AC 2021 Round One: Team One

Round one will begin at 6pm EST on 3rd December 2021.

Team 1

1. Shinsou Vaan Osiris (C)
2. Celandine
3. Umbra

Challenges for Round 1:

Your group is heading to Alerar, making their way to these newly discovered ruins. The purpose is up to you, as well as how you interact with the environment (to include factions of the Alerar Guilds, Alerar Army, Tular Plains Demons, or Northern Alerar Dwarves). The following challenges are for use in the thread, and you must include at least one but can incorporate as much as you would like beyond that (it does reflect in the Wild Card and Story section)

• Challenge 1: Interact with at least one faction, either as an ally or enemy - or create your own and that faction must interact with the others somehow
• Challenge 2: Overcome one “political” obstacle
• Challenge 3: Due to the hurried nature of everyone scrambling to get to the new discovery, your characters are not fully stocked/prepared in some way

Quote:

---

All bunnied dialogue and non-combat action approved and written by source material owners.

---

“Mr Osiris?”

The voice sliced through Shinsou Vaan Osiris’s daydream, returning him swiftly from the land beyond his window back to the reality of his office. The sound of a low cough echoed around the freshly painted room, quickly accompanied by one of the three-strong Radasanthian delegation on the opposite side of his desk clearing her throat.

A brief expression of annoyance flashed over his face at the interruption; it had been too long since the sound of iron horseshoes rattled upon the Whitevale cobblestones. He liked listening to it every day to be reminded that despite Arius Mephisto’s best efforts, the little piece of his world called the Brotherhood was still here, and he didn't appreciate the interruption of his moment.

“Hmm?”

Shinsou’s golden eyes surveyed each one of the faces, as if they had entered the room for the first time. Next to the diplomats, Philomel van der Aart sat patiently. She rested her chin on her hand, studying her friend closely as the gathered waited for The Telgradian to answer their question.

“I asked if you have had time to consider our request, Mr Osiris?” The young brunette repeated, squinting through her thin-rimmed spectacles at Shinsou as he casually dragged a chair out from underneath his desk, and sat in front of the window. She could see he hadn’t, as the papers she had brought with her and placed in front of the Assembly's former enemy remained inexplicably untouched. What she didn't know was that Shinsou already knew what it contained.

“Let’s not kid ourselves, ladies and gentlemen, this is no request. Right?” The Telgradian took a long look at the package she had placed on his desk. “Nothing that the Assembly sends in one of these envelopes contains anything that is ‘optional’.”

The parchment was still sealed with scarlet wax, the crest of the Assembly of Corone embedded deeply into it. The clean shaven, close-cut man next to the female delegate shrugged, and leaned over the desk, clasping his hands together. His pressed finery and deliberate manner told of the aristocracy of the Radasanthian government. His eyes met Shinsou's; a knowing glint barely detectable.

“Philomel said you liked to be direct.” The man paused, tapping the envelope, “Well, the Brotherhood owes Corone a debt after the stunt it pulled a couple of years ago. The so-called Siege of Radasanth weighs heavily on our memories. Out of respect for you, and advising against our better judgment, Philomel has vouched for you and your Brotherhood. This – let’s call it a ‘suggestion’ - will go some way to settling the tab with the Assembly.”

Shinsou’s eyes looked up at the Faun, who didn’t for one moment break her gaze away from him. Instead, Philomel shrugged. The feelings were still there; a mutual tension, an admiration still lingering under the surface. But, that being so, even those feelings did not prevent Philomel from doing the right thing when the Brotherhood had attacked Radasanth on his and Storm Veritas’s command. She had stepped up, and had been the first to oppose him. She had engaged him directly in the city. She had been the one who…

“Shinsou?”

The Faun’s voice pulled him back to reality. Shinsou’s eyes peeled down towards the unopened package. Carefully, he placed it between finger and thumb, and cut away the seal with a quick swipe of a nearby paper knife before unfolding the note in front of him. His face crumpled into a forced frown as those irises followed each line of spidery handwriting to its conclusion.

“Fucking hell…” The Telgradian's response was convincing, containing just the right blend of surprise and exclamation.

“Fucking hell, indeed,” the well-groomed gentleman replied at length. “What I’m about to tell you is a state secret. It seems a group of Aleraran archeologists working at an excavation site out in the fringes of the country uncovered an ancient tomb of some sort. That isn’t important to us – what is important is what they found inside. The Alerarans are keeping tight-lipped about it, but from what we’ve heard from our source inside their interior ministry, this artifact is of great significance to the demons. So much so that they invaded Alerar.”

A moment passed before the Telgradian spoke again. His eyes washed around the room, at each of the faces in front of him, and then back to the desk. Everyone had reactions, no matter how small, but the most telling would be his own. It had to be right. “Invaded? What? I don’t get it. The Alerarans surely wouldn’t just let Tular march up to their gates unopposed?" The tapping of fingers on the polished wooden surface accompanied Shinsou’s observations as he settled into a slight slouch. “How did this happen?”

“That’s the thing,” the politician replied diffidently, a small smile playing about his lips. “They appeared from inside the country, apparently from the tomb, although that isn’t confirmed. There were no skirmishes on the borders at all. Took them, and everyone else, completely by surprise. So, the whole region is sat on top of a tinderbox. No-one knows how the demons got inside Alerar, and the dwarves are getting very nervous about their intentions further afield. We believe it’s only a matter of time before they take matters into their own hands.”

The third gentleman, who hadn’t yet spoken, now sat up to punctuate this conversation with his own thoughts. “Protecting their interests will inevitably be at the forefront of their minds, too, and those might not align with Alerar’s, or even our own. We’re expecting the dwarves to try and negotiate a coalition-backed counterattack of their own, but there are so many issues at play here.”

Shinsou frowned as the situation the other nations faced dawned on him. The warrior sat back now, his chiselled features wracked in thought as he re-read the note, before his eyes sank back to the delegation. Their deep red clothing stood out starkly against the white and earthly tones of his surroundings, aggravating his OCD.

"I think it is safe to assume that this is an absolute clusterfuck, politically and militarily. As for me, these orders, because that’s what they are, require me to provide...security? For Celandine van der Aart, of all people?” Shinsou now addressed Philomel directly, tapping his fingers on his desk as he raised his eyebrows at the Faun. “What’s the thinking here, Phi, sending your kid into the heart of all this shit? Why not go yourself? You’re plenty strong enough to handle yourself out there.”

“We’ve agreed to travel to an unoccupied part of Alerar and hold an emergency congress of nations with the dark elves and the dwarves." The suited man interrupted, dragging his voice through a long sigh.

Shinsou noted the interruption with some distaste.

“I’m sorry,” The Telgradian interrupted, pointing at the Faun, “I was talking to her. When I want you to speak, I’ll let you know. Why Celandine, Phi?”

“And, if you let me finish,” The suited man continued, speaking over the Telgradian, “"Philomel van der Aart is a close friend of the Assembly, and suggested that Celandine go in her stead. Her daughter is something of a learned scholar, and is well respected in this line of work. As you are so fond of saying, ‘there is no better security than you’.”

There was a long pause. Philomel’s suggestive gaze and her silence told more of the story to Shinsou than any words could have done. She had not always wanted Celandine to travel the world, because her daughter’s safety was the most important thing in her world. But, the kid was smart, a real future player in Corone’s diplomatic game, and an intensely quick learner. Philomel seemed to have relented. But, while all this was well and good, Celandine was not a natural fighter. She needed protection; a guardian to watch over her whilst she tried in vain to fix problems of someone else’s making, and it looked as if Philomel had insisted on Shinsou for a reason.

