Round 1: The Girl and the Guardian v Unreasonable Gentlemen

Round 1 pits The Girl and the Guardian (Taische and Kryos) versus Unreasonable Gentlemen (Rayse Valentino and Storm Veritas), and will begin on Tuesday, March 15th at midnight EST.

Taische Asthore O’Sheean was in big trouble. Technically, she was still a day or two from being in trouble, but she was well aware of actions and their consequences. Once again, her mother had entrusted her to the care of friends, and once again, she’d run off. She felt that she was justified, and she was heading right for Karuka, but… Disobedience was disobedience, and trouble was trouble.

At least the weather was warm and sunny on the road out of Radasanth, and she’d had a fairly uneventful day of walking. She’d even made a friend! Sort of. Really, they were just going the same direction at the same time, and she’d given him a cookie from her lunch box. What conversation they’d had was more her nattering away in the manner of children everywhere, but he’d been tolerant for the last few hours.

Azure afternoon had surrendered to dusky evening when the plains and farms gave up their grasses and dust to the cobbles and stone buildings of a town. The scents of roasting meats and vegetables permeated the air, the mutter of people doing their last minute dinner shopping replaced birdsong, and housewives stepped out of their abodes to summon their children home.

Taische didn’t recognize the place, though she knew Underwood was still at least two days of travel. She glanced up to the adult she’d found herself walking with for guidance, but didn’t wait for it before looking back at the streets ahead of her.

There was nothing wrong with the town itself, but from the tips of her toes to the tip of her nose, she didn’t want to stay the night in Lounton if she could help it. Something about it felt like trouble, and though she knew she probably wouldn’t see whatever it was that had her uneasy, she couldn’t help but peer into gold-lit streets and whatever dark windows presented themselves to her vision.

“Do you like camping?” Taische pushed a thick lock of black hair out of her face and looked up at her erstwhile companion. “I think camping would be a lot of fun tonight. Besides, camping bugs are friendlier than city bugs.”

Her nose wrinkled at the thought of some of the bugs she’d seen crawling around the cities. Biting bugs that hid in mattresses and hay, plenty of fleas, roaches as big as her head, and more. “And we could have a camp fire and cook on it, and everyone knows that fire cooking is much much more tasty than any other type of cooking. And we’d be quicker on our way.”

The child’s anxiety only rose while she spoke. She knew her mother wasn’t in Lounton, or she’d already be looking up into Karuka’s angry face and stammering out her explanation, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was about to catch her.

Is Uncle Tav in town? I’d hear it from him if he saw me. Once more, she squinted into the windows of a tavern and stood uselessly on her tiptoes to search for any unwelcome familiar face in the loosely packed throngs of strangers.

Another uneventful day had pulled itself to a close, and Storm Veritas had generated a tall pile of absolutely nothing to show for his time upon the top-side of the soil. Enjoying the quiet, he looked out at the horizon for what may lie before him. He had accomplished plenty in his collective travels, but the next challenge had not appeared before him yet. Times like this – spells between any significant activities – were often filled with long, poison-fueled days and sharing stories amongst the local strangers he found wherever his feet took him. Lounton was his latest stop, where he had found only one man interesting enough to bother burning the ear of. The balance of them were helpless.

The music was loud this evening, and the sounds of fiddler’s music and drunken chatter had started pounding, whistling, and clapping earlier than usual. Dusk was usually quiet in most towns; the hours when men returned home to families, perhaps stopping by for a quick pop after work. Lounton’s most populous bar was bouncing a little more heartily when Storm witnessed his de-facto niece and an unknown man stroll into town. Under the glimmer of a low sun and the dim hue of oil-driven streetlamps, it was near impossible for anyone to identify her from within the bar.

You’ve got to be f*cking kidding me…

Through whatever odd hand the cards of fate had dealt him, he wasn’t IN the bar tonight. Sitting in a comfortably, knees-to-chest upon the thick slate shingles of the building’s roof, Storm finished his short drink of mead and instantly refilled the tall glass from the large jug he had purchased in the afternoon. Silently, he listened to the soft gurgling roll of the honey-sweet nectar into his tumbler, and let it simmer again over his tongue as he sipped slowly, considering how in the hell this “coincidence” could possibly have come to pass. As the tandem drew closer, his mind raced with the burn of a deep, fresh wound.

No limp, I see? No bandages either. She seems to have healed up from such horrible atrocities committed upon her in Radasanth. Quite the actor that little shit has become. She should be in freaking theatres with those dramatic skills.

He pivoted slightly, whispering in a slightly-slurred hush.

“I know this girl. Her mom and me go back a ways – quite the goddamned handfuls, the two of them. Don’t know who the other one is – have you seen him around?”

Storm passed the handle of mead over to his friend, a fairly new acquaintance who felt instantly like a kindred spirit. This man had the scent of an adventurer all over him; his tattoos, terribly hidden weapon, and thousand-yard stare giving away the story of a man who didn’t spend his days banging iron or delivering letters. His keen sense for style was also of a like mind to the dapper magician, who had quickly grown tired of the parade of sad, hopeless losers that typically strolled through the pubs of Corone.

The wizard rested the glass of warm honey-liquor between his feet as he picked up his pipe. The cherrywood handle was still warm, and a simple rub of his fingertips re-sparked a soft orange glow within the dark, tobacco filled bowl. It was an old trick, but he curiously wondered how impressive his abilities must be to Rayse Valentino, who spoke little of any special skills but carried a swagger that betrayed any genuine humility.

The glass that the shorter man held was filled quickly, and an answer had yet to be delivered to the original question.

The tranquil afternoon sky bubbled in Rayse's hazy vision, who couldn't quite shake the white spots hanging at the edges of his field of view. After a particularly disastrous, albeit successful, job that involved a troublesome ice mage, the firebringer couldn't shake whatever horrid lingering after-effects were currently plaguing his person. The only viable solution was to wait it out, coupled with copious consumption of canned heat. Bringing Storm along for the last job proved to be a good idea, and besides pay, he owed the man some drinks. Of course, he knew a bit more about Storm than he let on, having orchestrated a coincidental encounter that was anything but. He first noticed him when he was babysitting Taische, which given the magician's reputation prompted a persistent proclivity of what the hell. It was easy to follow him after that for the job offer. He turned out to be all right, but it still gave Rayse some pause.

So when his maybe daughter shows up with yet another strange man, Rayse started to question Karuka's parenting skills. Add that to the fact that Taische knows both of them, Rayse would need to either out himself or make up some compelling half-truths on the spot.

"No idea." He replied. He took another drag off his cigarette. "That's Karuka's kid, isn't it?"

Storm was less shocked by the familiarity than Rayse expected. Maybe it was all the drink, or maybe Storm expected anyone of significant notoriety to know her at this point. The fact that he admitted his knowledge on the subject meant that he already made up his mind on the course of action. However, before he could get up, Storm was already up and shaking his fist. Rayse could not honestly discern why, but following Storm's lead made this easier for him. He got up as well, gulping down the last of his drink.

"I don't like the look of him either. Let's turn whatever bad idea he has into a... really bad idea." Rayse sniffed. That was not the smoothest of lines.

Well, that’s not something you see everyday.

As Kryos and his travelling companion made their way through the warm streets of the town, he spotted two men atop one of the local taverns. The sun lit them up against the dark, wooden shingles of the establishment, and their attire made them stand out like nobility at a commoner’s convocation. One wore a rich, red shirt coupled with a sleek, black vest that complimented the long strands of black hair that obscured his dark eyes. The other man had fine, custom-made clothing, obvious by the quality of garb and the comfortable fit. Kryos rather expected to see the two in the business districts of Radasanth, or at one of the gentleman establishments, than a middle-of-nowhere town like this. Then he noticed the jug of disappearing golden comfort the two passed between them, shook his head and turned his attention to the young girl at his side.

She appeared preoccupied and kept peering into the windows of the Reasonable Redhead. To him, she seemed like how most young girls would be: spirited and carefree. While he didn’t usually care for company, something about this child pulled on his mind like a thread unraveling the stitching of a shirt. While only a feeling, he had decided to see where it would lead. After all, that was why he had left Raiaera following the events at Trenyce—to experience the new in hopes of regaining the forgotten.

Beyond the windows of the tavern lay a symphony of activity. Jovial music mixed with a chorus of laughter set the rhythm of the tavern’s heartbeat. The sweet smell of honeymead laced with the subtle aroma of delicately spiced, slow roasted meat teased his senses. While he personally preferred the idea of staying in the nearby woods to the hustling inn, the taste of a well-prepared meal persuaded him. Especially considering he’d been on the road or sea for the past month or so.

“Let’s eat in town before making camp,” he told her. “Saves the trouble of preparing the food ourselves and makes better use of time.”

His eyes swept the buildings that lined the wide street. The tavern would do, but Kryos preferred a place a little more tame, especially considering the present company. His eyes narrowed in mild annoyance when he found none in the immediate area. While the town was large enough due to its position along one of the main trade routes on the island nation, it certainly wasn’t a major city.

Resigning himself to the chances of a crowded bar in the evening, he nodded his head toward the open doorway.

“Come on. Let’s go.”

He strode forward, shifting his pack to allow quicker access to the sword placed over lower back. He would appreciate an uneventful evening if he had anything to say on the matter and would convince any who thought otherwise.

Movement drew his gaze upwards, above the warmly lit portal. Kryos stopped mid stride and shot his hand out in front of Taische, who looked up at him, confused. Kryos said nothing as he saw the result of reason robbed by drink. He could hardly believe his luck.

And I’m not even in the damn tavern yet.

Out of Character:

Dunno if you need this stated explicitly, but bunnies between the Girl and the Guardian are approved.

I had no idea that Uncle Mal and Uncle Storm were friends. But maybe it makes sense.

Taische’s eyes followed Kryos’s crimson gaze. For a second, she just stood and watched the two dark-haired men making their way down from the roof. Uncle Mal, the Salvaran pyromancer, was no longer on speaking terms with the little girl’s mother. Uncle Storm, the taller, skinnier, paler lightning mage, had left their little family some time before and hadn’t come back. Their day out in Radasanth had been fairly lousy overall, but she thought he would come back. He always had.

Oh. Oh, no.

If either or both of them caught her, there would be difficult questions, questions that demanded an answer. There would be action; she’d spent time under each of their watches. She would really rather run straight to her mom than let either of them within arm’s reach of her, and unfortunately, that seemed to be the exact opposite of their intentions. Worse, their focus wasn’t on her.

Taische gripped Kryos’s sleeve, looking up with wide blue eyes and whispering earnestly.

“I know both of those men. They are bad men, and if they get us, we’re in trouble. Big, big, big trouble. We have to run. Uh… this way.”

With that, the little girl pulled her mysterious companion into the tavern. Immediately, the stench of hard liquor, burning tobacco, and sweaty bodies overwhelmed Taische’s nose. Scores of people sat around wooden tables, gambling, drinking, eating and swearing. They weren’t the little girl’s biggest concern, though; almost a dozen women in low-cut bodices patrolled the Reasonable Redhead’s floor with their trays of food and drinks, with many more patrons wandering around them.

It was through these that Taische and Kryos had to duck and weave past. Occasionally, someone would spit a bad word or a startled remark when the two hurried by, but neither one of them had the time to stop and address it. Instead, they were rushing to the back door, which led to the cramped stables where patrons boarded their horses for as little as an hour or as long as a few days. If they could just get through the stables, Taische thought, they could get away from her uncles.

The little clairvoyant almost felt guilty about calling them bad men; they had more or less taken care of her in their own ways. She could even admit that she wasn’t easy to take care of; she was willful and independent and all around not a good child for an inexperienced bachelor to babysit. She was also overstating the danger to Kryos. If she'd been willing to face her uncles head on, she could resolve this.

But they were bad men, and she would be in big trouble if they caught her. She hadn’t lied completely.

[OOC: agreed with bunnies]

After the exceptionally eloquent articulation of his newfound friend, Storm smiled a sinister grin around the edges of his pipe, his eyebrows arching in the anticipation of action. That Rayse knew Karuka in the first place came as a surprise, but then the experienced wizard estimated that a powerful healer with dark skin, green eyes and long red hair could quickly reach celebrity status anywhere.

And that ass… that doesn’t hurt her “Q-rating” much either.

Daydream notwithstanding, he watched closely as the tandem approached, some whispering was shared that he could not hear. Storm wasn’t entirely sure what Taische would stop and say to the two, particularly given the less than amicable parting they had recently enjoyed. He was sure the man had seen him; their rooftop silhouettes would be striking and he noticed the head raise to survey the area. When the little tot whispered to him and they quickly ducked into the bar, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

“She’s captive. The way she tugged on his shirt… Something’s wrong. Let’s go.”

Despite enjoying a healthy share of the large bottle of mead, Storm vaulted gracefully from the rooftop, steadying his turn by pivoting a hand on the rain-worn wooden gutter. His landing was almost smooth; he felt a little pang of pain shoot up his left foot as it landed on the a corner of cobblestone and mortar. He hoped it was nothing, but feared an ankle sprain. Rising with a mild wince but no words, he heard Valentino land more adeptly behind him. The shorter man appeared to handle his liquor well.

