisfied unless there's a reward."

Shinsou smiled reassuringly.

"We ask for nothing in return, only that you spread the word that the Brotherhood serve the people of Corone under Am'aleh's grace and protection. Furthermore, the Brotherhood is to contribute to Serenti a sum of gold to cover the funerals of your dead. They should be honoured as heroes and buried with the respect they deserve. In the wake of such vile acts, examples need to be set today by those who know better. Go to your homes; mourn your dead and know that the Brotherhood and Am'aleh stand shoulder to shoulder with the people of Serenti.”

Shinsou marvelled at his public performance as the crowds reacted warmly to his announcement. The Brotherhood were the new alpha that had been established in Serenti, a gift from Cronen, while Draconus and his cult was now consigned to the ashes of time. A congratulatory hand from one guard fell upon the mage’s shoulder as Shinsou pivoted, standing tall and satisfied with his speech, before walking off. He didn't want to do a diservice to Joshua by naming him when he clearly wanted anonymity, but at least by footing the bill for the dead's funerals the Brotherhood had found another contribution they could make to honour his friend's deed.

Finally feeling the weight of tiredness and pain from his half-healed shoulder bear on him, Shinsou rubbed a sore eye with his knuckle and rubbed at his forehead furiously to stave off the approaching fatigue, at least for a few more moments. He had been up for god-knows how long and had given everything he could to their task, both physically and mentally. That was the difference between him and Cronen; between a mortal and a demi-god. The Telgradian had come to realise that in his current state he was a mere pion; so much fragile flesh in the face of the overwhelming power of the gods. That level couldn't be reached, not yet, but that was a worry for another time.

That takes care of the public Q&A. Now, there's one more issue to deal with...

With the end of the beginning in sight, Shinsou was determined to finish one last errand before heading for more comfortable lodgings and the promise of a solid night’s sleep.

I hope you didn't think I'd forgotten about you, Hierophant.

As the townspeople dispersed into cracks in the city, Shinsou set off down an alleyway with that woman firmly in his mind. The Hierophant had protection from arcane detection and had outwitted them the first time before finding herself on the wrong end of the Shackles of Titan.

What hides behind that mask?

Shinsou snaked through a network of side streets and alleyways that led out of Serenti and back towards the sea, just to the east of Draconus's dissoving corpse. You were never far from Am'aleh's domain in Corone. The scent of it was always there, a powerful, salty whiff that incensed the nostrils and cleared the senses. On the coast leading up the bell tower, where the wind was high and blowing from the south, the waves shattered on the rock wall of the cliff face and spray rattled over the debris of the weathered heights. As the Telgradian approached the open maw where a door used to be, one that now rested in splinters in the centre of the ground floor room thanks to Joshua, he could see a masked, sleeping figure propped up against the pillar she had been chained to a couple of hours ago.

The shade that sheltered the Hierophant started to give way to Stygian's eternal light, but the glow did little to alleviate the haunting atmosphere that now washed over the captive.

"Get up." The command was short and to the point.

Wearily, the Hierophant struggled to her knees, the shackles intended to subdue Cronen still binding her. Shinsou grabbed the mask and tore it off with one straight pull. He was surprised to see a normal face gazing blearily back at him; one that could easily have belonged to anyone he had ever come across. She had green eyes, milky white skin and high cheekbones.

"Draconus and the Terrinore in-mates are dead." Shinsou muttered, somewhat triumphantly.

"I know. I felt their lives drain from their bodies." The Hierophant replied nonchalantly. She didn't make eye contact with the Telgradian, who paced the room. "...and now you're here to extinguish mine."

The outrage that the Telgradian had displayed before for her was a type of emotion that anyone rarely saw from Shinsou. It was clear that she saw death coming to collect on her missed opportunity because surviving the fallout from her failure felt like anything but a guarantee. Yet, as she prepared for the taste of cold steel or magical fury, none was forthcoming.

"What's your name, Hierophant? Your real name, that is?"

The question threw her. Her name? Why would her executioner need to know such a paltry, trivial thing at this juncture? Her expression gave away her surprise to the pacing Brotherhood leader, who held his chin in his hand. Eventually, softly, she gave him a cautious reply.

"Jehuty."