She trusts me with her kid. I don’t understand why Phi can’t go. Hell, she SHOULD go. This situation's going to get messier than I would have liked.

“I have a couple of conditions.” The Telgradian stipulated, fanning the papers in front of his face before slapping them on the table. “Firstly, I want full pardons for myself, Storm Veritas and any and all associates of the Brotherhood for the Siege of Radasanth. I don’t want to hear it fucking mentioned ever again.”

“We’ll see what we can do.” Came the trite, predictable and not particularly encouraging response from the suited male politico. The two men both knew it was a non-starter, but appearances had to be kept.

“Also,” Shinsou continued, “No surprises. You brief me in full, and keep me informed at all times.. I don’t want to hear ‘top secret’ this or ‘classified that’. I can’t protect you if you don’t give me the facts.”

“…fine, then.” The nameless man seemed far too guarded now. He even took the time to consider what should have been a simple reply for long moments more than necessary. Shinsou noted the response. “Is that all?”

The Telgradian clicked his tongue. The Radasanthian politician felt another stipulation coming.

“Leave Storm out of this.”

“But…?” The man was clearly not expecting this, and reeled slightly at the mention of it. Shinsou noted it was the first real reaction to his demands that he had made, but whether anyone else in the room had noticed or not was a different matter.

“I said, leave him.” The Telgradian’s visage noticeably sharpened. The occupants of the room knew that his concern over his best friend’s health was an ever present feature these days. No matter how much Storm argued otherwise, the campaign against Arius and the electromancer’s unpleasant excursion to Raiaera had taken their toll. Shinsou had similarly been thrown headlong into Alerar by the evil wizard a year ago and, knowing what had befallen him, appeared to everyone to not wish to burden him further. At least, that's what he wanted everyone else to think.

“Fine.”

The mere exclusion of Storm Veritas from proceedings noticeably stalled the conversation. The delegation wanted to be the one to broach it further, but Shinsou’s blatant refusal to consider it forced the silence to grow until it engulfed them like a voracious maw.

The finely dressed man reached over the desk with an outstretched hand, noting that Shinsou Vaan Osiris had developed a fiercely stubborn streak in the years since the Siege. No doubt the Telgradian sensed the tension and perhaps the anger that dwelt inside of him and every other Radasanthian towards the Brotherhood, and justly feared getting too close to the Assembly. Rumours whispered that they were still thirsting for the dissolution of Whitevale, and ever since Arius, Osiris had been careful about picking his friends.

“I’ll make arrangements for our travel to Alerar out of Tylmerande, and inform you once the itinerary is complete.” With a smile that cloaked mistrust and resentment, Shinsou stood up to join hands with his counterpart, turning his head at last to the Faun. “Philomel, would you be kind enough to fetch Celandine in?”

The delegates bowed their heads in turn, and the suited man gave one final look at Shinsou Vaan Osiris. The Telgradian came across as arrogant, but there was something different about him from the days of the Siege. He held a certain composure that a younger, less level headed Osiris wouldn’t have done.

“We’d do well to get gone by sunset tomorrow. It’s a long journey. That means, of course, that we’ve got plenty of time to brief you on the gory details.”

Shinsou smiled falsely as they filed out of the room. Left with his thoughts, and the sounds of the mounted guards on drill in the square outside, the Telgradian looked once again out of the window and waited for Celandine van der Aart.

Bored. Boredom. She could not sit still.

Rocking too and fro off the wall outside was a young woman, her expression devoutly bored, with her hands tucked behind her and fingers pushing her away from the panelling, and then gravity bringing her back down to allow her fingers to push again, and swing and bounce, bounce, bounce.

She was dressed almost entirely in knitted garments. A rough spun skirt and a large woollen jumper were coupled with a bright rainbow scarf that almost trailed to the floor. Slung over her shoulder was a simple leather satchel, laden though heavily as if containing a weight akin to rocks - however, the small whisps of floss poking from under the flap told another story. Her legs themselves were furred and ending in small cloven hooves and the tiny nubs of horns nestled in her messy hair. Also amongst the hair was curled two ornate knitting needles, stopping any stray locks from cascading across her face.

"Hello," she said relatively cheerily to the guard, again, who stood opposite her outside the door. She attempted to share another smile. He just grunted and continued to not look at her.

"You know we could be having a conversation," she suggested, watching his jaw tighten in growing irritation. "Instead of just standing here. Bored."

She rocked back and forth silently for a moment longer. "You could tell me your name at least. How did you get to be a guard for a person like her? You're what - young and human, so fairly standard. Probably found as a loyal soldier in the army, wanted a change of career and offered a good pay ..."

He scoffed. Which told her she was right. Her eyes gleamed with intelligence and glee.

"You probably thought you'd end up travelling the world. Not just standing outside of a door all day talking to random fauns who you try to pretend to ignore but actually they're annoying you so much that you'd prefer to," she bounced more powerfully this time, holding her position for a moment, grinning at him. "Growl at them?"

Suddenly his green eyes snapped to hers. Celandine stuck her tongue between her teeth, knowing she had teased him perhaps a little too much. Cheeks going a little red she opted for a smile just in that moment, trying to show her tenderheartedness, and not boredom. Her mother had been hailed upon by the Assembly of Corone, and for some reason that meant Celandine had to come too. Not that her general travels took her amongst her mother's people often - in fact the young scholar deliberately made a point to avoid the usual brothels and safe houses these days. Yet the significance of this meeting was apparently not to be denied, and Philomel van der Aart, saviour of Radasanth, Matriarch and arch-druidess had insisted that her eldest child come along.

And then had told her to wait.

"You should be commended for your loyalty. Just standing there all day must get boring. You're teased all the time, right? Thought invisible, ignored. Just regarded as a prop sometimes, ordered about as if you're nobody special. Must be-"

Suddenly the door swung open with a creak. The view inside, of the wooden desk, the myriad of people, the pale light streaming in from the window caught her off guard for a moment. Then a soft voice called.

"Celandine," her mother said gently, "come in."

Regarding the guard one last time with a nod the young woman stepped into the room. Briefly she looked to Shinsou Vaan Osiris - a man who was more legend than anything - before the door closed behind her. Then she was in the centre of the room, and the elegant figure of Philomel was standing up, taking a single hoofstep to gain closer to her daughter.

"Dear," she said, using a term she really rarely did. But there was a genuine look of patience and kindness in her eyes. "You know I have work here that I must commit to. But the Assembly - the world, really, has use of a diplomat and I want you to go in my stead."

Celandine blinked. "You what now?"

"Here," the woman - the actual dignitary - said with a sigh as if explaining the situation over and over again was becoming irritating. A piece of paper was slid across the desk. Gently, extravagantly, Philomel picked it up with pale fingers and held it out.

And thus, Celandine began to read.

---

A fair wind blew: a gentle breeze with a snide bite of chill, that picked at exposed noses and brought the stink of fish from the harbour. With her scarf wrapped fully around her neck and up to her lips she gazed out at the empty sea before them, an uncompromising cloud upon the horizon. Sucking in a long, cold weather breath Celandine gripped her gloved fingers tight around the balustrade of the prow of the ship and prepared herself for their committed journey.