Stepping forward, he ignored the pain in his foot as he pressed open the just-shut door. He was met with a wave of music, white noise and gray smoke, which instantly meshed in a familiar, days-gone experience. The bar was loud and boisterous, a sea of shoulder-to-shoulder stupid humanity that the others must have just parted. He didn’t want to make a scene, as Taische and the stranger had clearly not done. He would find them; there wasn’t far to run. Over his shoulder, he spoke to Rayse quickly, knowing the thought was likely shared.

“They’re in here. They have to be.”

Storm briskly walked to the bar, stifling his wince and returning the bottle in exchange for his deposit, and left a few crowns to a smiling, buxom barmaid. The girl was far prettier than the middle-aged, dour six-toothed jackass that had taken his cash up front, and the magician enjoyed letting his eyes relax a moment. Perhaps the moment was too long.

Focus, you dumb shit! Find Taische!

As if snapping from a trance, he spun wildly to scan the room. He didn’t know how he would find Taische in this busy scene; the room darkly lit to protect the ugly and the noise too pervasive to ask questions. This was a breeding ground for the intoxicated and incompetent. It was then that he felt his good fortune return. Several heads were suddenly looking downward, bald spots and ponytails popped up in a row like domino faces show as the tiles fall. They were watching something small move through; he wagered it was more like someone.

That someone was headed for the door, and trailed by the new stranger. They had circled behind them, waited, and were making a dash.

“Shit! The door! Go!”

Weeks ago, Rayse was meeting with a spy in the backroom of one of his many mercenary guilds in Corone. It was a fairly simple room that served as a makeshift office, with a basic wooden table barely supported by four flimsy legs. A lantern hung from the ceiling, forcing the two men to share what little light it gave off. Rayse addressed the man, who looked no different from a typical farm-working peasant, covered in a dirty brown tunic and hair so messy you could almost see the fleas.

Rayse leaned over the table, casting a long shadow. "Your message said Storm Veritas. I want to confirm his immediate location."

"Permission to speak freely?" asked the spy.

"You don't need to ask that."

"Apparently I do, because last time I did you flew off the handle!"

Rayse lowered a brow in frustration, "No I didn't. Because the world didn't end. Spit it out."

"It's been hell following this girl around, and that's even with the tracking paper. Usually I'm a day or two late and completely miss all the action. It's a bit easier when she's with her mother, but still... by pulling me off her and onto Storm, I've completely lost track of her. It will take me weeks to get back on her trail. What's so special about this Storm guy?"

"He's an old name around these parts. In short, a criminal. I don't know what he's playing at with Taische and I want to find out." The spy wondered out loud what the purpose of tracking the girl was in the first place. "There's a lingering question on my mind and I need to find the answer for myself. Yet, part of me wants to say, what difference would blood make? I've never even heard of her until recently. I want to just drop the matter and move on with my life, but her power interests me. She's immune to my abilities, which is enough cause for concern as it is, but add to that the fact that she knows too much. Does that answer your question?"

"Your answer sucks. You can't decide whether or not you give a shit about her? Give me a break."

Rayse slammed his fist into the table, causing a noticeable crack to appear on the surface. "Why do I let you talk back to me?" The spy shrugged. They had known each other for over a decade, and the ill-dressed man was the best spy in the contractor's employ. "In any case, I need to find out what kind of man Mr. Veritas is, and I think I've found a good way to do it."

- - - -

The cigarette was spent. Usually this would be the time to pull out another one, but he didn't think he would have enough time to smoke it. He spit it out and looked around, the pungent stench of the place reminding him why he took his drinks outside in the first place. Unlike last time, Rayse couldn't tell any of the heat sources apart. In fact, he couldn't feel them at all. Goddess-damned ice mages! Storm's exclamation was barely audible in the rabble, but Rayse heard it nonetheless.

He lifted his foot and smashed it into the ground, nearly tearing apart the floorboards. Behind him, a pillar of fire burst from the floor, covering up the exit with a torrent of flames. In one fell swoop, the festivities in the tavern had ended. They were all now staring at Rayse, whose figure stood ominously before the flaming doorway. Some were scared, some were angry, but most were confused. On the bright side, it was now quiet enough to project his voice.

"I know you're in here, Tash! If you come out now I promise I won't hurt your little friend."

Kryos only caught the eruption of a growing geyser of fire across the room before the heavy wooden door swung shut behind him, muffling the exclamations of surprise. Before him lay a narrow corridor flanked by simple, small stalls containing the patrons’ horses, interspersed with the occasional stable hand tossing hay or shoveling manure. The humid, arenose odor filled his lungs as he chased after Taische, paying no heed to the startled animals or now captivated workers. One particularly big beast of a horse let out a loud call after the retreating pair, rearing up and slamming his hooves against the hay-strewn floor. Taische glanced back, but couldn’t stop to address the black stallion.

They crossed the distance in a matter of moments and reached the iron gate that spanned the wide gap of the stable’s entrance. Kryos vaulted over the barrier in one graceful leap, turning midair to see the small girl clamber nimbly through the crossbeams. She knew how to use her size to her advantage, it seemed.

The small backstreet wrapped around the tavern towards the main thoroughfare, with narrow, darkened alleys branching off between neighboring shops. Kryos pulled Taische into a shadowed lane that led away from the pub and the rising column of smoke. Rancid redolence replaced feral musk as they skirted through the discarded waste that littered the stone path.

Fresh, evening air welcomed them as they broke onto a wide, well-traveled street, framed by a line of gently swaying trees that ran along a natural waterway at the far side. Beyond, golden wheatfields gleamed with the light of the evening sun. Unable to soak in the beauty of the land, he took off after Taische, who was already following the lane deeper into town. He glanced into the alleyway before it shifted from his view for any sign of pursuit. From the girl’s reaction, he hoped that they could lose the two men that had made it their business to bring trouble down on him. He somehow knew it wouldn’t be that easy.

As he ran, his gaze lighted upon the spinning leaves that drifted to the ground along invisible currents of wind. The branches overhead cast dark shadows on the path, stretched to the limit by the low sun. A ballet of scarlet and amber danced before him, and through it, he watched the form of a small girl run.

Before his eyes, the long, dark hair that flowed in the wake of her flight turned blonde. The cobblestones turned to crimson grass. His breath caught in his throat as he heard the bark of a dog. He instinctively drew his short sword and spirals of ebon flames blossomed along its length. He could almost feel the creature’s breath on the back of his neck as it attacked. He turned, fear and hatred burning in his eyes, steel whistling straight toward . . .

Nothing.

The river flowed along the tree lined path, calm in the evening light, and cobblestones pressed against the soles of his boots. Behind him, he could hear Taische calling out. His mind raced as the long-buried memory raged against his consciousness.

The hell . . .

(OOC: Order change discussed and approved by all parties for continuity improvement)

Hell had officially broken lose, as was logical when traveling with its spokesman. Rayse had sent a torrent of flames up behind him, and the wave of fear, wonder, and anger that dared ruin the early evening of the patrons of the Reasonable Redhead which came flooding back to them was palpable. They were invaders, and likely not the first magic users these decidedly pitiful, hardscrabble townies had witnessed. Magic wasn’t formally outlawed, but it carried with it a taboo sense of danger and entitlement that the plebian class despised. Storm recognized the look as he stared at Rayse, a sideways glare that spoke without words in no uncertain terms.

We don’t have time for this shit. You got us into a mess here, find a way to get us out.

The connection between the two was real, be it something cosmic or as simple as like-minded scoundrels. Rayse made a scene, gathering the attention of the pubgoers as he rubbed his hands together, like a magician preparing to produce doves. With a single clap, the flames in the room disappeared, marked only by scorched hardwoods and residual tendrils of thick gray smoke which wafted harmlessly into the rafters.

“My apologies for the interruption, ladies and gentlemen. The next round is on the tab of Storm Veritas!”

On cue, the wealthy wizard produced a handful of gold coins, which shined with impossible brilliance in the low light of the barroom. He turned to splash them on the counter, listening to the approving wail of the idiot masses as the two bolted for the door. He burst out and was once again met with fresh air, the sky a half-shade darker and only the confused gazes of a few pedestrians that had obviously witnessed something off. They peered back and forth from the door to an adjacent building, wherein Attila had been housed. Taische and the stranger had gone through the stables. There was no time for banter, but he couldn’t stifle the smile that Rayse’s display had generated.

“Cute trick, try to keep up.”

With a white-blue glow in his eyes, Storm Veritas began a dash that would leave the onlookers in disbelief. His slightly wounded ankle obeyed dutifully as he commanded his body to spring into action, a short pin-ache rifling up his leg as he began his dash the only reminder it would offer. His elegance, with both the smoothness of gait and impossible length of stride was more animal than human. The tracks through the stables were easy for any to follow, with the haphazard kicked-hay leaving pointed arrows down the path of escape. The jostled gate was also a clear mark; the lithe mage soared over the gate like a horse clears a single patch of low brush. Without breaking stride, he followed the chain of quizzical glances down a short alley and into the open street. As he strode and caught a possible glance of the two picking a secondary alley ahead, a large figure popped out in silhouette form some hundred feet ahead, barking wildly at the pursuers.

“Slow, down f*ckhead! Where’s the fire?! Take it easy!”

Without a word, the dagger was out, and the seasoned assassin in him took hold of his decision making. He couldn’t make out the expression on the face of the man whom he closed upon in the span of a second or two, and it didn’t matter. Taische was in danger, and there was no time for negotiation. He timed his spin perfectly, the blade dancing lightly across the left arm and belly of the confused interloper. The light resistance told Storm he had caught flesh, but it was merely a distraction. He continued the athletic pirouette behind the visage, and drove the dagger hilt-deep into the soft, fleshy space behind the tall man’s collarbone. The blade dove deep and true, unmistakably finding home somewhere in the heart of the fool. From his standing posture, Storm could see clearly that somehow Rayse had almost effortlessly kept pace, but didn’t pause to consider this incredible notion.

Just as quickly as it entered, he extracted the large knife, and continued forward towards the street he believed the tandem had run to. There was no need to watch the man fall and die; he would hear the heave of disbelief, gurgle-gasp of a dying breath, and lifeless tumble of humanity for many nights to follow in dark dreams.

I’m sorry, stranger. Wrong place, wrong time. It’ll be me soon enough, I’m sure.

More abject, open-mouthed glares met the travelers as they resumed pursuit. It was six or seven more seconds of sprinting before he saw the others ahead, running down a very long, slightly wider street lined with sinewy, twisted deciduous trees, well into the process of shedding their coats for the coming winter. Their figures flashed in the zebra-striped shadows, and they were still moving with good pace. Storm felt his heart pounding through his chest, his lungs screaming for more air. He slowed to a jog for a step or two, stealing a hard pull of the colder air before shouting.

“Taische! Slow down! It’s Uncle Storm! I can help you!”

They didn’t stop; he wasn’t sure if they had not heard him, or if they had ignored his pleas. If she was being coerced, then pulling away would not appear an option to her. His burning lungs, and a throbbing pulse from his tweaked ankle forewarned him that he could not continue to chase indefinitely. His eyes focused on the larger figure; what sort of man would steal a small girl away in the twilight? This man was going to die. Standing and extending his still crimson-slicked dagger away from his fatigued frame, Storm fired a mighty, sizzling bolt of electricity in their direction, targeting the large Coronian White Maple some seventy feet in front of the two. Blocking the street would be easier than hoping it would come to an end before they got tired of running.

Outrun that, asshole.

The lightning mage's bolt worked to devastating effect. The tree he'd targeted was going bare not just in preparation for the oncoming winter, but because it was sick. Blackish blotches marred the leaves that fell from its branches. Its smooth brown bark hid a rotted, worm-eaten core. A healthy tree could have withstood such a strike, but this one would have collapsed anyway beneath the first heavy snow. With an ear-splitting groan and a series of thunderous SNAPS and CRACKS, the afflicted maple toppled, sending a hail of sweet-smelling branches careening in all directions.

One, longer than Taische was tall and easily twice her weight, spun straight for her little frame like a javelin. Her boots skidded on smooth cobblestone while she tried to stop and duck under the oncoming projectile, but it was the wrong move, and nearly her last. Kryos, quicker and more experienced, grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her away so hard that pain exploded in her shoulder. The branch shot through the space she'd been, and a startled grunt escaped her throat as she and her companion vanished down a shadowy alley.

Immediately, the rancid stench of decay overwhelmed the little girl, making her gag while her guardian pulled her through foul puddles and past heaps of rotting refuse. Roaches and rats scattered ahead of them, though they hissed and chattered angrily at the interlopers. A wall rose ominously in front of them, separating the long warehouses from the residential part of town.

A door greeted the fugitives when they reached the wall, an iron and oak access into one of the buildings that enclosed them. Kryos grabbed the knob, twisting it with all his strength and throwing his entire body into it, but the door remained steadfast. Desperate, he looked up. The mortar between the small, neat bricks was cracked and crumbling, but not enough for either him or the child to have quick purchase on. It was too tall for her to get over, and he couldn't carry her the whole way. But their pursuers were coming quickly behind, and running back into the street would put them directly in the line of fire.