"Well, Jehuty," Shinsou started, sheathing Stygian into its ivory sheath, "I am going to let you in on something. I can count on one hand the amount of times someone got the drop on me. But Joshua Cronen? We are talking about a demi-god amongst mortals. I watched him crack Draconus's skull like an eggshell, and yet somehow, some way, you got the better of not just me, but him. I'm going to ask you one time; why couldn't we sense you?"

Jehuty shrugged. "I don't know."

"In that case," Shinsou said, slumping next to her, "You have two options. Option one is that you accept your failure and die with some shred of honour. Option two?"

Jehuty raised an eyebrow, lifting her chin for the first time to meet Shinsou's eyes. They were fierce, but not angry. No. They held a golden intrigue, a curiosity that probed her being.

"Come and work for me."

Tired, covered in mud, blood, soot and still in pain from his ravaged shoulder, Shinsou was in no mood for pleasantries or a half-assed interrogation. From the sunken shoulders of his captive, he expected her to be similarly motivated to seek shower, suds, and sleep in the comfort of a Whitevale barracks.

Out of Character:

Spoils request: Draconus's Hide A piece of ancient dragonscale the size of Shinsou's chest that can be used as raw material for a torso-sized piece of equipment

Thread: The Death of a Deity
Participants: Shinsou & Breaker
Type: Condensed

Howdy, gentlemen. Thank you for allowing me the privilege of working with this thread. It was a lot of fun to read and judge. I hope that you find my suggestions helpful. I found listening to the Curse of the Black Pearl soundtrack pretty fitting while I read this.

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Plot: 20/30

I commend you both on writing a very fun story! The prison break was a fantastic way to open, and it had me hooked from the get-go. I also thought that your time-lapse from the first to second post was nicely done as well. Often, writers feel the need to expand on "flashback" events until their use is no longer effective. This scene had just the right amount of attention, then veered back to the here and now. While this also improved your "Pacing score" (if we pretend this was a full judgment, which I kind of made it anyway), it positively affected the overall story as well. The rest of the story was split into what I consider two parts - with Olin, and without Olin. After his death, the story's focus shifted. I much preferred the first part, as the pacing felt more believable. Draconus felt a bit "tacked on" to the end, which don't think did a Thayne of such magnitude justice. As I'll explain in the next section, Olin was also by far my favorite part of this piece.

Pacing was very hit or miss with you both. There were some scenes that I thought were just perfect. The opening, as I mentioned earlier, for example. The fight scene in the bar (post 6) was also just the right length. One of my biggest pet peeves, as Shin can attest, is drawn-out combat. I was readying myself for it here, but I was pleasantly surprised. Then there were parts that went on far too long. I thought post 7 was far too description heavy, especially with the Hierophant's entrance. Describing the exact path she took across the tops of the buildings detracted from the rest of the story, and bogged me down. While description is important, I would encourage you to make sure it all serves a purpose. As my English teacher once told me, "every single word you write should be deliberate." Easier said than done, of course, but it is worth keeping in mind! The element of pacing that lacked the most was the battle with Draconous. He was located in a couple of posts, and killed in only a handful of paragraphs. While I understand that the whole thread was meant to be a build-up, I had already seen the rise and fall of action with Olin's death. To add another fight of such importance in the last couple thousand words seemed out of place. For me, it cheapened the whole experience. I almost wish you had made a second thread for Draconus!

Setting, I felt, also had its strengths and weaknesses. You both are exceptional at it, as I could tell in some places. For example, you both have a habit of starting your posts very setting-heavy, but you then let it trickle away as you write on. Setting the scene is important, but to totally immerse your reader, you have to keep that flame burning. Keep referencing it, and always think about how it affects everything your characters do. The cave in post 14 was a missed opportunity - I would have loved to have been able to better picture Draconus' lair. Like pacing, neither of you are bad at setting, by any means. I just look for more consistency!

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Character: 20/30

Let me start by saying OLIN WAS AMAZING. So rarely am I ever so drawn to a character, especially one that isn't necessarily a main character, ESPECIALLY one that is a villain. But you both just put so much thought into how you wrote him. How he spoke in sing-song rhymes, how he reacted to bad news, and how he was constantly thinking of such devilish deeds (servants cleaning up the dirt with their tongues?!). It was all exceptional. I found myself more than a little disappointed when he was killed, which is probably worrisome, considering he was a terrible man. But he brought so much life to your story. He was so unique.