Tylmerande was spread out in its recovering finery behind them, a city decimated during the war during the Brotherhood's attempt for a power seize. Now it was a partial republic - an independent city state wherein the Brotherhood still had some influence. It was a strangely apt place to set sail from one this diplomatic mission, which would see the daughter of the hero of Radasanth and one of the perpetrators of the war coming together as a representation of peace.

Looking back over her shoulder the young faun gazed at the silhouette of her mother's former lover on the decks also. He was there as her guard, it was said, to protect and defend while she spoke. Yet her mother had whispered to her before she had left to be wary of him, for Shinsou had broken her heart before. And so it was that Celandine kept her bearings, kept her will to her own and forged into her mind a resolve to do what must be done with the task at hand.

This was going to be one hell of a job.

Shinsou Vaan fucking Osiris. Now, that was the name of a person you really didn’t want to piss off. Unless, of course, you had a death wish or you wanted to go out in a blaze of glory. Did these people really expect that Umbra was the type of person that could, and would, be able to keep a man like that in check?

Yeah, right.

The note containing beautiful written scrawl, the details of Umbra’s next assignment, was unceremoniously crumpled up within the mercenary’s iron gauntlet before being tossed carelessly into the churning waters of Tylmerande.

Its mind swam with questions on how, and why, they had been the one chosen for this task. Surely, there were others more suited to being able to rein Shinsou in should he go AWOL? What about that one girl who’s anger caused explosions? Umbra had heard many tales of that one often enough, though most tales of her often felt exaggerated to the point of disbelief.

No. Umbra’s involvement in this had to have stemmed from the incident at the Higanbana. It was the only logical conclusion that made sense.

Though their time together had been brief, they had both certainly stirred the pot with that one. They attracted a lot of unwanted attention from many people that would have otherwise been content to have left them well enough alone. Depending on how deep the Higanbana’s roots were planted within Corone, there may have been some strings being pulled to get both Umbra and Shin off the island for a decent period of time.

‘And that Demon invasion could not have come at a better time’ The mercenary thought as they ascended the gangplank up to the deck of the Britannia.

Their attention was immediately drawn to the iconic white greatcoat of Shinsou van Osiris. His commanding presence was only diminished by the very fact that the man clearly did not want to be here. Stood by him were those who Umbra assumed were the Radasanth delegation, and they appeared to be the ones in charge of this whole expedition.

Umbra’s keen eyes quickly took note of the fact that none of the delegation present had been the one to hire them for this assignment.

“Typical.” The warrior hissed under their breath, approaching the group without breaking their stride. One of the delegation members turned to look at them as they approached with a small smile hidden under his grey moustache.

“Ah, wonderful timing!” He hummed in approval, and turned back to the delegation without so much as a greeting for the mercenary. “Now, as per our agreement Mr Osiris, this will be our hired eyes and ears for this expedition. I do believe you two have already met?”

Umbra gave Shinsou a cordial nod in acknowledgment, which the Telgradian returned.

Shin was mostly preoccupied with the members of the Radasanth delegation, who continued giving the once would-be conqueror a very thorough brief of what to expect. Umbra listened in as long as they dared, but the round and about way they spoke to make their point only served to remind Umbra of older times. Even to this day, Umbra wanted nothing to do with it.

With no one paying the Iron clad mercenary any attention they managed to slip away from the group unnoticed and began sweeping the deck for their other ‘charge’. Celandine van der Aart was perhaps the biggest red flag that Umbra had ever encountered. The girl was ‘young’. Very, very young. And she was the one to play the diplomat?

The hell?

If it had been Philomel herself then Umbra would have been able to make more sense of the assignment. Both her and Shinsou would have been able to keep each other in check far more suitably than some mercenary that had just a single run in with the Telgradian. But to send her daughter instead? That was just mind boggling.

‘Does she truly have that much faith in her daughter?’ Umbra thought as their seeking eyes turned to the prow of the ship and spotted the tiny four foot faun tightly wrapped up in winter wear to fend off the cold. Umbra’s posture softened at the sight as they wondered if the expectations of adults would be too much for the girl to bear.

Ocean spray hit the ship’s broadside like white grapeshot as it slid over another wave.

The rhythm of the seas in Alerar’s waters was far more violent than those of Corone’s, and a single-sailed vessel like theirs felt it more than the slower and hardier trading vessels that were typical of the merchants and smugglers. Shinsou imagined that his friend back in Stonevale, Preston, had braved such seas in search of profit from the trade of all manner of goods in this backwater region. As he perched himself on the starboard side of the ship, and tried not to vomit in front of the others, he made a mental note to ask the trader how his stomach coped with the trip when he returned.

The boat lurched forward once more, and the Telgradian staggered and spun before righting himself and hurling beige matter overboard into the murky green below. He watched grimly as the thin film of stomach contents drifted on the surface, and felt the bitter, acidic burn in his throat subside.

"Are you ok?”

Celandine came over, putting a hand on his back as Shinsou wiped the remnants of vomit on his white sleeve. It was the first time he had really had the opportunity to speak to her. Like Philomel, she had turned out to be pretty, in a somewhat delicate sense. It looked as if one of the delegation had covered the rest of her person in a warm, bulky robe to keep her from the chill of the high seas. In spite of this there was still a sense of noble bearing about her slender frame, which was in stark contrast to Shinsou’s “rough and ready” look.

Certainly so whilst he was cleaning up his own sick.

“Megalomaniacal wizards? Fine. Psychotic, nine-tailed, magically enhanced brothel owners? No problem. But put me on a boat, Celandine?” Shinsou chuckled, groaning slightly, “Heh. Apparently, I’m just not cut out for ocean travel. Look at Umbra over there…now there’s a guy who can stomach a boat trip.”

His eyes fixated on the looming, silent spectre of his compatriot, and what a spectre it was. The plate metal wrapped around it served as an impregnable bulwark as far as Umbra was concerned, both for body and persona. They had taken down the Higanabana brothel together in Stonevale, and the armoured goliath had proven to be a truly formidable fighting machine. The Telgradian couldn’t, however, put a finger on exactly what was driving that being underneath. He wasn’t even sure what it was. He could, however, see the good in it, having watched it crashed angrily against its enemies to protect many innocent women. Even so, there was still an inhospitable difference between them. Umbra was the unknown quantity that could make or break their plan.

In any case, Shinsou refused to get too hemmed in on that issue. By the time they got stuck into Alerar proper, it wouldn’t matter whether they could swap pleasantries over a campfire or not. Shinsou knew the demons in those granite mountains ahead were waiting, just behind the layered rows of jagged teeth that threatened to swallow all approaching vessels whole. They didn’t care one bit who was talking to who, or whom was working for whom. They would just kill anything with a pulse, indiscriminately. That included Shinsou, and everyone on this boat.

He felt like now was a good time to remind everybody of this fact, as his attention focused on the one gap in the cliffs ahead, the one source of sanctuary towards which the vessel upon which he now stood gamely toiled.

“We’re mooring at what we’re told is a safe, designated landing spot, but don’t believe it. Be ready for anything,” Shinsou said, pointing towards the gap in the cliffs. “It doesn’t take long for a situation to change, and we’ve been in transit, without any form of communication now, for two days. The port of Antega could have fallen to the demons in that time, and if so we’ll need to moor further upshore at Malgrior. So, make sure you all stick to me and Umbra like glue at all times.”