Kryos drew his sword again, instinctively nudging his ward behind him. They had no recourse but to stand and fight, and of course the child couldn't face two grown mages. He hoped his ability would be enough.

Taische panted, a little winded from the long run. They were trapped, and if she didn't get them untrapped, Kryos would die. She knew that if Uncle Storm blasted them both, she'd just get pushed into the wall. If Uncle Mal lit them both on fire, she didn't think she'd burn so easily. But she'd gotten Kryos into trouble, and that was not okay.

I wonder if this will work...

The little girl crouched and put her hands on the slimy stones, though she shuddered at the built up sludge. This wasn't okay either.

Ewwwwww. Focus! Come on!

She took a deep breath and concentrated, feeling the earth beneath her palms. With a mighty magic heave, she shoved the earth beneath the wall down a few feet. It scraped loudly, despite a harsh, insistent SHUSH! from the child. She ducked to go through, but Kryos grabbed her shoulder.

"Hold on," he commanded. "There may be worse on the other side." With that, he dropped into the hole to emerge on the other side of the wall. "It's safe," he called after a second. "Hurry up!"

Instead, Taische looked into the hole, then back to the street, where broken branches laid in the lamp light. Uncle Storm and Uncle Mal were bad men, and if she didn't go stop them, they would start killing people soon. They might have already started. Fear fought with a budding sense of responsibility in her chest, but she knew she only had one option. She couldn't let innocents die, not if she could help it. She was the daughter of Karuka O'Sheean, after all.

"I'm sorry," she called through the tunnel. "I can't. If I don't go to them, bad things will happen. Really bad things. Thank you. Bye." With that, she pulled back up on the lowered ground, pulling it back into place and starting to jog toward the alley entrance. Fire ignited on her hands, drying and purifying the unidentifiable nastiness that she'd touched moments before. Thoughtlessly, she brushed it off on the sides of her dress.

She didn't know Uncle Mal very well, but she did know Uncle Storm. There was one thing she could do, one weapon in her arsenal, one power at her disposal, that she knew she could stop him with - if he still liked her well enough to not just backhand her when she got close.

She left the alley at a run, turning sharply into the street regardless of any potential danger. "Uncle Mal! Uncle Storm!" She picked up speed, aiming herself directly at the electromancer so she could wrap her arms around him in a tight hug. She knew she looked pitiful, with a few stray twigs lodged into her hair, scrapes on her right side from squeezing through the stable fence, and bruises on her left side from an incident a day or two prior. Hopefully the whole look would just help her slow the two men down long enough for them to not kill anybody.

The fuck?! was the only thing Rayse could think of the grisly scene of Storm's impromptu murder, passing by the man who was still reeling and dead before he hit the ground. Goddess-damned crazy bastard, I almost got splattered by the blood! His custom tailored vest aside, there was also the concern that Storm had simultaneously no empathy for this passerby and yet cared about Taische. What kind of relationship did the two have, anyway? How did he get so attached in such a short amount of time? More importantly, why did Rayse care? Either way, he just shanked someone in the middle of the street. Even Rayse wasn't that audacious.

He found it difficult keeping up with Storm, likely an additional effect of mission he was on earlier. While he generally was a strong drinker, moving at this speed did make him feel quite uneasy. It didn't help when a tree practically exploded and threatened to yet again soil his designer slacks. Following close behind the lightning mage turned out to be a bad idea. Rayse stopped and absorbed his surroundings, knowing that they were entering some sort of warehouse district. They could actually lose them in a place filled with so many dark pockets.

He turned around and ran down another path, trying to head them off. Unfortunately, the buildings were packed so close together that there was no way to make a detour. There were a few people milling about, a cart pulling some construction goods, and an old man smoking a pipe on a barrel, but the work hours were over. An earthy scene permeated the area, the hard work of people wafting in the air. He noticed a stack of crates and climbed them like an enlarged staircase, finally jumping up onto the roof, pulling himself up and sprinting across the rooftop toward Storm's heartfelt beckoning. He put aside momentarily the idea of Taische calling him Uncle Storm and finally found himself directly above all the commotion. Right when he got there, he saw Taische running towards Storm, and he was reminded of a similar scene.

A while ago, he helped an associate recover their daughter from The Cult of Blessed Torture. She had been under their control for a long time, and recent experiments threatened her existence entirely, so they had to act fast, which meant Rayse didn't know what he was going into. When they got there, deep in the catacombs under Corone where The Cult lurked, she looked unharmed, glad to see them, her face with an innocent smile. And then just like that, still smiling, she stabbed her father in the heart. He knew full well the power of the mind, how it can be rended so deeply that the person on the other side was completely different. Was Taische under the same sort of mind control because of this bastard? Was she being threatened? Rayse had no way of knowing, and neither did Storm. Even if it was Taische, if she was to suddenly attack him... what would he do? Rayse had to act.

He took a couple steps back, then vaulted himself forward, his body turning red and partially transparent, leaving a trail of light in his descent. The next moment, he burst into hundreds of flame wisps, each of them snaking their way toward the girl like a strong gust of wind. His intention was to reform right behind her and put both her arms into a lock behind her ahead in one motion, and then yell at Storm to keep going and destroy the opening behind him. Not knowing the extent that Taische was being manipulated, he would also warn Storm to try to keep the other guy alive for interrogation later.

“Taische!”

Only the groan of shifting earth answered his call as the young mage sealed off the passageway. He called after her again.

Foolish child! What is she thinking?

With no time to be surprised at her magical abilities, he turned and began searching for a way through the maze in which he now found himself. The tunnel had burrowed into one of the warehouses belonging to the Concordian Connection, apparent by the iconic “double C’s” branded into the crates and barrels that filled the building’s belly. To his right, a stairway ascended to the catwalks that crisscrossed the vaulted ceilings. If he could get to the windows . . .

His heart thudded and the warm, pine scented air caught in his throat as the earthen-colored shelves, supplies and illuminated dust blurred. He gripped the iron railing for support as the fire of his eyes faded to ash. The timing couldn’t have been worse.

He grit his teeth in frustration as his surroundings shifted in and out of his focus. How many times? he wondered. How many times have I been left behind and unable to act? To save those who needed me? His mind raced to the recovered memory of chasing after the Dawnbringers, to give aid against an enemy too great to be defeated. Despite his efforts, he hadn’t been able to do anything. To change anything.

To save Ingwe.

The regret and anger drove him forward. But for what, Kryos couldn’t say. Only by continuing would understanding come.

He leaned his head back against the rough wall, his gaze mirroring the dying light as he waited for the Transient State to end and his abilities to be restored. His hand tightened over his sword with impatience.

Then he heard her scream.

The piercing cry came down like a hammer upon the anvil of his mind, evoking flashes of the girl he thought he saw minutes before. Her golden hair spinning as she turned toward him. Running through a torchlit hallway of obsidian stone. The beauty of laughter playing at her lips, and tears falling from dirtied cheeks. The soft voice reverberated in his mind as she spoke his name.

The flash of a blade at her neck, and the silhouette of evil behind her.

Pack dropping to the ground, Kryos bolted up the stairs without another thought, shock and desperation carved across his face. His fingers struggled to open the windows, and in his haste he simply shattered the large pane with the hilt of his weapon.

A cool, gentle breeze played with his dark hair and clothes as he climbed to the peak of the roof and jogged along the crest. He reached the edge of the warehouse, dropped to one knee and looked down into the darkened alley where the girl had left him. Despite his impaired vision and the shadows cast by the sun, half-hidden by the horizon, he could still make out the situation.

His companion fought against one of the men, although he couldn't make out exactly which one had her arms pinned behind her head.

“LET ME GO!” she shouted, sending distressed echoes reverberating off nearby walls. “YOU'RE HURTING ME!” A wave of heat and light burst from the child, enveloping her and her captor but stopping short of the second man. “LET! GO!”

Kryos narrowed his eyes as the flames illuminated the alley, and he searched for a way down. Normally, it would have been a simple matter to descend, swords seeking the blood of the men below. However, with his vision limited for a few minutes more, his inborn caution held sway.

He raced along the edge of the roof, feet sounding hollowly on the corrugated tin. Perhaps a way down lay along the riverfront that he could use to simultaneously flank them. As he ran, he steeled himself and wished the sun would hurry up and disappear from the horizon.

This time, he had to protect her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~
”Uncle Mal!"
A flash of red, a furious, desperate grab.
The casual reference to Karuka.
The too-perfect friendship, formed straight from the still-warm ashes of Radasanth.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~

Click. Click. Click. Click.

All the delicate tendrils of impossible, fibrous fate began to cross each other in a geometric web that seemed far too beautiful to be anything but meticulously planned. Of course, Storm had never recognized the name Rayse Valentino, nor connected it to his niece’s father, whom she had conspicuously referenced multiple times as “Uncle Mal”. Her mother had seen to his ignorance. Karuka had told him so little, and Rayse had told him less.

Ceasing his run, the wizard stood frozen for a moment near the base of the wall the child had just sealed, trying to piece together the impetus for this insanity. His chest heaved as he sucked in the cool air, his lungs burning and heart pounding as he tried to reconcile it all.

Rayse used you to get back to his girl. HIS girl, not yours. HIS girl, the same one Karuka had kept from him. Just like she kept you from her. Just as she let her be dragged off with this random asshole into the bowels of Corone.

Control. It was ALWAYS about control, wasn’t it?

The magician affixed himself to the notion that it was Karuka who had been the puppeteer, a notion that shook him to the foundation. It was incredible; how could he have been so thoroughly deceived? Karuka had been the only individual he had truly trusted; by extension she was the only one capable of effectively deceiving him. A lingering hiccup of doubt was all that kept abject hatred at bay. He needed answers, and it was unlikely the diminutive girl would be able to provide any. Her protector, kidnapper, or assailant would be the source of information, if there indeed was more to be gleaned.

But where in the blue f*ck is he?

The heavens answered Storm Veritas, as the crash of glass from the higher floors of the warehouse screeched a piercing, tinny echo down to him. Moments later, as if on cue, the dim silhouette of the interloper appeared thirty feet above him, peering over the edge of the edifice at the struggle below. The electromancer scrambled to find metal; anything large and ore-rich would do. The stone and mortar foundation offered little help; the chemically treated wooden ballasts of the great building appeared even less useful. Ten feet from the base of the building, a short pole spilled from the ground, rising high from the cobblestones before doubling back down, suspending a shrouded oil light. A hollow “ting” answered the tap of his dagger, confirming his suspicion that the pole may serve his trick.

He quickly jumped, pulling his body into a low crouch atop the lamppost’s arch. His weight immediately caused a creak, squeal, and sag from the thin metal, which he ignored completely as he suspended the dagger firmly an inch from the top of the metal. It was dangerous, stupid, and perfect.

Screw it. Any port in a storm.

A hard, soundless pulse was generated, the electromagnetic field sending both metal objects in opposite directions with speed, power, and reckless abandon. The streetlamp crashed to the ground as though sucked intentionally from the earth’s very core. Moving upward, the blade carried Storm Veritas in a high, wild arc, sailing toes over head as he somersaulted to the roof. His body was cast as a hard ebony shadow against the purple-pink background of the setting sun, the only light apparent within his frame popping from his pulsing white eyes. The stranger on the roof would pay him.

He would pay with answers, or he would pay with blood.

“Uncle Storm! Uncle Stooooooooorrrrrm!” Taische’s voice rose to a piercing shrill that set more than a few dogs to howling. Her body instinctively fought Uncle Mal’s pinning grab. She’d known when she burst that she couldn’t hurt him with fire; he’d been impervious to her panicked attacks in his Knife’s Edge penthouse. She had hoped that it would make him let go, or at least provoke Storm into coming to her aid.

When she’d decided to turn around and face her uncles, it hadn’t been because she trusted both men to be on her side. Uncle Mal was an empty man; the only person he had room for in his heart was himself. She’d spent a few days with him after he’d reclaimed her from a two-week hell in Alerar. He’d tried to be normal: he’d taught her how to yoyo, he’d talked to her, he’d fed her, sheltered her, and given her clothes while they’d waited for her mother to come for her. But though she’d tried to be normal also and pretend that the emptiness behind his eyes didn’t scare her, it did.

She’d spent much more time with Uncle Storm. They’d traveled with her mom through part of Dheathain, they’d been on boat rides, they’d had a disastrous day in town. But he’d risked his life to protect her more than once, and even if he picked on her sometimes, she had trusted him with every single piece of faith she had to keep her from harm.

Mom sent him away and he hates us now. If I’d waved and said hi when I saw them on the roof, would me and Kryos be eating dinner right now and then go camping? Why did they chase us down if they don’t like us? Is it BECAUSE they don’t like us? Is it because they don’t like my mom anymore and want to make her sad? Are they that bad that they’d hurt me and a stranger?

The raven-haired little girl stopped struggling for a second, sagging dejectedly. Briny tears stung her eyes; though rough and misshapen, the picture had fallen into place for her. She’d lost the love of the only man in half a world who really, truly cared about her, and now she had no one but her mother. She felt like a big chunk of her world had just shattered like a porcelain plate.