Though you both wrote Breaker and Shin very well, I found that they were less unique. Shin, this advice will probably sound quite familiar. Either Breaker and Shin are both similar characters, or you are both similar writers, but I had a difficult time telling the two of them apart. That happens when there is heavy bunnying happens - it can be more difficult to tell the characters apart. I did notice that Shin was more apt to internal monologue and swearing, but that was about it. I would encourage each of you to consider quirks for your characters, to help them stand out a bit more. Consider their pasts, their preferences, and how those might affect their behavior or mannerisms. Again, this is higher-level stuff. You're both skilled, this is just meant to push you a bit more. Overall, what your characters did and said made sense, but how can you take good writing and make it exceptional?

In terms of persona, I did note a few times that I thought really stood out. Shin, your reflection of how your character has changed in post 3 (the internal monologue) helped me get a feel for what kind of man he is, and why. I also liked that Olin drew in breath and looked at his servants just to watch them flinch. And the way that he used his right hand man as a meat shield. I just liked Olin.

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Prose: 19/30

Mechanics were both a strength and a weakness, depending on how you looked at them. In terms of blatant spelling errors, you had only one that I found during my two readings. That's evidence of proof-reading, and that always earns a writer kudos in my book. You'd be surprised how many people never re-read what they've written before submitting it. There were some other mechanics issues, however, that brought your score down. First, there were many missing commas. I'm normally lenient on commas, because I consider myself overly comma-happy. But your comma use was inconsistent. Sometimes you used them, but in nearly identical sentences, you didn't. There were a few things that were mistyped, such as a comma coming after a quotation mark in dialogue. And finally, there were a number of run-on sentences that bogged me down. For example, in post 3,

Quote:

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The Brotherhood's contacts had their snouts to the ground to look for any trace of Sam's partners but violent attacks on the informants had trebled and soon enough information had dried up like a Fallien watering hole in the summer.

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This isn't a bad line, at all. But it is too wordy. I'd encourage you to see how it could be broken up with more punctuation. If you would like more examples of sentences like this, please let me know.

These overly-complex sentences did contribute to some clarity issues, but only to the extent that I had to re-read, or read aloud. Other confusion stemmed from not knowing enough about these characters. I always read a thread as if it is the only thing by that author I've seen. As such, I had no idea who Am'aleh was until half-way through the thread, when I vaguely remembered another thread I'd read from Breaker. If I were to have stuck to my rule, I wonder if I would have ever really known who she was, or what her relationship with Breaker was. Maybe in his last post? A quick reminder of who she was, from either one of you, would have been helpful. I know I could just look at a character sheet, and some judges probably might, but I like to have it all in the story where possible.

The largest source of confusion was the names used. Olin, for example, went by Olin, Rutland, Olin Rutland, the Lunatic, all interchangeably. Then there was Darrin, Hornsby, Darrin Hornsby, the enforcer. Then there were a couple of instances when you described your characters by their appearance. Sometimes you favored first names, other times, last names.When these are characters I know well, and there are only a couple in the story, it isn't such a big deal. But you both created a huge, diverse cast of characters: Olin, Darrin, Roderick, the Hierophant, Draconus, Am'aleh, Shin, Joshua. If they each have a whole slew of names, it can be very difficult to keep them straight. I made a cheat sheet.

Technique was your strongest area here. Breaker had some really fantastic instances of alliteration, which is one of my favorites. There were many similes and metaphors, and some neat imagery. I even liked the expressions that were used. Still, I have to comment on the use of "another thing coming." It was my understanding that the phrase was intended to be "another think coming." Granted, this certainly did not affect your score in the slightest, because, you know, Judas Priest.

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Wildcard: 8/10

Not only did your thread contain one of my new favorite characters, it also inspired me to pull up my own story and start writing. Few authors have done the same for me. Thank you.

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Final Score: 67/100

Breaker receives:

• 5,050 EXP!
• 275 GP!

Shinsou receives:

• 3,800 EXP!
• 275 GP!

Congratulations!