“Unlikely,” the Radasanthian delegation’s main negotiator, the man called Troy who had spoken with Shinsou in his office, answered. He was still wearing the same clothes from the other day, but this time had a hood over his straw coloured hair. Only eyes of piercing light blue shone out from underneath, accented by a touch of middle age in his cheeks. “The citizens of Antega were very careful in how they built the settlement. When they wanted a port to ensure trade, they were not willing to expose themselves to any danger. So, they carved the harbour into the rocks instead, to make sure that none could strike at it, and built a large perimeter wall. The demons have more pressing matters north, and I don’t think they would waste time and resources on such a small target. We can moor there.”

“Well, there you have it!” Shinsou, his tone dripping with sarcasm, shrugged. “He doesn’t think the demons will be there. Phew. That’s put my mind at ease! How about all of you?” The Telgradian braced himself against the next wave and relaxed as it passed beneath them. Umbra didn’t even seem to notice it.

The man appeared to grit his teeth, quietly seething at the tactless rebuff. “Shinsou, I-”

Osiris’s eyes were fixed on the growing spires in the distance, the sprawl of buildings nestled around high walls and impregnable cliffs. He pointed to the thick wisps of black that had just started to rise above the land as their vessel gamely approached the cliffs from the southwest.

“There, look there. That's smoke. It is always the first thing you look for. Why? Because it never lies. An encampment, or an imminent or ongoing attack. It doesn't matter; smoke always gives you away. What does that look like to you, Troy?”

The Radasanthian delegate tried to mask his distaste with a hasty smile. “A siege. As you say, situations change.”

“Yes, they do. Thankfully, the demons saw fit to alert us to their presence before we put our boots on Antega’s shore. Captain, steer us away from the coast and moor us further up please. The last thing we need to do is give them an easy target.” Troy was spared further ire from Shinsou as the captain called for sails to be unfurled. The crewmates around them scurried to obey with respectful salutes.

The white coated spellsword studied the occupants of the ship for a moment, checking for any signs of stress or worry, or any other reaction. Celandine, most of the delegation and Umbra all seemed focused and relaxed enough, whilst Troy played his part well. They all knew the demons were just over the horizon, although not what they potentially faced, and that Shinsou’s suggestion was wise. They all knew that they had to be prepared for the worst as much as possible.

Everything, for now, was going according to plan.

Satisfied that all was in order for the moment, the Telgradian turned back to the slit in the cliffs to the fore, edging away now with every successive swell. It was impressive to behold; larger than any feat of engineering that he had come across before. The solemn gazes of a pair of sentinel statues faced out onto the ocean and questioned their passing, eroded and worn by the whim of the ocean.

The ship inched slowly towards their new destination, the port town of Malgrior, and what Shinsou knew to be a date with destiny.

Lightly, the young scholar chewed on her lip as they skirted around the cliff edge, away from the mighty stone guardians of the port they would no longer weigh anchor at. Smoke almost always bode ill when one was not expecting it. A good fire on a cold winter's night - yes, that was quite fine, but you would expect that coming from a stacked chimney and a homely fire. This kind of dark brooding horizon amassed above a town spoke of warfare. And Celandine had read enough books on battle history to know what sort of destiny could be met there.

"Demons," she whispered quietly. "I've never - never met any of them before. Only the odd kenku and vampiric type of tiefling. Never a full blooded demon though."

She paused and looked over to her companions - the tall suit of armour and the white-coated mage and warrior. Breathing out slowly she thought about her books and other supplies down below in her small tight cabin. They were wrapped tight in enchanted oilskin that would keep out any wet and dust. They were the few things she had reasoned it was proper and suitable to bring - volumes of tiny lettering that she still had not quite read through but she had grabbed from a library just before they left in the hope they would prove to be invaluable.

"I have a treatise on demons with me," she murmured, turning away from the fire. "I'm just going to get it. And the rest of my … belongings."

It made sense to her to be prepared - for if this smoke was the kind of danger they potentially faced then the need to make a swift exit was necessary. Quietly, pushing her way past the rapidly working sailors and their comrades she descended down to the lower decks. As the ship heaved to change the direction it creaked and shivered, as if the planks themselves felt the chill wind. Celandine easily reached the first deck, but then she had to pause as four sailors rushed at her, their eyes wide and panicked.
Stepping to the side on the already narrow staircase she gripped onto the bannister, trying to allow them room. But they were obviously in a great hurry, for they shoved past her, and also got stuck around and behind her.

"GAH!" One muttered, looking back as two more joined behind the temporary hazard and blockage. The first at the top of the stairs managed to forge his way into the chaos above, which released some tension and space - but it was halted again by someone trying to come down the stairs this time.

"We've - we've not got enough gunpowder!" Someone yelled. "We couldn't get the amount of supplies necessary before we left. And the ammunition for the ballista too - severely limited. We're going to be -"

Celandine winced, and decided to leave the easier way. She pushed hard on her hands and rocked back, jumping high and up and over the banister to get to the lower floor. As she did she saw the panicked face of a young woman with an armful of large bolts - which Celandine could only assume was the limited ballista ammunition - struggled forwards.

"These are the last of the ones from back storage, foreman! We don't - there's not enough!"

Definitely time to prepare to get off the ship quickly. Heading down to her quarters Celandine ducked into the tiny compartment which she shared with a first mate and ignored the messy blankets to grab the oilskin package. This she tucked into her satchel, heaved the strap short and tight and began back up.

By the time she was at the top of the ship once more they had turned, and the new destination of Malgrior was on the horizon.

A somber silence hung over the crew of the Britannia as the rising smoke from the besieged port of Antega began to fade over the horizon. The ship continued to steadily lurch back and forth as they closed in towards their alternate destination, though the worried glances the crew all shared with each other spoke volumes of their ill fated venture.

“Captain!” One of the crewmen along the ship's starboard cried out suddenly. “Malgrior! Just over into the distance!" He called, pointing towards its general direction. The captain stepped up along the poop deck with a telescope already against his eye.

“Aye, Can’t be but an hour longer out at this distance," he paused long enough to look over at his crew, and explained with a tired sigh, “We’ll keep a wide berth around the coast; the waters can be a bit choppy around this time of year.”

“Captain!” Troy spoke up in irritation “We have lost enough time as it is, not to mention we are heading to the wrong port. If there is any way that you can get us there faster, then I insist you take it.”

The captain and his crew looked at the Radasanth delegation member as though he had just grown a second head. The captain's weather worn brows began to crease as he hesitated over his words for a brief moment. “Beggin your pardon sir, but that's the Aegis cliff between the port and us. We just can’t go and rush past the cliffs into port at full sail, there’d be nothing left of the ship to go home in.”

The delegation member remained unmoved as he raised his own sandy coloured brow in question “Can it be done?”

Again, the Captain hesitated to answer. “Aye, I know a way. Blockade runners and smugglers would skirt around the cliff's edge, but doing so would be a considerable risk to the ship and my crew.” He answered very reluctantly.

Troy turned his back to stare at the port. “Then proceed. The longer we take getting there, the greater possibility of everything going disastrously wrong.”

He turned only long enough to stare at the captain from over his shoulder. “Did we already not agree that any damage sustained will be paid for in full?”

The captain quietly mumbled something under his breath. He shuffled from side to side, in time with the vessel cresting the waves, and fixed his eyes from the delegation member to Malgrior and back again.

He gave out one last reluctant sigh before straightening his posture and calling out to the crew. “Make ready for full sail! We’ll need speed and our wits about us to get through this in one piece.” The orders were given with conviction, much to the dismay of the sailors. They looked at each other in worry.