Uncle Storm had almost killed her when he dropped the tree, and maybe it had even been on purpose. Now he was going to kill Kryos. Uncle Mal was going to kill her, just as easy as that. Then her mother was going to kill both of them. But why had any of this happened?

If yer going t’ die, y’ have t’ fight ‘till yer last breath.

Karuka’s words, repeated over and over again through the years, wormed their way into Taische’s ear. Her shoulder throbbed from being contorted so hard right after Kryos had yanked her to safety, but she ignored it. Her fists clenched behind her head and her hands crackled for a moment before shooting a blast of electricity at the near-stranger who held her fast. She couldn’t kill him with it, but if it hit full on, it would hurt. Her whole body twisted hard, pulling free of Mal’s strong grip.

She darted back quickly, bending her knees so that her posture was low and balanced, and she quickly glanced back to make sure Kryos was still all right. She knew she had to focus on the wicked man in front of her, though.

Her tear-filled eyes narrowed and her lips curled back from her teeth. Dim lamplight flickered across her face and the musty night breeze stirred her long, wild hair. She glowered with all the ferocity her little body could muster, as much out of her own newly-stirred fury as a brazen attempt to convince the man she faced that she wasn’t afraid of him.

“What do you want, Uncle Mal?”

"Hey! Stop struggling! Simmer down!" He meant that literally, what with all the human torch act.

Between all the shrieking and flailing, Rayse was having a hard time keeping a grip light enough not to crush her arms but strong enough to keep her from simply slipping through. It was as if he was trying to bathe an obstinate, wet cat. Eventually, it looked like she gave up.

"Finally. Now listen, I told Storm to interrogate him so he will probably not kill him, but - HRRRRK!" An electric shock coursed through his system, causing him to loosen his grip enough for Taische to get away. He fell backwards, hitting the ground hard and gasping for air. His body felt heavy as he stared up into the darkening sky, the breeze knocking loose strands of hair across his face. Part of him wanted to move, but another just wanted to lie there. The feeling didn't last long, as he started to regain feeling in his extremities. He shook his head and got back up, his body still jittery. "You little... Ugh..."

I think I'm going to throw up.

Taische was now in a stance in front of him, baring her fangs like a cornered dog. She glared at him like he was a starving furboar. He noticed the tears in her eyes, and scratched his head.

Not mind control, huh? So that leaves the threat, which I'm starting to find really hard to believe. When did she learn all this shit? Does this mean she's with this guy of her own volition? I doubt Karuka would let that happen after Storm... so bringing up her mother probably wouldn't get me anywhere. Not that I want to go down that road.

"What do I want?" Why. He wanted to know why. Right? "Who is that guy, and why are you with him? With the way you two bolted, I thought was threatening you." He put his hands in his pants pockets to try to look as undiscriminating as possible, although nothing could betray the coldness in his eyes. She called for Storm, after all. Storm. He couldn't deny that he felt a little hurt.

Kryos came to an abrupt halt as the tall, pale man flew up and landed on the roof a few paces in front of him. Apparently, the duo had opted to divide and conquer. His mind raced as he evaluated his options.

He could fight through his pursuer in order to reach the far side, where a safe and easy way down may or may not await him. On the other hand, he could jump from the warehouse to deal with the man below, hoping that he would land uninjured. Even if that went smoothly, it didn’t take care of the problem standing before him. No, the only way where they could both escape involved neutralizing the threat, here and now.

Or you could run.

The thought sent a wave of burning fury coursing through his veins. He had had enough running away.

Head on, then.

A sharp crack flashed in the alleyway below as he moved his blade to his left hand. His gaze remained locked on his opponent, and he doubted that an appeal to what remained of the man’s reason would resolve things. He reached up, gripping the hilt of his elven sword. Fine steel sang in the cool Coronian dusk, eager to fulfill the job for which it was forged. Calming his breathing, he sent subtle tendrils of his magic into the edges of his blades. Invisible in the waning light, the power lay in wait for the moment when it could rip into the soul of his opponent.

It is faster to act than to react.

He exploded forward, closing the short distance in two great strides. Veering slightly to the left, his sword left silver streaks in Kryos’ sight as it sailed straight for the bastard’s neck. If he could get him off balance, then maybe . . .

Only then did he notice the dagger that flashed against the growing twilight.

Taische’s words had hit him as he vaulted towards the rooftop, but they were easily dismissed. At best, she was too young to understand the perspective of her own father, a man that only sought to preserve her safety. At worst, the apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree of manipulation, and it was little more than a ploy to tug the wizard’s heartstrings and keep him from hurting anyone. In either event, the words echoed like a memory to him, a thousand miles away as he turned his focus to the man on the roof. He was poised, waiting.

So you choose to pay with blood. Your funeral, asshole.

The magician’s mouth twisted in a thin, sinister grin as he settled his feet squarely beneath him, only a few feet from the edge of the rooftop. The flat, tar-painted surface had held warmth well, and the winds pushed firmly against his back. The normal sounds and scents which typically paint their mark on a moment in time were dulled away by the dire nature of the situation. The stranger began to move, brandishing a long, thin blade.

Swords. Common, effective, and always borne from metal. Too bad you aren’t standing in water and closing your eyes; it’s the only way you could make this easier on me.

The charge and assault of the strange, red-eyed assailant was balanced and skillful, however harmless it would prove. With a quick, effortless wave of his hand, Storm produced a second, silent magnetic wave that deflected the path of the blade, sending it sailing wide of his frame as though pushed aside by the Gods themselves. With a deft pivot, Veritas countered the initial attack with a quick stab at the throat of the man, meaning to end the battle before it truly began.

“Goodnight.”

”TING!”

Whoa, shit!

The stranger had somehow managed to block the dagger, with a quick turn and parry which was faster than anything Storm had seen in close combat. The speed shouldn’t have surprised him like it did; no standard swordsman would be able to abscond with Taische, nor prove a worthy bodyguard for the prodigy.

His dagger flailed up in his hand, sending the aged veteran backwards a half step. His eyes widened by the near-preposterous speed of this almost ordinary looking monster, his heels pressed against the knee-high parapet. He was vulnerable, like the cornered animal.

His frame high and daggers drawn, he fired a quick, direct arc of sizzling white energy at the swordsman. Given the speed of the soldier, Storm was pessimistic about his bolt’s success, but hoped to at least buy a moment to reset his feet.

He thought what? Who’s ever threatened me if they weren’t really trying to threaten mom, instead? Were they worried?

Mal’s words cut through all of Taische’s previous deductions, confusing her and leaving her off balance. She still watched the man warily. She called him “uncle” because he’d told her that he was a friend of her mother’s, but she’d seen the loathing and lingering anger between them. Her mom talked about Uncle Storm, and Uncle Seth, and Uncle Taviri, but never Uncle Mal. There was really no bond there. So why did he care? Or was it Uncle Storm who cared, and just pulled his friend along?

But Uncle Storm ran right after Kryos. So that means he either really trusts Uncle Mal, or he really doesn’t care about me. Little did she know how much more complicated the truth was than her limited understanding.

Unconsciously, the child’s posture responded to the adult’s; as he tried to look unthreatening, she straightened up and dropped her snarl. She reflexively shoved her hair out of her face, although only a few locks obscured her vision. Her lips set in a firm line, as the single new piece of information conflicted in her mind with everything else she knew so far. The pieces weren’t all adding up, no matter how hard she thought.

A brief clash of steel, followed by an electric SNAP! in the darkness above jerked her out of thought and back into reality. Her eyes darted to the lazy river gently flowing mere paces away. She could hit everyone with water if she had to, but that would only make things worse. What if Uncle Storm or Kryos fell? Worse, what if they didn’t and Uncle Storm used Kryos being all wet to really zap him good? She needed to get everyone to stop fighting or someone would get hurt.

I can’t make people stop fighting by fighting. So I have to try using words instead.

“My mom’s that way.” Taische pointed toward Underwood. “She had something dangerous to take care of, so she left me in Radasanth yesterday morning. Something happened and I left just before noon today.” Her little fists planted themselves on her hips. “I met Kryos on the road. I ran from you and Uncle Storm because I didn’t want to be caught here. And I will tell you the whole story, but I will tell it to you and Uncle Storm at the same time, so get him back down here. He won’t get anything by fighting.”

Taische stood tall and held her head high, giving herself as much command presence as a nine year old could. She glared imperiously at the finely-dressed Mal, well aware that he probably wouldn’t capitulate to her command. She hoped, instead, that he’d want to hear her story enough to call Uncle Storm back.

The hot air wafted through the corridors of the palace, followed by the sun's rays as the royal treasurer's steps brought him into the light. While the inner wall to his right was solid, white stone, on his left were simple stone pillars, roughly as wide as him, each separated by a couple meters. While it made for a mess in the rainy days, they were rare in this jungle climate. Several well-maintained gardens with marble roads in-between were in full view, and beyond them were vibrant savannas. Further in the distance was the deadly beauty of the ancient jungles.

It was a particularly arid day, but the treasurer did not mind, with not a drop of sweat to be found anywhere on his white, linen robed figure. Despite the beautiful view beyond the palace courtyard and the scent of cut grass, he was focused solely on the parchment in front of him while walking, each sandal clapping on the ground along a familiar path. He was humming a familiar tune to himself, and between notes he could hear the laughter of children in one of the gardens below, likely playing in the fountains. He didn't even notice that someone snuck up on him.

"What are you singing, Rayse?" She asked.

Rayse turned around, his focus broken by the interloper. In front of him was a woman equally garbed in a robe, although it was scarlet and the sash was gold to his blue, with a gold banner across her shoulder to indicate her status as a royal guard. Her sandals were like his, and she kept her long rosy hair wrapped up in a ponytail. Every time he saw her, he nearly drowned in her eyes.

He smiled. "Oh, just something I picked up from one of the Duke's maids. I heard it so many times it's ingrained in my memory. How long have you been following me, Karuka?"

Karuka raised an accusing finger, "Following you? You've been asking around for me all morning! Then you disappeared into the archive for hours!"

"Oh, yeah. Sorry." He scratched his head. "The yearly budget is due soon and I keep getting distracted."

"It's Taische, isn't it?"

They walked together, heading into one of the inner corridors. Tapestries hung across the entire length of the walls between intersections, detailing various animals and seasonal festivals. They walked down a staircase to the ground level, their destination being the largest garden in the center of the palace. Rayse had been concerned for a while over what to do for Taische's ninth birthday. It's something he has wanted to do for a couple years now.

He cast Karuka a sidelong glance, "I think it's time I took her to see my homeland. She's old enough now to travel long distances."

As expected, she frowned, although she knew he was thinking this. "I thought we left that world behind. To raise them. To live a peaceful life. If you go there... you might not want to come back."

Rayse stopped and shook his head, "Your fears are unfounded. I would come back for sure. This isn't for me, it's for her. She's inherited your wanderlust, and I don't want to get left behind by her ambitions. I found out that she asked a villager to build her a mock boat that emulated the swaying caused by ocean waves. She's been practicing, uh, not throwing up. I don't see how this is different from you taking her into the jungle. It's actually not nearly as dangerous." Although, it was certainly no trip to the silk farm.

"I'll think about it. She's never known anything other than Jalaan, after all."

“Please do. She’s never seen the tall Raiaeran trees, the Aleran peaks, or even snow! She’s never seen snow, Karu!”

When they made it to the gardens, the plants nearly rose up to greet them, forming a wreath of green around the entrance. The smell of exotic flowers hit them as they walked in, and pollen floated in the air. They saw Taische playing in the fountain with several other children. They looked around for another child, but he was missing.

"Tash!" Rayse yelled out. Her little brother was nowhere in sight. "Where is Vinc-"

Rayse snapped out of his daydream. In front of him was a brash, desperate little nine year old. Nine years... That was how much he missed. It passed by in a blink of an eye. Also, her story didn't add up. Did she... purposefully leave out details? That's pretty advanced for her age. The sound of metal on metal on the rooftops told him that Kryos was no pushover, either, although the name was familiar. Maybe it was a blurb he saw in one of his intelligence reports years ago.

"This has nothing to do with your mom," he said. "It has everything to do with you. I don't know if this is normal where you're from, but around here you grown men don't just team up with little girls. Especially shady looking characters like that. Not unless they have ulterior motives." Rayse really needed a smoke, but he felt like waiting a bit longer. "That guy's unhinged. I can tell from here." Fuck it. He pulled out a cigarette, put it in his mouth, and lit it with the tip of his thumb. "But I'm a reasonable man. How about this: Prove to me that people like him pose no threat to you."

He pulled up one of his bracelets and pulled off some of the enchanted spidersilk wrapped around his arms. He attached one end to a throwing dagger in his pocket, and did this for another dagger. He threw one at the ground a few meters to Taische's left and another one to her right, forming an isosceles triangle with him as one of the corners.

"Get through me and I'll believe that you can handle yourself."

It took all of Kryos’ concentration to see through the hazy flurry of strikes and counterstrikes. He thought that he had secured victory at his initial rush until the troublesome wizard starting throwing in bolts of lightning here and there. From how the man used his abilities, Kryos knew that he had more experience at combat. Thanks to the unknown gods, as well as his physical ability, he had managed to remain mostly unscathed. The cool caress of evening wind upon his skin revealed cuts in his shirt over his left collarbone, as well as the back of his gloved hand. It came down to a race against time, and whether or not he could hold out until his gray eyes finished their shift to silver.

No matter how he attacked, no matter the speed or frequency, his swords only seemed to be met by the twisted daggers that danced in the drunkard’s hands. Something didn’t make sense. Never before had he been unable to even scratch his opponent. There must be another factor in play.

Another oscillating arc of light warned Kryos of the impending spell. He had no time to think, only to react. He dodged to the right, but not fast enough. Desperate to avoid the shock, he relinquished his grip on the sword in his left hand. Hysterical crackling enveloped the steel, light racing along its length as it soared over the darkened rooftop. The hairs on his arm stood on edge in its wake.

Both hands now wielding his elven sword, he deflected the quick succession of blows, but not without a line of icy fire streaking across his forearm. His breath hissed out between clenched teeth and he jumped back across the grooved metal roof, seeking a respite. None came as the glimmer of first blood intensified the assault. He needed to change the focus, and now.

Two can play at this game.

Midnight tendrils of fragmenting flame rose from his arms and sword as he called forth his magic. While harmless without direct contact, his show of power bought enough time to regain his footing.

The wind swept away the sound of their heavy breathing in a momentary pause. Blood traced down his arm and fell to the roof with an almost inaudible plink that reminded him that he needed to finish things quickly. At this rate, he didn’t know if he could last through the remainder of the sunset. He quickly glanced to the far horizon.

Soon, but not soon enough.

He sprung forward, steel once again seeking blood. As he expected, the blade magically went wide, altogether missing its mark. He pivoted and, ebony spirals of magic enveloping his fist, closed the distance in what he well knew to be a huge gamble. At this point, though, he didn’t have the luxury of many other options.

Quote:

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[OOC: Friendly reminder; bunnies have been approved]

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The choreographed dance of twisting metal waltzed onward, the symphonic melody of the high-pitched percussion ringing out loudly to any that could observe the impromptu duel. Against a backdrop of deep red painted with fibrils of autumnal orange, the two shadows worked back and forth in shared forms of futility. As expected, Storm felt wildly overmatched in sheer skill with the blades, leaning heavily on his generation of magnetic fields to reroute the incoming sword arcs through safer pathways.

Still can’t hit the little sonofabitch. Need to get him tied down, get that sword stuck in a beam, a ballast, or brick.

The wizard’s assaults had found little purchase; a few glancing scratches and scrapes that would barely leave sufficient scars to serve as pick-up lines for his opponent’s future sexual conquests. Veritas himself had been virtually unscathed, however his magic was all but exhausted, and his lungs burned like some hot bricks in an active chimney flue. Yet another strike averted, he breathed deeply as he considered a novel angle from which to counter.

He lacked the time for such a breath.

The sweeping fist of his considerable foe came barreling overhead, and there was no metal available for him to manipulate. This realization came far too late; coupled with his own mild intoxication he had no chance of avoiding the punch. He rolled his head back, absorbing enough of the shot to retain consciousness.

It was more of an explosion than a punch; a wave of some black magic floating away in their own rapid helixes as two knuckles found their mark upon his cheek. His head rolled hard and body fell backwards into the parapet, propped up and caught firmly by the retaining wall. The impact upon the wall was considerable, albeit a far greater scenario than tumbling over the roof.

Stay with it. Shit, gods that f*cking hurt. Eyes up. He’s coming back for the kill. Bleed later.

His experience served him well as he raised his blades before him, a defensive posture that deflected a large sword strike. This follow-up attack was only partially deflected, as the blade tore not through his skull but rather a healthy dose of shoulder meat. Storm scrambled to his knees as the swordsman popped back against the corner of the retaining wall, poised like a boxer awaiting the counterpunch.

He’s too goddamned fast, and you’re wiped out. Turn the tables; what can’t he dodge?

All is fair in love and war, a mantra the electromancer had learned far too many times to count. Nobility and chivalry didn’t serve the dead. He ran once more at this mysterious fighter, flipping his dagger clear over the head of him. With the skillful grace of a falcon plucking a mouse from the field, Kryos deftly deflected the blade. In doing so, he had raised his elbows and blade high, even averting his eyes for a chance moment.

The moment proved enough time.

With tremendous speed, Storm crashed a shoulder into the chest of the would-be kidnapper, wrapping his arm around the man’s lifting and running, lifting, arching his back with all his might. The brick and mortar parapet of the warehouse roof was easily cleared, however the momentum of the strike was too much to cease. His own knees struck the hard stone firmly, and the two were over the wall, tumbling haphazardly.

Taische looked at Uncle Mal, an unimpressed glower stamped upon her face. She barely even flinched when a sword clattered loudly to the ground. Get through him and he'd believe that she could take care of herself? Was this a game to him, when Kryos and Uncle Storm still fought furiously above them? Was this a joke? A spar?

Meanwhile, she couldn't help but notice that despite her screams, no one had come. The people of Lounton weren't as concerned about the safety of a distressed child as they were about not getting caught by the wrath of magic users. That was fair enough, she supposed. She knew that at least Uncle Storm had no problems killing people if he had to, and she figured that Uncle Mal was the same. How could she blame strangers for not wanting to die?

Get through him. Fine.

She didn't know what he was playing at with the daggers on string, but she took out her yoyo and spun it a couple of times. The cold stone smacked hard into her hand, as ready to fight as it was to play. The wind around her stirred her hair and dress, reminding her that it would help her if she asked. The river mumbled in agreement. All she had to do was motion. Grasses and seeds in the cobblestone cracks whispered their eagerness to grow. Fire and lightning raged within her, all ready to be unleashed.

In Jalaan, ladies didn't use magic against non-magic users. That rule had spared a couple of people extra pain in the year since she'd been uprooted. But Uncle Mal had fire. The rule didn't apply against him. And she was fed up. She was fed up of running, she was fed up of getting chased, she was fed up of people fighting needless battles for dumb reasons. She just wanted to get some food and go to bed and not have to deal with adults acting like babies.

It was time for them to stop.

"Listen, Uncle Mal. I don't have time for playing games. There are lives at stake." Gold flooded out from around Taische's pupils to almost overwhelm their normal blue, though it was hardly noticeable in the dim lamplight. The air around the pyromancer's head shimmered, preventing fresh air from coming into his lungs after a breath or two.

"You're going to go to sleep in a little bit. It only works faster if you struggle. But before you pass out, tell me this: why do you even care?"

Out of Character:

Bunnies approved.

Looks like you know that you can't get through me with physical force. Good, I need you to show me something new. Show me something that can kill.

Sparks flew into the air from the fight above them, but Rayse had all but forgotten about the two up there. He raised a brow when she produced something that looked suspiciously like a yo-yo. He was reminded of himself for a moment, how he had weaponized a child's toy. Back then, he was more than eager to inflict pain, to humiliate, to torture. Since spending time in the other worlds, those desires washed away, and all that was left were questions about what he really wanted. Finding no answers, it drove him to drink more heavily than before, the alcohol fueling his fire-ridden body. Then one day, this girl was dumped into his lap. Her first impression was fear, confusion, but now the look in her eyes was something more sure. Anger, determination...

... Hate? Did she hate him for what he was doing? Did Karuka instill this hatred of him? Or did she learn it on her own?

"Games? Lives at stake?" He said, gritting his teeth. "What do you know about games? Who do you think Storm is up there fighting for? You're..." He swallowed. He was trouble getting the words out, and not for lack of desire, but they felt physically stuck in his throat. At the next attempt to speak, he realized that he was suffocating.

Either I just conveniently forgot how to breathe, or she did this! Think, Rayse! What do you know about their abilities? Fire, lightning, wind, earth, air... This is air manipulation! I just need to...

He jumped backwards and tried to take another breath, but to no avail. He was in some sort of bubble, although it felt like it was only around his head. The world became wave in front of him, and his vision was losing focus every few seconds. A creeping headache ran from the back of his ear to his neck. He stomped the ground and a flame ran up his legs, engulfing his body. In the next moment, he disappeared into countless wisps of flame. He was only gone for a second, as he reformed several meters from where he stood. Once again, breathing didn't work. She could move the bubble!

The question she asked nearly made him forget about his predicament. Cockiness aside, it was a damn good question. Unlike all her other uncles, Rayse wasn't friends with Karuka. His only interaction with her, as far as she knows, was returning her to her mother. At the risk of running out of breath, he started talking.

"Because..."

O'Sheean women don't need fathers. That was one of the first things she said to me. But then what about this cadre of uncles? Aren't they all replacement fathers to her? She's searching for something, even if she's not conscious of it. Karuka came to this world alone, without anyone to understand what life was like for her. But Taische has none of that. She was born in good company, she doesn't need Karuka's ideals. She can have her own. She doesn't have to be alone.

- - - -

Rayse perused the collection of reports. She met who? She did what? Including being routinely separated from her mother, she continually got into trouble. Aside from that, it didn't look like she made the connection yet. Karuka hasn't told her anything yet, either. Rayse told himself that this was the best outcome, since if he was the father, wouldn't Karuka say something about it? Now he could forget about her. He didn't need the reports anymore.

- - - -

"I'm your..."

What am I after here? Is it enough for me if she's safe? Or is there something more? Maybe... Maybe it's not too late. To start over. To continue where I left off, way back when. I fell into the abyss and climbed back out, and since then the world has looked so small. All the things I thought were important, money and power, were inconsequential. None of it brought me happiness. Doiteain as Cothromaicht... Maybe now I could...

- - - -

Despite that, he kept reading the ones that came in. One of particular note was a Citadel battle. Ignoring the obvious parental negligence that would lead to a child entering a such a place, he discovered that her opponent was none other than Madison Freebird, one of The Five involved in the Red Forest Incident. What's more, Taische... won? He didn't know the details, but the result was clear. It had to have been a fluke, right? How could someone get so powerful in such a short time?

He couldn't help the growing smirk across his face.

- - - -

"I... I just do, alright? I don't need a reason."

Then again, maybe not.

He reached down and pulled up his pant leg, revealing the strap that held his knife Kapteyn. Creation magic was difficult to deal with, since manipulating the environment around oneself did not result in any magical objects. He couldn't absorb a rock that was thrown at him, or water being splashed at him. However, this bubble was being maintained somehow. It must have been actively supplied with magic. With only seconds to spare, he retrieved it and tried to shove it into the bubble, but the air being pushed out was also keeping his weapon out. He had to stab into it with force.

With only seconds left, his was starting to lose his balance. He stabbed as hard as he could into the bubble, his head turning to flames as the blade passed through. Like a whirlpool, the sword sucked in the surrounding magic, creating a swirling torrent of wind around him. It only took a moment, and then the blade was burning red hot, steam rising from it. His head reformed, and he took the biggest breath of his life, following by a series of hacking coughs.

Between coughs, he managed to stammer out, "Nice trick, kid." He didn't have much time to recover, because a pair of swordsmen flew so far over his head that they crashed into the nearby river. "Oh shit." He looked at Taische. "I guess it wasn't a fluke. Move it!" He dropped his knife and ran towards the water. He had no idea if either of the men could swim, and letting Taische go right after a couple of people she cared about drowned wouldn't look very good on his permanent record.

Out of Character:

As I have not explicitly stated it yet, bunnies have been approved, for the record.

The air that had just filled his lungs escaped with such velocity that it left Kryos gasping. He felt as if he had just been swatted by a Raiaeran Redspined Wyvern’s broad tail by how hard and fast the man collided with him. Eyes widening with fear, he felt the top row of the parapet’s stonework give way as their legs crashed against it, crushed mortar digging into his calves. Then, they were sailing through the air.

Still locked in the crushing bear hug, unable to breathe, Kryos swung his open palm and against his pursuer’s head. The grip released and their tangled bodies began to separate. Against his command, his lungs would still not expand. Flailing wilding in a panicked attempt to locate what must be the fast approaching ground, he prepared himself for the hard impact and following pain. Just as the world replaced the dark, pastel-colored sky, blurred edges and smeared hues finally came back into focus. With remarkable clarity he saw the row of maples, leaves darkened by the horizon’s shadow, pass under his falling frame. Directly ahead, the smooth surface of the roadside river rushed up to greet him. Shielding his head, his arms punched through the surface of the serene water.

Air! I need air!

His lungs burned as the speed of his flight carried him into the river’s warm depths. Surprisingly, he did not reach the bottom. His limbs fanned out in the darkness and he frantically began pulling himself toward the surface.

He uses lightning.

As if his thirst for oxygen wasn’t enough, the thought of his current situation did nothing to calm his heart nor aid his ascent. If the mage beat him to the shore . . .