Umbra looked over towards Troy with an air of distaste welling up from within. Even as the valiant crew of the Britannia moved about the deck in accordance to the captain's orders, the Mercenary contemplated throwing the man overboard along with the contract that bound them to his will.

Might have to get into a line for that. Umbra observed as there was no shortage of people that gave the stoic man a look of utter contempt. The mercenary approached the currently less-than-impressed co-leader of the brotherhood while holding onto a piece of rope that had been tied to the main mast.

“You might want to hold onto this.” Umbra offered “And hopefully the little lady finds somewhere safe below deck for what is to come.”

"I hope she likes the sea," Shinsou replied, gritting his teeth as he bound the rope around his forearm to secure himself, "Because thanks to that clown, if she stays down there, she'll be seeing plenty of it soon. Someone better get her above deck before she gets killed."

The ship lurched heavily towards starboard as its sails were fully unfurled. The Britannia quickly picked up speed, blowing through the waves that attempted to push it to shore. They closed in alongside a worryingly large amount of jagged stone that, for a brief moment, seemed to loom above them as they teetered ever so daringly close.

Umbra’s knuckles whitened as their grip tightened around the safety rope; their iron sabatons raking across a length of the deck as it listed at a steep forty five degree incline. The captain hissed a curse and reached over to aid the helmsman from avoiding steering them directly into the hazardous rock formation.

An errant wave almost ended them at that moment, as the top of the main mast came within only meters of colliding with a rocky outcrop shaped like a bulwark of spears rising from the ocean floor. A lantern that hung off the back of the ship's poop deck was torn off completely as the hull groaned in complaint, scraping along the reef hidden below the waves before the ship gave an almighty shudder.

Eternity held its breath as the moment lingered for an age. The Brittannia cleared the hazard with nought but the port dangerously close up ahead. “We're going too fast! One-quarter Sail! And get ready to drop the anchor, we’ll try to come to a full stop right on top of that pier” The captain ordered.

“Oh shi- Captain! Demons, on the Pier!” another crewman yelled out in alarm.

“Damn it!” The captain huffed under his breath as he stepped away from the helm to give Troy a ‘told you so’ look. “Looks like Malgrior fares little better!”

Troy didn’t answer and instead looked upon the rapidly approaching pier with a look of contempt. “Enough is enough. Captain, bring us into port” he said venomously and looked at Umbra directly.

“Umbra, you're up, secure the pier!”

Though at odds with being treated as the delegation's own private hound, Umbra would not deny that the order was not an unpleasant one. Umbra released the safety rope and reached for the hilt of the weathered and battered bastard sword at their hip in one fluid motion as the vessel bore down upon the pier.

“Drop the anchor!” The captain yelled from behind as the mercenary strode over to the railing at the bow of the ship. A quick glance down gave no hint to suggest that the Brittannia would be able to come to a full stop before slamming into the stone pier, though watching the fate of the ship was discarded in favour of engaging a contingent of demon soldiers that were hastily rushing down the length of the pier to meet them.

Umbra unsheathed their sword in response and stood atop the railing, before calmly stepping off.

Umbra dropped from the bow of the ship like an iron weight towards the demon at the fore of the contingent, a large burly thing with a pig-like face. They had not even spotted the iron clad warrior fall until Umbra was atop the pig demon feet first and drove it backwards into the ground with a pained squeal of detest until darkness claimed its consciousness.

Umbra stepped off of its face without missing a beat and swung the length of the sword atop their shoulder as they eyed at who or what was left. Five gruesome grotesque monstrosities hissed out their displeasure, their red hued skin littered spikes and chitinous protrusions and their visible bare muscles gave no doubt that these creatures were from a wholly different realm. They were clothed only by the barest of threads, with no sign of any type of armour. Supposedly the demon that resembled a pig with too many tusks acted as a leader or general, being the only one that had been armed and armoured. Though, these impish looking fiends were not entirely defenseless either. Umbra noted. What may have once counted as their fingers had been warped and twisted into menacing bladed talons, and their sharpened teeth gleamed menacingly upon their lipless faces.

Umbra had little time to reflect on the nature of these demons as the bow of the Britannia failed to come to a stop in and continued unabated, colliding into the stone landing and shaking it to its foundations. Its hull groaned in protest as momentum continued to carry the ship further along the pier, splintering and snapping its wooden husk into several pieces until it came to a thunderous stop. The vessel lurched atop the wharf like a beached whale, buckled from bow to stern along its starboard. Its underbelly was gutted open and from the wound spilled precious cargo, loose from the supply hold.

One of the demons charged under the cascading failure of the hull's integrity when it sensed that the warrior was distracted. Claws swept in from above at what it had thought was a defenceless target, its claws swiped at nothing but air as Umbra glided to it’s left, swinging their sword downwards to cut through flesh and bone until the demon's head and arms were sundered from the rest of its body.

The four demons that were left released an inhuman shriek, and snapped forwards as one to tear their prey apart. Red lightning flashed up along the mercenary’s legs and in the next instant Umbra stood behind the pack with their back towards them.

Another set of claws came sweeping in from a particularly observant demon, whilst the others stared ahead in confusion at their target’s sudden apparent disappearance. Umbra spun on their heel and battered the demon's claws to one side with the flat side of the weathered sword, and followed through with a kick that caught the imp squarely in the chest and sent it tumbling off to one side.

The third demon, after hearing the commotion, turned to meet Umbra’s gauntlet. As it connected, it broke both tooth and bone with a crunch. But just as another began to turn around, Umbra seized the one with the broken jaw by the face and swung it head first with a tremendous force into the third, knocking them both down to the ground in a heap.

Umbra looked up at the fourth demon still standing as it pounced upon them with savage glee, only to be met mid-flight by the broken hilt guard of Umbra’s bastard sword. It wedged deep into the demon's eye socket with a sickening squelch.

And now that they are down Umbra mentally checked off as the two dazed impish fiends slowly started to regain their senses. Umbra fell upon them as they drove the weathered blade through the forehead of one and stomped down upon the other with their iron sabaton, feeling only a muted crunch underfoot.

With no sign of reinforcements, Umbra turned to what remained of the port city of Malgrior. Although it was considerably smaller than Antega, the damage was no less extensive. The stench of smoke and burned flesh lingered in the air as though death itself had descended upon the lives of those who once lived here. Umbra’s gaze lingered up the blood-stained steps that led into town as the sounds of screams echoed in the distance.

The demon that had been kicked to one side charged towards Umbra with an unholy rage. Umbra regarded the demon with revulsion before slamming their iron pauldron into the demon's path, knocking it back down to the ground in a senseless heap.

The mercenary spared one last glance to the broken remains of the Brittannia and the sailors moving around atop its splintered deck. Umbra felt that they would be ok for the time being and reached down, grabbing the demon by the back of its neck and dragging its limp weight towards the center of town.

Malgrior used to be a sleepy fishing village and had been devoid of incidents since the Raiaeran campaign. Thanks in equal parts to Troy’s ineptitude, Umbra’s brutality and the demon’s insurgency, it now looked nothing short of a war zone.