Commanding his body to move contrary to the demands of his primitive needs, he angled toward the riverbank. He clenched his jaws shut to prevent the instinct to breathe. His hands clawed through the water in desperation. Just as he thought he could hold out no more, he felt the river heave. Like a wave of the ocean building in height before crashing on sand beaches, the river spat him out upon the grassy bank. Air mixed with equal part water rushed into his lungs, causing a violent bout of coughing.

As he recovered, he realized just how exhausted he had become. From their impromptu escape, to the duel on the warehouse roof, to the subsequent fall and near drowning. His chest ached and lungs still burned. He could feel a painful throbbing in the back of his head. The cut on his arm stung as river water ran across it. His arms and legs felt heavier than lead.

However, he had been through worse and he didn’t have time to lie around waiting for the two mages to finish him off. His hand found the hilt of his sword once more and he opened his eyes. They shone with the light of liquid mercury in the deepening dusk.

A silhouette stood before him. He pushed himself up, ready to summon the remaining dredges of his strength despite his protesting muscles. Then Kryos noticed the long dark hair, disheveled dress, and furious blue eyes glaring down at him.

“No more fighting,” the child commanded. She’d strategically placed herself between him and his rooftop assailant, and was keeping an eye on the one who had grabbed her. “From anyone. And if everyone agrees not to fight, I will explain everything. If someone still wants to fight, he can go back into the river. No more fighting.”

The clap of the open hand against the side of his head sent him reeling; only moments later his body hit the surface of the water with the force of a bat against his shoulder blades. He had contorted in desperation the best way he felt available, but the smashing impact sent him hard against the river bed, less than six feet from the surface of the smoothly-flowing waters. The collective shots didn’t concuss him, but they hurt incredibly, and the terrible forces wretched his liquid lunch up from his stomach. His vomit coupled well with the blood in his mouth and the plentiful water, rapidly dissipating and flowing away. Underwater, in the low light of early evening, it was as discreet as his purge could hope to be.

Storm resurfaced after ten seconds or so, knowing the water would likely grant him some element of sanctuary. Screwing with a lightning user in open waters was generally an awful idea, and his fast-paddling opponent seemed to understand this. Exhausted, frustrated and badly beaten, the aging mage took a few moments to rest his battered body, gently pulling water beneath him as he lazily drifted to the shoreline.

They’re both there! Both standing, and she’s got her little yo-yo. So much for the helpless cries. Looks like melodrama runs in the family, since she seems pretty f*cking fine to me.

His blood began to boil as he eyed Taische. He held no hatred for the one he’d eventually know as Kryos; he needed to get information from him, and lacked the time for diplomacy. Taische, on the other hand, left developed the habit of leaving blood, disappointment, and broken relationships in her wake. As Storm stood gingerly rose upon the shoreline, the worldly nine year old popped between the adults and proceeded to make demands.

Beautiful. F*cking beautiful. I should throw you in the goddamned river, you little shit.

The energy flowed through Storm commensurate with his growing rage, and would be as easy to sense as the color of his hair or his height. Upon his exposed forearms, visible droplets of water shook and popped off his skin, driven away by the rapid ionization of the air about him. His mandible pulsed as he clenched his teeth violently, fingers twitching absently as veins danced a rapid rumba down his forearm. He tried to bite his tongue and avoid interrupting the innocent looking little girl.

He tried, and he failed terribly.

“HOW ABOUT BEFORE YOU START TALKING, YOU SHUT THE F*CK UP!?!”

Stack blown, Veritas paced the shoreline as the other three sized him up. It was logical; he was acting like an absolute lunatic after his landing upon the river’s edge. The look on his opponent’s eyes seemed to meld the familiar theme of exhaustion and confusion; he certainly didn’t want to fight. Somehow Storm had sheathed his daggers during his crash to the waters; he absent mindedly cast them into the muddy shore, hearing them dig deeply to the wet soil with a squelch. Still fuming, he turned his gaze to the girl with little doe eyes and an unprecedented ability for carnage.

“Let’s recap, shall we? Your mom kicks me out, just like she appears to have kicked out your ‘other uncle’ here. Unceremonious, unwarranted, undeserved.”

A deep breath; he still hadn’t fully caught his breath and could feel a shortness to his ability to speak at length.

“So in to town you prance, with random asshole number three in tow, scurrying suspiciously into the local pub, fresh with a bar you can’t see over. Has he kidnapped you? Was he holding a weapon to you? Threatening you or your mom? Who the holy F*CK knows, Taische, because you dodge the two of us like we have the goddamned plague?!

“You then proceed to sprint through the city like your ass is on fire, leaving us demolish half of this happy little hamlet in our rush to ‘save’ you. Rather than talk immediately, you pitch an absolute shit-fit when Rayse… you know… ‘Uncle Mal’, has the audacity to hug you.”

He stopped his manic pacing, putting his hands on his hips and staring a hole through the face of his would-be niece. She was stunned, and he was fairly certain on the verge of a pre-pubescent meltdown.

“So now it appears I nearly killed another magic user – few as we may be – over your attention seeking. So no, you DON’T set the rules, but YES, you are going to explain everything.”

He glanced behind him in a quick aside, listening briefly to the soft whisper of the river carry jetsam into the evening.

“And try another dash and SO HELP ME F*CKING GODS you’re going in the goddamned drink.”

Out of Character:

Sorry for the massive post. ;_;

Taische’s eyes widened at Storm’s verbal assault. The last person to direct such vicious abuse at her had been someone she was actively fighting against. She’d never expected it from her uncle. Both hands gripped her yoyo, squeezing so hard that her knuckles went pale. Her boots crunched in the wet, slick gravel as she backed away, until an unseen root tripped her and landed her on her butt.

She’d reflexively reached out with her magic when he and Kryos fell in, grabbing hold of the water and making it heave them onto the bank. She regretted it a little now; maybe another few seconds in the river would have made him too tired to be angry. She just hadn’t wanted anyone to die.

She waited until the echoes of Storm’s wrath had died down before pocketing her war-toy and getting back to her feet.

“U-uncle Storm, you’re not making a lot of sense. Rayse is Uncle Mal’s nephew, and he left him behind in Ettermire when he got me out. I only met him once before, when his people grabbed me when I was out exploring and brought me back to Knife’s Edge. I don’t remember getting there, I just woke up in a big safe and couldn’t get out. One of the things in there - it looked like a gross eyeball, I think - sent me to Ettermire, and then I got thrown in jail, and then his nephew came with soldiers to take me to Salvar. And then we got chased a lot by elves. I told you, remember? I know you don’t believe me, but it’s true. And mom doesn’t even like Uncle Mal, so I don’t know what you mean by she kicked him out.”

The child took a couple of deep breaths before continuing. “And...and mom told me that she’d told you that you could come back if you wanted to be part of our family. But you didn’t come back.” She blinked rapidly. “So I thought you didn’t like us anymore because I was difficult with you in Radasanth. I’m still in trouble for that day. And we’re both really sad that you don’t want to be part of the family.”

Her voice cracked a little, and she cleared her throat. She’d addressed Storm’s rant, so now it was time for introductions. “Kryos, this is my Uncle Storm and my Uncle Mal. They aren’t really my uncles, but that’s what it’s easy to call them. Uncle Storm, Uncle Mal, this is Kryos. I met him earlier this afternoon.”

Kryos glared silver anger down at her. “You told me they-”

“They are,” she interrupted earnestly. “They’re just… also my uncles.”

Taische fidgeted her hands, trying to figure out exactly where to start her story. “Okay. Yesterday, my mom found some friends in a town just outside of Radasanth. She needed to go deal with a camp of goblin slavers in Concordia, so her friends agreed to watch me for a few days while she did that. They have a son who just turned twelve, and a lot of animals, so they thought I’d maybe make a friend and be helpful. Mom told me to stay there, and I was really, really going to. I didn’t want to be in even more trouble, and besides, I got to feed the chickens and the bunnies and the goats. But not the pigs or the donkey.”

The little girl rubbed the back of her skull, less at a memory and more at a still swollen goose egg. “But the boy was really mean. He hit me over the head with a shovel when we were cleaning poop out of the barn, and he punched me a couple of times when his parents weren’t looking. I told him to stop and that’s not how girls make friends, but he didn’t stop. When I told his parents, they said farm kids just play rough and he didn’t mean it. So the next day, I did chores on the other side of the farm from him and since we were done with before lunch chores almost an hour before lunch, I started playing with a puppy in a field.”

She looked up at the three men. “I wasn’t doing anything to bother the boy, I was just playing with the puppy. But he came over, and he looked mad, and so I picked the puppy up, and he kicked me and the puppy. And then I got really, really mad, and I started punching him. He punched back a little bit, but he was never really taught to fight like my mom taught me, so after a little while he started crying and ran off to his mother. She called me a nasty little child and locked me in the guest room, and told me not to come out until my mom came back. Then she made all sorts of fuss over her ‘innocent little angel,’ and didn’t punish him at all.”

Taische scowled, folding her arms over her still slightly tender ribs. “He started it, and I tried to handle it peacefully, and then that happened. If his mom had told him to stay in his room too, then I would have just taken the punishment, even if I wasn’t happy about it. But it wasn’t fair, not at all, so I packed my stuff and left out the window. I’d rather be in trouble with Mom for a good reason than in trouble with a stranger for a bad reason. I even got a lunch box in town so that I could keep walking until it was too dark, and then eat, so I could get to her faster.”

She motioned back to her companion. “I met Kryos on the road. He was walking toward Underwood, and I’m walking toward Underwood, so we were walking toward Underwood at the same time. I shared a cookie, and we started walking together. It’s safer to travel in groups, because most of the people who pick on little girls on their own are too scared if they’re with a man - some people even picked on me and my mom who wouldn’t have done it if Uncle Storm was with us,” she explained to Kryos. “That didn’t go very well for them, because my mom is really strong. And some of the people who pick on grown men on their own would feel bad if they tried to pick on a little girl, too. And of course, some people just don’t care who they pick on.”

Taische took a deep breath, shoving her hair out of her face again. “I didn’t even know I had uncles anywhere near here. I didn’t even know you were friends. And when we saw you, I didn’t want to get in MORE trouble even before I got back to Mom, so we tried to sneak away. I didn’t think you would chase us because Uncle Mal never liked us and I thought you don’t like us anymore either, Uncle Storm.”

“But then you did chase us, and all of a sudden the tree exploded and I got really scared, because the last time I got chased, Vincent got killed.” Taische blinked rapidly again, fighting through a tight throat. “So I thought that I could get Kryos to safety and maybe you’d just yell at me, because you didn’t have a reason to be mad at Kryos. And then Uncle Mal grabbed me from out of nowhere and I got even more scared and you went after Kryos, and I thought we were both going to die. And I just didn’t want anyone to die.”

The little girl looked at the three men through the night’s gloom. She was tired. She was hungry. She was hurting, and one of the main adult influences in her life hated her now. “I just… I just want my mom.”

Goddess almighty... she just keeps going and going...

Every time it looked like she was about to stop, another torrent of words erupted from her thin frame. It was enough to drive men mad, and Storm looked like he was ready to burst. His face was turning red, and it looked like every ounce of willpower in his body was keeping him from yelling at her. Rayse didn't know exactly what happened between Karuka and Storm, but it's clear that one, or perhaps both of them, had some misconceptions. No matter what they did, it always lead back to Karuka. In her attempts to protect Taische, she was hurting other people. Even now, this story about some farm? It was like Karuka was trying to pick up the life she left off, going off to be miss vigilante. But it wasn't that easy. Rayse was getting a headache thinking about this.

"Alright, alright, we get it," Rayse said. "No more fighting." Storm was now glaring at him, probably because of that peculiar story about a nephew named Rayse. Storm obviously didn't buy it for a minute, and if Rayse didn't clear the air here and now, he was going to lose the magician's trust.

Rayse put his hands into his pockets again, and glanced at Kryos. He wanted to punch his face until it resembled a sun-dried tomato. He couldn't hide the enmity he held for the man, but for now he was putting it aside.

"Kryos, was it? Hold your tongue for a bit. I need to sort something out." He then looked at Storm. "I want to explain something, before we move on here." He walked between all of them like a mediator, then turned and looked at Storm. "Do you believe in time travel?"

Storm blinked. "What?"

"This is an important question for what I'm about to say."

"As a mage, I'm not going to discount it outside the realm of possibility, but you better be going somewhere with this."

"I am, don't worry. I'm going to go through chronologically what exactly happened between me and Taische. Why I know her." He glanced at Taische. "Keep quiet until I'm done. I'll be brief." It occurred to him that he lost his cigarette at some point. Maybe it was during that bubble fiasco. Either way, he pulled out another one, stuck it into his mouth, and lit it with a flame on the tip of his thumb.

"Over ten years ago, I was on a mission in Ettermire, but we got ambushed and fled into the city. We ran for a while, a friend of mine got killed, and then Taische got whisked away by some fiery, teleporting asshole. I didn't see her again until a little while ago, when she was unceremoniously dumped in my lap."

The speaker took a drag off the cigarette. He gave each of his audience a glare that warned them not to interrupt before continuing. "You see, at the time I was having a... business dispute with a woman named Karuka, and my agents thought it would be a good idea to kidnap the kid and hold her as collateral for a deal. I would never do such a thing, so I wanted to return her as fast as possible.”

He talked about the artifact, and how it sent Taische back into the past. Storm looked unconvinced, but he could feel the strain in Rayse’s words, the sound of a man who didn’t want to talk about something.

Rayse continued, “I followed her using the same artifact and eventually found her, becoming said fiery asshole. I didn't realize where or when I was until I got back. Then, I returned her to her mother, and that was the end of it. At the time, I didn't think the kid would believe what actually happened, in fact..."

He looked at Taische. "Maybe you still don't? Look at me, I'm the same person as back then. My name is Rayse. I remember everything: the elf in the dark, the tenement, the courthouse, my friend's dying words. I said you would slow us down, and I was right. But I don't blame you. Because it was Vincent's call, and I respect it. Do you want to know why I care? Because Vincent considered you his friend, and that makes you my friend as well, even if you don't feel the same way."

Following a deep, smoky exhale, he looked at Storm once more. "Satisfied?"

The magician paused for a moment, his rage subsiding. It was an incredibly implausible story, but it was an earnest attempt to keep what they had. What did they have, anyway? Friendship? Either way, it was still a half-truth. He wanted to ask if that was all Rayse wanted to reveal, but given his word choice, the answer was obvious. For whatever reason, Rayse considered his fatherhood to be a problem. Maybe in his own way, he was doing it to protect Taische.

"Good," said Rayse. Apparently, being mouthy ran in the family. "Before I'm done, I just have something to say to you, Tash." He walked over to her. If he had been her father for the past nine years, he would of slapped her for what she had done today. But he didn't believe he had the right anymore. The least he could do was give her a lecture.

"Kid, you need to stop running from your problems. Your mother trusted you to stay in one place, and you ran. Then when you saw us, you ran again. You put Kryos and Storm in danger. You need to take responsibility, not wait until you're cornered. And stop making assumptions about people. You need to look beyond the surface of someone, that's the only way you'll know whether or not you can trust them."

The fiery asshole considered whether or not to say the last part, but he didn't want to have any regrets. "You've left behind the world where you can be just a kid.” Fateless. It was a term Rayse used for those that could shape the world to their will. They were people with great abilities, whether they be physical or magical, and that power made them targets. “For the rest of your life, you need to look over your shoulder as you walk. If you can do that, then maybe I won't have anything to worry about."

Out of Character:

Bunnies discussed and approved for their fluffiness!

The anger, annoyance and impatience that lined the fair features of Kryos’ face became more and more evident as he listened. They had gone from the present, to story-time explanation, to incredibly thick and convoluted backstory in the space of a few minutes. Now, the man identified as Rayse, cigarette between his fingers, came back full circle and hopefully ended with a lecture to wrap up this giant mess. He closed his eyes in irritation; the heated discussion, if it could even be called a discussion, did nothing to alleviate the throbbing in his head. The cut on his forearm still burned as blood oozed from the wound, and his muscles persistently reminded him of their fatigue. He shook his head.

All this over a family squabble. Unbelievable.

The muddied glint of his sword caught his eye, and he proceeded to wipe the edge clean with his pant leg. Both would need cleaning before the night’s ends. Sheathing his weapon, he stepped forward.

“I am glad you all could get this overdue family reunion out of the way,” he said, voice laced with sarcasm as cold as his gaze. “But if you all have finished now, I recommend we be on our way.” Over the course of the conversation, small groups of Lounton’s residents had begun to mill about, voices whispering and eyes filled with caution, fear and wonder. Kryos expected the local authorities to arrive any time, what with the show of magic that had been screaming for attention.

Taische mumbled something. “What was that?” he growled, glaring at her downcast head.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice seemed to be on the verge of breaking. “I’m sorry for almost getting you killed.” Her hands fidgeted as she turned toward her prior guardians. “I’m sorry for making you worry about me, Uncle Mal.” Her veiled gaze settled on the soaking boots of the lightning mage. “And I’m sorry for being so bad in Radasanth.”

“Being sorry is a nice thought, but that’s all.” Kryos folded his arms, taking care for the stinging wound that would become the record of this fated evening. “True sorrow brings about action and change. Your words are not enough to make up for what has happened.”

The Dwiilar thought he could see the weight of his words settle upon the small, exhausted frame of the young girl. She stood motionless for a moment.

“... I gotta go find my mom. I’ll be alright on my own.” Her eyes remained hidden by hair and shadow, and she turned and slipped out from between the triangle of men. Her shoulders hunched into her body and she didn’t look back.

The three mages silently watched her depart. Kryos’ sigh broke the silence as he set aside his own contempt. “I’m heading the same way, and will make sure she doesn’t cause any more trouble. Don’t worry,” he cut off the protest he knew would be at the tip of Rayse’s tongue. “I’m not going to do, whatever it is you think I’m going to do.” He could tell the man despised him from the obvious expression earlier. Regardless, Kryos faced the two once more as shouting heralded the arrival of the Coronian Rangers.

“Gentlemen, I would have liked to have met under different circumstances. As it is, perhaps fate will bring us together again in the future.” He nodded his head once, which Storm returned in kind. The pyromancer’s expression, however, appeared conflicted. After a long pull from his cigarette and an equally lengthy exhale, he reluctantly dipped his head.

Without pause, Kryos spun on his heels and set to quickly recovering his equipment. Silver eyes shining with magical power, he sensed the souls of all those who gathered in the aftermath of their encounter. He dismissed most of them and instead locked in on Taische, who made her way down the riverside road. He found his small sword just as she crossed the halfway point out of his detection range. With only his pack waiting to be reclaimed from the confines of the warehouse, his thoughts drifted.

He had been right after all. For whatever reason, this small, unassuming girl who seemed to attract trouble wherever she went had the latent ability to recover his lost memories. He had pieced together that he had known another child, similar to Taische, while he fought to survive the horrors of Raiaera. The girl from his nightmares had become an important piece to his past, now that he knew she hadn’t been conjured up by his subconscious. While these revelations only brought forth more questions, the unexpected turn of events filled him with new determination.

As he strode onto the lamp-lit street, pack resting upon his back, a grin broke across his face. With any luck, the rest of their journey would be as interesting as the first day.

His aching muscles reminded him of the need for rest and recovery.

Right, he thought. Sleep first, memories second.

He jogged under the light of the town and rising moon to catch up with the young girl who stumbled under the soothing sound of swaying trees.

Apologies were never of any value to Storm Veritas. His travels in diplomacy lent him to offering plenty of them; and none of them carried more than a silvery song along a puff of air. Taische did appear to be contrite, but still understood none of the far-reaching effects of her actions, as children are wont to do. People ruined themselves in droves to protect the girl, who seemed to stagger through life without concern or thought regarding the welfare of those around her.

Today’s actions would cost Storm dearly. He was likely no closer to squaring up the grievance he held with Karuka, and couldn’t follow Taische and Kryos any further. Worse, he couldn’t stay, as his impulsive actions had led him to kill. The surrounding mob began to grow more bold, although no law enforcement had managed to muster the courage to apprehend him. He’d have to stay ahead. He lifted, cleaned, and sheathed the daggers once more, cognizant that tone likely had the blood of the dead still on it.

“Nothing here for me now, just bars and shackles. Going to move back north, get hidden in the masses.” Storm looked with an openness to Rayse, whom he had grown to trust in an abnormally quick cadence. He wouldn't wait long for a response.

“I’m going to be there soon, if you know the Wagon. They can find me. Maybe more important, that miserable redhead won’t.”

He referred of course to Radasanth as he spoke to Rayse, knowing that he needn’t formally elaborate in front of the tuned ears of strangers. Rayse’s own allusion to the “Whiskey Wagon” made clear there was more work to be performed. The tandem had found a fondness at the bottom of bottles, so the meet point should have come as no surprise. Not one for sentiment, Rayse quickly broke away. The fire mage moved with a smoothness into the crowd. He had broken no laws and wouldn’t be slowed by those that sought to question him. Valentino may have been headed north, but first the electromancer had business in the southern part of town.

Storm walked back towards the stables, feeling eyes slowly tapering closer, approaching him as he separated from the other gifted few. The night had fallen in full force, the moon lighting his walk as the air had grown cold, the discomfort magnified by his wet clothes. It was miserable, being cold, wet, and wanted. His foot had begun to ache more now; with the adrenaline washed from his veins more trivial wounds began to talk in louder voices. The left side of his face was also warm with an increased flow of blood; he ran his fingers over it and felt a new set of dimensions forming.

Yep, that’s going to bruise like a son of a bitch. Stay tall, don’t limp, and look scary. Need to get clear of towns before I hit the city, let the heat die down a bit and heal this pretty face.

He reached the stables and found four townspeople standing by the door. The oil lights suspended over their heads cast light upon furious faces, intent on bringing a form of justice that the police had yet to administer. An axe, a sledgehammer, a pitchfork and machete were held with some finite degree of menace. They had come for blood; bold townsfolk seeking vengeance for the lost life of a stranger. He had been identified, tagged by his horse.

Stopping, Storm slowly raised his outstretched and empty palms, a gesture of peace as the angry few glowered at him. He whispered in the air of the angry farmer, moving with enough deliberation to ensure he wasn't going to seem threatening.

“I am sorry for your friend; I thought the girl’s life was in danger. It was senseless, and tragic, but enough blood has been spilled today.”

The four men at the stable’s door were thoroughly unconvinced, however their metal weapons betrayed them. Turning his palms down, Storm expressed a gentle wave of energy downward, forcing the metal components down as though they had become impossibly heavy in the hands of the corn-fed farmers who had flipped such instruments about as often as a fat man wields a spoon. They were collectively stunned, bending away like long-grown grasses in the wind. As he stepped by, Storm made a point of kneeling by one of the men, pressing a dense leather coin purse into his hand. There were over one hundred gold crowns in there – half a summer’s yield. The magician didn’t say a word; he knew the small stipend wouldn’t return the fallen.

Moments later, the graying mage strode from the stables atop his massive black horse. Attila was ready to run, but was only met with the angry, frustrated glares of men that wouldn’t get their pound of flesh.

I know. I’ve fought enough of these to know that battles are necessary evils, but evils nonetheless. If it makes you feel better, I lost, too. We all did.

The dead quiet of night following a furious day was broken only by echoing clip-clops of hooves upon cobblestones and angry whispers.

THE END

I wanted to take a moment to thank you all for posting a great example of solid writing in a short timeframe. You told a fun story, with some moments that literally had me laughing out loud while reading. I don’t want to make you wait anymore, though, so onto the judgment!

Taische
Plot 24/30
Story - 8/10
Taische’s part in the story actually adds to the overall feel of the thread, but does so by being entirely natural to her adolescence. That isn’t an easy thing to do, but you accomplished it pretty well. No moment of her part of the story feels contrived, except the whole tavern bit. It felt off, and a bit too illogical. Still, you played it off well. I did like the twists along the way of her tantrum, and pulling Uncle Storm and Kryos from the river. They worked well.
Setting - 8/10
You utilized various parts of the setting, and turned it from just a backdrop to the scene of this story. What makes it better is how you also utilized the environment, especially the maneuver where Taische manipulates the ground to allow Kryos into the building and then closes it behind him to protect him. Very clever, and I liked it.
Pacing - 8/10
The only thing I will say related to pacing is the one place I felt things lose me as a reader a little, and that was the battle between Storm and Kryos. I’m unsure if it was due to the change in posting order or how it separated the pairs, but I didn’t exactly like it. I just didn’t hate it either. That’s what hurt you here, as it hurt everyone equally.

Character 22/30
Communication - 7/10
At times in reading her dialogue aloud, I got the adolescent vibe. Especially when she told her Uncles and Kryros to stop fighting. With that said, however, she came across as too forceful a character in this thread to the point of being almost unbelievably settled for a kid in her dialogue. Perhaps that is because she has been there before, but it made reading her aloud feel a bit disconcerting almost. When she was apologizing, as a reader I would’ve really bought into it more if there’d been some deliberate stumbling through her apology via stuttering or stammering.
Action - 7/10
While nothing she did felt out of place for her character, per say, there was a moment early on where I could’ve used a bit more Taische -- in the tavern. Something, anything, where she hits that moment of innocent curiosity of a kid, would’ve made sense and really highlighted her adolescence compared to the others. I did like the bit between her and Rayse, and her flame “attack”. It worked well enough.
Persona - 8/10
Look, by now you’ve heard it over and over, but you write Taische very well. She is a fun character to read because she isn’t flat, and has tons of wiggle room for development. The apologies were a decently written example of her flexibility and growth, and I really like how it all ultimately played out. As I pointed out in the above examples in Action and Dialogue, you just missed the mark a little with being a bit too forceful at times, and then not forceful enough at others. Being an adolescent, she has to strike a very delicate balance, and I know it is tough to do. Keep it up though, I love her to death.