Shinsou Vaan Osiris had been thrown against the ship’s mast on impact with the pier, briefly concussed as the back of his head collided with the heavy oak beam, and had slumped against it into a half-conscious heap. A few moments passed before the Telgradian woke up, but when he did, he was greeted with a veritable nightmare; the part caused by Troy’s ineptitude. Their vessel was wrecked. The hull had split into multiple pieces, which were strewn and stranded against the jagged coastal rocks beneath the pier onto which the vessel had been steered. Deep within the dark chasms that now separated the splintered remnants of the vessel, Shinsou could see all the way down to the quarters and then the supply decks. Crates had been overturned and their contents emptied into the rising ocean. The Telgradian frowned as he watched the navy green sea send the sacks of grain, barrels of fresh water and gunpowder, books and camping gear to a watery oblivion. The upper decks seemed doused with crimson, and a quick head count suggested at least three were missing, including Celandine.

Shit! Fucking shit! Shinsou hissed, frantically surveying the cracks of the boat for the young Faun. As much as it had been a mistake to allow Troy to have the run of the show and the ship, it was perhaps an even greater error to let Celandine come at all. She was never a part of his plan, and now..

There. At the bottom of the supply deck, Shinsou could see the Faun rescuing what texts she could from the unforgiving grasp of the ocean.

“Celandine! Get out of there, leave them! Oh, shi-”

The mast behind him had finally failed and snapped in half, soaring through the hazy incandescence towards him. Shinsou dived instinctively as It shattered the decking planks like crystal upon bedrock on impact, sliding to a rest at a forty five degrees angle between the upper deck and the supply deck where Celandine was stranded.

“Climb the mast!” His voice bellowed down to the centre of the room, “You can-“

A wailing shriek cut him off, echoing harrowingly across the deck and instantly chilling every muscle in his body. Shinsou’s arcanely-attuned senses detected the approach of something evil. Another shriek pierced the air, followed closely by a third.

It was looking for them.

The sinewy demon crawled into view from the upturned bow of the boat. It’s long, salivating tongue swung from a burned face whose only discernible feature was the scarlet glow in its eyes. Tall and powerful, it landed with a thump just ahead of Shinsou and leaned forward, slashing malevolently at the insignificantly diminutive Telgradian with razor sharp claws. Shinsou needed no second invitation. He called quickly upon Enpera’s power to grant him greater speed and carved the air before him with a sword strike that shimmered with raw, blue power. The blade met little resistance as it sheared through flesh and bone and, with an agonised screech, the demons eyes flickered once and faded. The remains of its carcass self-immolated in a searing white flame, but by that time Shinsou had already rolled clear, smearing his coat in pools of gore.

The progressive deterioration of the situation around him had been matched only by a growing sense of dread about the threat of overwhelming demonic adversity. As he clambered to his knees, he watched as Celandine clambered the last section of the wooden mast to the top deck.

“Are you hurt?” Shinsou looked the faun up and down. She seemed physically okay, for now, but could see her staring morbidly at the ruined stores below. “Leave them, It’s too late for that now. We need to move. There…” Shinsou’s finger pointed towards the city, where Umbra had carved a bloody corridor through a small number of demons physically similar to the one he had killed moments ago. “Let’s go.”

Through a newly falling misty rain, the pair ran from the deck of the annihilated ship and leapt onto the pier together. Shinsou’s livery of faded white, stained with blood, slunk through sheets of falling grey towards the apparently unharmed delegation ahead. Iron-capped leather boots splashed through gory and muddy puddles formed in potholes of neglected cobbles as Umbra approached them quietly but assuredly. Troy and his band followed in tow.

“Not that you need a pat on the back from me, but you did well, Umbra,” Shinsou acknowledged. “Those demons looked like some sort of advanced scouting party, probably up from Antega. You can bet your shiny metal rear that there will be more on the way soon, though.”

Thoughts of their situation coursed with equal swiftness through Shinsou’s mind. Every inhalation fed him the chill of the ocean wind, of the steaming putrification of the demon’s corpses and his own sweat. Every exhalation escaped as a plume of vapour into the rain. His golden eyes once again washed over the cold, tired and worn faces, until they fell upon Troy.

Which reminds me…

“You...” The Telgradian angrily stomped over to the Radasanthian delegate, “You stupid, self centered, arrogant little bastard!”

Troy’s eyes widened in shock as the Brotherhood’s leader gripped his cloak with one hand and held him an inch off the ground, turning his head towards the shipwreck with a powerful punch. The delegate’s body swayed from side to side before the Telgradian grunted and placed him back down, every now and again casting a fierce glance over his shoulder to remind the Radasanthian councilor of his ire. After a minute, he turned to the remainder of the crew, their party and Umbra and Celandine, and shook his head.

"Two crew members dead, a week’s worth of supplies lost to the sea and our ship home spread across the Alerarian coastline. I’m only surprised you didn’t find time to get us all killed, too, Troy. It’s only by some miracle of the Thaynes and Umbra’s sword that we’re still here."

Flicking sodden strands of dark hair out of his face, Shinsou looked up at each of them with rage reddening his cheeks.

"Troy, do you think you're bombproof to us because you're kicking up salutes to the Assembly? I'm here to tell you that you aren't. You pull shit like that again, and I swear to the Thaynes above that by the time i'm done with you, you'll think you've been fucked by an Alerarian steamtrain. Let me make something fucking clear to all of you; there is no margin for error anymore with this mission. From now on, we do things my way.” He immediately regretted his uncharacteristic outburst, as it was hardly the fault of Celandine or Umbra, but Troy deserved it and more besides. There was an awkward silence before the Telgradian exhaled, and shook his head. Unchecked emotion served no purpose.

“Good. I think we understand each other. Now, let’s get out of here. Celandine, lead us on.”

As they walked on towards town silently, he caught sight of his reflection in one of the many bloodied puddles that dotted the pier’s concourse. A dirtied face stared back at him, with circles of weariness above his cheeks visible even in the dim light. Shinsou stopped for a moment as he looked back towards an Alerarian sea in turmoil.
Only now did Shinsou remember the note that he had been handed by Storm Veritas before he left. It was still on his desk, but he closed his eyes and remembered what was written. At the end of it all, there were three words.

Remember the spoon.

A determined expression touched his face for the briefest of moments. To anyone else, the words were nonsensical. To the Brotherhood’s leaders, it was both a code and a promise to each other. It was powered by a single memory; the horrific sight of the severed hand of a small child, burned alive whilst still clutching a spoon amongst the Whitevale wreckage after Arius Mephisto’s assault. It had served as a reminder of what happened when they had let their weakness go unchecked. It acted as a catalyst to their actions and motives, reminding them of their duty to stay ahead in the game and to never let anyone else get the better of them, lest others suffer for it.

It was also a message; an important one. Shinsou held those words close, as both of them knew their importance and context here in this place.

With that, the spellsword turned and started to walk again silently alongside the pair Celandine and Umbra, down the pier and along the town path towards their destination. Troy disdainfully watched Shinsou ahead of him, blue eyes steady and red robes ruffling as the ocean winds themselves bade them goodbye from Malgrior.

Uneasy, disconcerted, perturbed; the young faun headed her way beside their ever diminishing party, her brows low and her breath short. It had been hours since they had begun their journey - slow and steady, but ever onwards, ceasing only at a small hamlet and roadside inn that was off the road and so far untouched by the demons who perhaps had not wanted to bother with meager farming peasants. There they had left their sick and injured, with a few volunteer soldiers who would nurse the ill back to health, be a small guard for the village, and be able to possibly organize some way of getting home.

One day, maybe. It did also mean that only the ready and able-bodied would continue onto the Sanctuary - that place where they would meet the other delegates of the meeting. With hope on the way back they would have more information and ability to collect the refreshed and alive sailors who could take the burden of getting them back to Corone.