Prose 23/30
Mechanics - 8/10
So this is where you will always shine as a writer. You are meticulous in your mechanics, to the point of being nitpicky of yourself and others. However, I did find a couple of noticeable mistakes, but only the nitpicky ones, such as a tense that doesn’t match up, or a improper word usage. “Unconsciously, the child’s posture responded to the adult’s…” in the 19th post of the thread is the most glaring, thus the 8.
Clarity - 8/10
Taische is pretty clear, and you write her pretty clearly. Things made sense for the most part, and nothing felt totally out of line. The only times that did feel out of sorts, or I as the reader felt a bit lost were noted previously, so just look out of for those things and you’ll be great.
Technique - 7/10
You have a pretty solid focus on your mechanics, and hey it works. The only problem is I don’t necessarily perceive anything extraordinary from a technique standpoint, and to be frank I’m not sure your writing needs an excess amount of it. As noted in dialogue, a pregnant pause, some stammering or stuttering, something more there as a dialogue technique would’ve put Taische over for me. Still, it was good use of technique, just not as good as it could be.

Wildcard 9/10
The Wildcard category for the sake of the LCC is being handled thusly, for every 24 hour delay in reply from the time an opponent posts 1 point is deducted from wildcard. This is to encourage frequent posting in the two week deadline so that hopefully more threads can conclude properly. This was far less an issue for your foursome, and I am not surprised.

Total 78/100

Kryos
Plot 23/30
Story - 8/10
The four of you wove an impressive story over a reasonable length for a complete story, and this is what this was, a complete story. It reads well, and flows well. At times, as noted in comments to Taische, some of the momentum is lost, or some of the parts felt a bit contrived. Still, for a thread this length considering the deadline and pressure, I applaud you.
Setting - 7/10
Whereas I felt Taische played off the setting pretty well, I did feel like you didn’t play off it quite enough. I absolutely loved the note on the crates in the warehouse with the double C’s, that was quite a nice tidbit. I’d like to ultimately see more utilization of the setting, but overall you did enough to make it feel alive. Unfortunately, it just needs to be a bit more vibrant.
Pacing - 8/10
The thread flows from one scene to the next at a relatively comfortable pace once the tavern scene concludes, which I might add concluded rather abruptly. In a way, it was necessary, so I didn’t dock points for the abruptness. Like I mentioned for Taische, the pacing of the fight scene, and the change in posting order, just disrupted the flow too much for me. The pairings seemed to drag just a hair too long.

Character 20/30
Communication - 7/10
When Kryos spoke dialogue until your final post, it was abrupt and as minimal as possible, which I do imagine is by intention. You hinted a bit at his nature with the early comment on how he’d rather camp in the woods than stay at the inn. What didn’t sit well with me in reading Kryos’ thoughts, especially in the 25th post of the thread, is his internal comment on Storm’s lightning. “He uses lightning,” while a perfectly acceptable line, just doesn’t convey any emotion whatsoever, especially when it follows, “Air! I need air!” The realization of Storm’s electricity feels like it needed something more. It felt a bit flat. Even more if I read your next post in succession. The dialogue there, and thoughts, feel almost totally different to the ones in the 25th post. Just wanted to note that.
Action - 7/10
Due to some clarity issues specific to the action and maneuvers in the fight with Storm, which I will highlight more specifically in clarity, I had to dock you a few points here. The fight, though it was certainly necessary, just felt too rushed considering the magnitude of what the two were essentially fighting over.
Persona - 6/10
Through most of the thread, I gathered Kryos as a lone wolf of sorts (pun intended) who is rather insular by nature. By the end of the thread, however, I began to question that assessment. I haven’t, admittedly, read as much of Kryos as I’d have liked prior to this thread, but the early Kryos and late Kryos within this single thread felt almost disconnected. In a way, it felt like a lightswitch was flipped between the 25th post and the 29th post of the thread, wherein Kryos becomes King of Sarcasm. I liked the sarcasm, I just wish it had come out more in his various bits of dialogue and thoughts earlier.

Prose 21/30
Mechanics - 7/10
There were a few specific places where your verb tense struggled, or your word choice failed you. Altogether, however, you presented a very solid piece. Unfortunately, the scale used for mechanics in this tournament is very high, as should be noted by the 8 Taische got for very few actual mechanical errors. One instance caught my attention and caused me to re-read the statement, “to the sword placed over lower back.” A simple pronoun here, such as ‘his lower back’ would have made the statement flow much smoother.
Clarity - 6/10
As I stated above, what hurt you the most was the maneuvers in the battle with Storm. At times they left me scratching my head. Specifically, this pair of lines really left me trying to figure out the reference for the pronouns, “From how the man used his abilities, Kryos knew that he had more experience at combat. Thanks to the unknown gods, as well as his physical ability, he had managed to remain mostly unscathed.” I’m guessing Kryos knew Storm had more experience, but is Kryos also indicating Storm remained mostly unscathed or himself? It left me reading a couple of extra times to figure it out, and without enough context clues to go off, I landed upon the narrator is referring to Kryos in the second line and Storm in the first. You can see how the clarity issue becomes a deeper and deeper rabbit hole rather quickly.
Technique - 8/10
You did some really nice things with your technique. I liked the few times you utilized the ellipses to full pregnant pause effet. I also liked how you used simile to rather dramatic effect in 25th post, “Like a wave of the ocean building in height before crashing on sand beaches.” I also really liked your use of the flashback, and also of the foreshadowing there. It was well done, and not overbearing. You hit just a tiny bit more technique than I noted for Taische, thus the slightly higher score there.

Wildcard 8/10
Please see Taische’s comments on how wildcard is being utilized for this tournament.

Total 72/100

Storm Veritas
Plot 24/30
Story - 8/10
The story wove nicely through each part. I loved the amount of backstory littered throughout the entire thread, and in respect specifically to Storm himself. As noted with both Taische and Kryos, the story told felt complete. The tavern scene didn’t sit well as a reader, and as noted below in clarity, the fight ended a bit flat.
Setting - 8/10
The moment that put you over in your use of setting was when Storm dismantled the townsperson without so much as a blink of an eye, and just continued on. Your use of the parapet was a nice touch, and Storm’s return to the stables helped tie the entire scene together rather nicely.
Pacing - 8/10
As I noted for Taische and Kryos, pacing for all four of you primarily focused on the fight scene and the change in posting order. It felt abrupt, and just didn’t work for me. There was also the ending to the tavern scene, which unfortunately felt too quick and didn’t quite sit right as a reader. I’m just not sure the tavern scene could have been handled much differently to make it better, so in this instance, as with both Kryos and Taische, I did not deduct points for the tavern scene, only the fight.

Character 22/30
Communication - 8/10
You know Storm. You’ve written him for years, and have a pretty firm grasp of who he is. It showed in this thread, especially in how he viewed Taische both in internal and external dialogue. Storm’s internal dialogue was some of the best, in my opinion, especially the more frustrated he grew with Taische’s perceived “antics”.
Action - 6/10
As noted for Kryos, most of the issues with action resulted from clarity confusion. Specifically, the maneuvers in the fight tend to get a bit lost with how they were written, and this lead to the heavy point deduction. Still, outside of the fight, for the most part, Storm’s actions feel “Storm-y” and otherwise never deter from the character.
Persona - 8/10
Storm is a wealth of character at times in the thread, and at others he retreats a bit into his lone wolf assassin self. There was subtle character development in Storm, and I had to reward you for that somewhere. As a reader, I also genuinely loved the moment Storm reached his breaking point with Taische, and it served the thread very well.

Prose 20/30
Mechanics - 7/10
Your mechanics while not perfect, were quite close. In my comments to Taische and Kryos, I noted the bar was set exceptionally high by Flames in one of the other threads, and so all of you felt a bit of that as a result. One example to highlight a mechanics flaw, “It was miserable, being cold, wet, and wanted.” The comma after miserable is unwarranted, even for dramatic pause effect. Pretty much all of your mechanical errors were like that, placed for dramatic effect but unwarranted from a necessity standpoint as a reader.
Clarity - 6/10
Your big deduction here comes from the fight with Kryos, but specifically with the following maneuver descriptions. “With tremendous speed, Storm crashed a shoulder into the chest of the would-be kidnapper, wrapping his arm around the man’s lifting and running, lifting, arching his back with all his might.” Note the clarity concerns begin with Storm wrapping his arm around Kryos’, which was clear. The remainder of the maneuvers were not so much. Was Storm lifting and running, then lifting, then arching his own back? Was Kryos’ arms lifting and running? In general, the line lost me and forced a re-read multiple times, and it actually was enough to make the ending to the fight fall a bit flat.
Technique - 7/10
There was nothing exceptional in your technique, and yet there was nothing you attempted where you failed technically either. Much like with Taische, I’m not sure more use of technique would’ve really been a big boon to the overall feel of the thread, but what you did use worked well. Again, you suffered here on the Flames scale of technique.

Wildcard 10/10
For the wildcard, please see comments to Taische on how wildcard is being utilized for this tournament.

Total 76/100

Rayse Valentino
Plot 22/30
Story - 7/10
Rayse’s individual story actually blossoms a bit in this thread, and you wove it quite well. I’ll have more comments later on in this judgment related to the character, but this was a job well done. As I noted for the others, the tavern scene didn’t sit well as a reader, and especially with the move Rayse did to draw attention. It just didn’t feel quite natural to the scene unfolding, perhaps mostly in the patrons reaction. I did deduct you an extra point for that specific moment, but other than that you were right on par with the rest of the group.
Setting - 7/10
Your use of setting was a bit lackluster. You painted plenty of pictures, special note for the daydream setting which I did enjoy, but they were mostly just tapestries as opposed to scenes. You tended toward including nuanced notes hinting at the setting and atmosphere, and as a reader I just needed more of it included. “An earthy scene permeated the area, the hard work of people wafting in the air,” is a great line and highlights the subtle hints you made at the setting. Some of your other posts, however, read as though they could have taken place on a theater stage, devoid of the world in which they took place.
Pacing - 8/10
As I noted for the others, the pace of this entire thread is pretty solid overall. However, the tavern scene’s abrupt end, and the confusion with the fight scene, are worth pointing out. All four of you each had a part to play in the pacing, and thus the same score for all.

Character 25/30
Communication - 9/10
Rayse has always been a character that as a reader I found hard to connect with, at least until now. The Rayse presented grows so much through this thread, and the internal dialogue shows a lot of that depth forming over the entire story. Frankly, this might be one of your best pieces exclusive to the character side of things. My favorite line, “Either way, he just shanked someone in the middle of the street. Even Rayse wasn't that audacious.” I actually laughed at that final bit of self-realization by Rayse.
Action - 7/10
Throughout the growth of Rayse, most everything he did felt right on par with what I’d come to know of the character. From the need for a cigarette at the height of stress to the little sparks of fire interwoven into the story, you pretty well nailed it. The only time you strayed was with the NPCs collective responses in the tavern. Perhaps any sort of actual response in that moment from them beyond just shock, awe, or fear, would’ve put you over. Otherwise, you did quite well.
Persona - 9/10
As noted in communication, you stretched the depths of Rayse as a character to places I didn’t really perceive you ever reaching. Not because I didn’t think you could, but because of what I’d read you never really tried for it. At least not to this magnitude. I’m exceedingly awestruck by your growth in writing Rayse over the past few months, and I hope you will continue to stretch the character just that much farther.

Prose 20/30
Mechanics - 7/10
For the most part, your mechanics were sound. There were a few places you slipped a bit, but I want to point specifically at the paragraph in post 12 where Rayse’s experience with the girl under mind control is brought to light. Your use of commas, while admirable, is also excessive. Ultimately, you ended up with giant run-ons that lose a bit of their impact by jumbling them all together. With this, it would have been better to separate them into more concrete statements, and let each of them stand more on their own.
Clarity - 6/10
There were a couple of spots where due to a mechanical miss, such as a typo or extra word, a line didn’t quite make as much sense as it should. “I don't know if this is normal where you're from, but around here you grown men don't just team up with little girls.” He is speaking to Taische here, and so the ‘you’ is confusing and out of place. There was also an incorrect word usage, “He put his hands in his pants pockets to try to look as undiscriminating as possible, although nothing could betray the coldness in his eyes.” I am certain you intended to use indiscriminating. Then there were these two lines in succession in post 24, ““With only seconds to spare, he retrieved it and tried to shove it into the bubble, but the air being pushed out was also keeping his weapon out. He had to stab into it with force.

With only seconds left, his was starting to lose his balance.” By having both using of “With only seconds”, the lines lose a bit of oomph.
Technique - 7/10
The big deduction here comes from a rather hit or miss usage of future Rayse as the narrator. At times, it becomes not only confusing, but also a bit jarring as a reader. ‘"What do I want?" Why. He wanted to know why. Right?’ While it is certainly artistic, this line in particular would have held more impact as an internal thought, which you expressed pretty well throughout using italics, and also reworded slightly.

Wildcard 10/10
See the comments to Taische about how wildcard is being utilized for this tournament.

Total 77/100

Winners Unreasonable Gentlemen!

Taische receives 1000 EXP and 105 GP
Kryos receives 1000 EXP and 105 GP

Storm Veritas receives 4065 EXP and 125 GP
Rayse Valentino receives 4065 EXP and 110 GP

All EXP and GP have been added!