She chewed on her lip. Anxious, for her books and papers she had lost. Indeed, at least the most precious were wrapped in that oilskin, and the scholar had opened the package very gently and carefully to find that the enchantment had at least worked. The book on demons, the thin volume on Aleran politics and the journal she kept were all well and dry. She had taken time to ride on the back of the wagon commandeered from the hamlet to read over the book of demons. It had taken her a mere twenty minutes to consume the information, and another ten to learn all the important quotes by heart. Now she was an expert in at least in the specific demons that were connected to this sword of legend. She would serve a use in investigating the matter.

"The first king of Alerar. Elrohir Fararil. He ended the Demon war. The sword is of legend, written about in many tomes and looks like -"

"Hmm?" Troy that dickhead said, looking over at her.

Celandine glanced up to him, pulling her shawl more around her. She had hastily knitted it after her wool had dried at the fire made in the quiet inn, literally pulling strands and making it as she walked. It was full of mistakes and holes, just as if Renegade, her weird pet-but-not-pet pygmy goat, had chewed upon it (naturally she had not wanted him to come on this trip).

She shook her head. "Thinking about what I need to do."

"You don't need to do much. Just do the proper formalities and I'll take care of the rest."

The young woman found herself frowning.

"This is my role, Troy. I am the diplomat for this journey, not you. You were to get us safely to our destination and be a representative of the Assembly. It is my role to-"

"Ha, yes dear," he laughed at her, shaking his head condescendingly. "What are you - eight? Nine?"

"That - that doesn't have anything to do with maturity!" She protested, appalled at his revelation. How he knew her true age she knew not. Looking around at their companions she stared in earnest at the marching suit of armor at her side, and the skulking white coated being who trailed at the back of the company. Shinsou was too far to hear perhaps, but Umbra …

Troy continued to laugh. But none of his comrades and none of the sailors would offer any assistance. Awkwardly, they all looked away, a couple of winces coming across their faces.

"Look, I am here, idiot, as a result of my training and my knowledge," she growled at him, stamping her hooves into the dirt. Sharply, she raised a hand to his elbow and pulled the much taller man to a halt. The others paused, but then moved around them, allowing space for the faun to yell at the insulting civil servant.

Feverishly she shoved a hand into his chest. An image of a dream from the night before - her, standing here on a road, shouting at a humanoid much taller and older than her but treating her with disrespect - came to her memory. She gritted her teeth and held up a fist to him as he barely shook from her shove.

"You respect my mother right? So respect me. I'm here to do my duty, and you are here to do yours. You may be from the Assembly, but so was I chosen by them. We're in a difficult position, already losing time and I won't have you - you know." She shoved into him again, but she was not as strong as her mother. She wasn't a warrior. It was to make a point and not injure, and it did not.
Shinsou was almost upon them. He seemed odd, weird and mysterious but then perhaps one needed to be to win the affections of her mother. Celandine blew a whisp of hair out of her face.

"We're going to the Sanctuary and I will speak to the Maesters Jivvin, Cazri and Sabal. Me." She nodded once at him and turned sternly, leaving him there on the pathway, not sure if he was stunned or lost or just confused. Either way she had made her point and they would soon get to the Sanctuary and meet the other delegates.

Forwards and onwards the group slowly marched, making one gruesome discovery after another along the road. Bodies littered the ground while wagons and other constructs of Alerarian design were left to the wayside, crushed and broken. Signs of struggle suggested that these people had been caught unawares by the sudden and swift change that had overtaken these lands. Umbra noted one particularly grim scene where the arm of a dark elf had reached out for salvation from under the wreckage of a wagon that had been overturned. Any hope for succor had long since waned and the arm had remained motionless ever since.

Many amongst the group felt righteous indignation and swore vengeance upon the demon horde that had swept across these lands, while others quietly sulked with solemn prayers for protection. Umbra did neither of these things. They felt hardly anything about it at all; there was no smoldering anger for the lives lost, nor sorrow for the ones that would not see the light upon the morrow. There was just a silent indifference and a grudging acceptance.

Umbra had learned a lesson in ages past; to be indifferent to such sights, to be unmoved by senseless slaughter and to be fearless of the fleeting grip of death. Or, so they silently told themselves. All the while, Umbra’s hand gripped the weathered hilt of their sword even tighter with a strengthening urge to crush and maim. Their eyes lingered, before tearing themselves away from the mangled remains and refocusing their attention back along the winding road along the hellish landscape of Alerar.

Just like the Aegis cliffs that had nearly ended their journey early, more jagged spires of rock lay across the land in clusters of untraversable peaks and spines. Early explorers must have once thought that the edge of the world lay just beyond this expanse of land that they had called the dragon's teeth.

One of their group whispered stories that once told that the land itself was actually that of an ancient Wyrm. One day, it would snap it’s maw shut, devouring all within before ripping itself from the land that had formed over it while it slumbered.

‘It certainly feels like we're entering the mouth of a beast.’ Umbra lamented, thankful that the superstition of those early explorers had given way to those more industrious; those who sought out the precious minerals that lay far below their feet. Without them, there would not have been a paved road that made these jagged peaks far more hospitable and traversable.

‘That still does not mean that we are welcome.’ The mercenary thought while casting their attention upwards.

The black clouds overhead coiled and rumbled in displeasure as an acrid wind blew through the spines. This created a haunting melody that resonated with the unearthly howls of unimaginable beasts lurking up ahead. Indeed, the very land itself felt as though it had turned its gaze upon the small group that descended the winding roads and bid them unwelcome.

Almost as unwelcome as the dignitary that clung to their side for protection. Although Troy’s face was one of steel, the fearful glint in his eyes as they turned to track every noise in the distance gave away his emotional state each and every time. Umbra did not care for the man, not one whit. They had known many men like this one, and each and every single one of them had been the architect of their own downfall.

“Remember your contract Umbra. You are to be our eyes and ears. And our sword if needs be,” Troy stated between his gritted teeth. His eyes bore hatred at Shinsou, who walked just up ahead as the leader of the party. Umbra gave a noncommittal grunt of acknowledgement as they thought of that baleful contract. The situation had changed and yet even with their only retreat now in splinters, Troy was all too eager to give Umbra the order to stab the Telgradian in the back at the earliest opportunity.

If he didn’t go and get himself and everyone else killed first.

“You forget yourself! I know exactly who and what you are!” He quietly seethed between his clenched teeth, hissing under the blatant dismissal

The offhand comment all but demanded Umbra’s full attention as the faceless helmet turned to look directly at the dignitary. They stared very carefully at the man before them, gauging if he was bluffing or not. With a curious tilt of the iron helm did Umbra consider the point moot.

“Good for you.” The mercenary said slowly with a distorted metallic voice. “I hope you're able to sleep better because of it.” The mercenary muttered quietly before dismissing the man and his claim once again without a second thought.

‘He’s just bluffing, and even if he wasn’t...’ Umbra calmly reasoned. He considered that if Troy did actually know who and what Umbra was, then that would likely warrant an investigation. That was something Troy really didn’t want to happen.

As the group crested a small hill that took them under one of the land's jagged spines, ‘Sanctuary’ was visible just a small trek up ahead. Both figuratively and literally in this hell hole, Sanctuary was an Alerarian fortress in an otherwise inhospitable land. It was encircled by a ribbed steel battlement, covered in large misshapen pipes that flowed along it’s walls before reaching out towards the rocky spires that surrounded it.

The keep itself dominated the center of the landscape. It was a man made monstrosity, with sloped curved walls atop one another in clear cut layers that were separated by dull metal ramparts and windows that cast a warm cozy light in this barren landscape. Lightning crackled as it cut a crooked ark through the air and struck one of the keeps’ spires that served as a lightning rod.

Machinery whirred to life as the main gate creaked and groaned, opening as they approached. Armored dark elven soldiers poured out of the gates to greet them with sharpened blades.

“Hold yer horses ya damn dim witted pointy eared elvish sons of a bloated whore!” Eloquently cursed a middle aged dwarf as he roughly pushed past the dark elven soldiers that stood at the rear. The dwarf took a long drag of his cigar as his eyes swept over the group before them, lingering curiously on Shinsou and passing by Celandine completely to take stock of Troy.

“I’m guessing you'd be the diplomat sent from Corone?” He asked curiously as he exhaled a pungent cloud of smoke from between his lips. “We’d figured you would all be dead by now, considering the last report we had was that Antega was under siege. Heh, you’d forgive us for not rolling out the red carpet, things have not been going well as you can surely guess by now.”

“And the armed welcome?” Umbra spoke up, causing the dwarf to turn their way with an appraising eye that lingered over their iron armor. “Yeah, see, you ain’t the first to turn up looking to get in. Had some trouble with a few nasty demons that could change shape.”

“Be that as it may, we are here now.” Troy smugly replied as he stepped forwards while pushing back the hood of his cloak. “By some miracle at the very least.” he uttered under his breath.

“I am Troy Ashton, acting as the rep-” Troy was suddenly cut off as the young faun indignantly pushed past Troy with a huff and stood fearlessly before the dwarf, who gave her a curious look.

“As the acting representative of the Radasanth delegation, and witness to the horrors of what these demons are capable of, I'm eager to start talks as soon as possible.” Celandine spoke eloquently as she came to the fore. Her voice bore no hesitance, as though she had been doing this for years.

The dwarf looked at her curiously," The name’s Sabal” he introduced himself after a moment’s pause. “Being a faun, you wouldn’t happen to be the Philomel would you?” The dwarf asked with a hopeful tone.

“I am Celandine Van der Aart, sir. Philomel is my mother.” The girl politely answered after a moment of hesitation.

Troy seethed as he looked down upon the faun with hatred. He moved only slightly to reach forward and pull the young girl back behind him, but hesitated when he caught sight of Shinsou’s glare. It was a clear, silent warning; that if he did anything to the girl, there would be hell to pay. Umbra’s gave their own dismissive shrug and left the delegation member to silently stew all by himself.

Umbra would have been honest to say that they thought that Celandine was still too young to be here, acting as a diplomat of all things. Even without Troy’s off hand comment (that the girl was supposedly even younger than she physically looked), it did little to ease those doubts. But Umbra still preferred Celandine acting as their diplomat over the bumbling antics of Troy any day of the week.

The Dehlar plate clad dwarf stroked his long black beard thoughtfully while taking another drag on his cigar. “Too bad, I was kinda hoping that someone of her renown would be here. No offense.” The dwarf grumbled with a heavy frown.

“While I ain’t no diplomat like yerself, i’m just an advisor on the account that I helped find the bloody damn gate in the first place!” He lamented with an almost regretful tone. “Ah, but this ain’t no place to harangue a guest. Come in. We will talk more where it’s nice, warm and safe,” he said with a toothy grin and flashed a dirty look back to the dark elven guards

“Now, if only they could learn the same manners as you,” he said to Celandine with an amused twinkle in his dark eyes, before ushering the group within the ‘Sanctuary.’ No doubt they would find a warm bed along with food and water to sate their hunger and quench their thirst.

The large mechanical gate began to shut, groaning and protesting as massive gears span like complex clockwork from somewhere within the metal fortress’ walls. Umbra paused only long enough to look back as rocks began to tumble down along a steep cliff. Though Umbra was quick to trace the source of the falling stones, they were not able to ascertain who or what had disturbed the rocks in the first place.

Sanctuary.

Originally built as an outpost of last resort for Alerar’s ruling family, the black steel fortress was intended to protect almost thirty generations of dark elven bloodline. The walled citadel’s function since the end of the Raiaeran conflict had changed to meet the needs of the times, and while it was still considered to be one of Alerar’s most impregnable defences, it now routinely hosted a variety of diplomatic events ranging from routine state visits to extraordinary council meetings.

On this particularly miserable evening, it happened to be hosting one of the most important pan-Althanian conferences in Alerar’s history.

Shinsou Vaan Osiris marveled at Sanctuary as he followed the Radasanthian delegation through its dark metal maw. It was as bold on the inside as it was intimidating on the outside; they first walked down a huge corridor plated with dark steel and adorned with overhanging mechanical contraptions that serviced the working parts of the fortress’s internals, before reaching a welcoming hall. As if conjured from the workbooks of Ettermire’s finest engineers, every stone slab, metal sheet, doorway or feature was precise and even. These were walls made to protect a community, to echo with the whispers of steel and song and be the shelter they needed for the millennia to come, and anyone who walked these halls could tell that had been achieved with great aplomb. The elves who constructed this were truly set on perfection, as if they really loved what they had made, but also had an absolute understanding of the reason of their undertaking.

An attendant quietly showed the group from the welcoming hall into a smaller room on the west wing. As the delegation filed through the slightly narrower doorway, the Telgradian nodded his acknowledgement to the young elf and squeezed through.

Celandine, however, froze at the door. So sudden was the faun’s stop that those behind her were caught off balance, swerving around or crashing into her back.

Shinsou frowned, placing a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “What’s up? You okay?”

There was no response. The Telgradian circled back in front of her, kneeling and looking into her eyes for any sort of reaction in her pupils. They were fixated on the room ahead, as if she had seen a ghost.

“Celandine?” He repeated, shaking her shoulders lightly. “What's up, Celandine?”

"N-nothing...” She said, her voice trembling slightly.

“Doesn't seem like nothing to me...” Shinsou replied quietly as people barged past the two of them, “What's going on?”

There was no response. The girl looked faint.

“Let’s sit you down. Have something to eat and drink – you’re probably exhausted from the trip.“ The spellsword’s whisper reached her as he took the faun’s hand, crouching beside her. Ahead, a plethora of diplomatic representatives from all sorts of creeds and cultures were seated in a circular chamber. They sat on white marble steps that fanned out from a small, central well in the middle right to the outer rim of the room. This new hall, some sixty of these ‘steps’ in size, opened up to a single walkway that led to chambers that Shinsou understood to be reserved for the Alerarian delegates alone.

The Telgradian helped walk Celandine to her own seat, allowing the Radasanthian party to file past them first into their own places on the ‘step’, before walking back up to the entrance of the room. Umbra faced him now at the other side.

“What happened?” The armored guardian queried as they settled into their picket.

“A fainting fit, I think. I’ve told her to get something to eat and drink. Something we should be doing, really. But, priorities.” To most, guard duty was hardly a concession to luxury, and Shinsou was particularly unaccustomed to it.

About half an hour passed as the gathering were served a relatively light dinner, consisting mostly of fish and jugs of warm Alerarian liquor. At the head of the room squatted Sabal the dwarf, who sat quietly without eating and instead set about polishing the head of his Delyn warhammer. During a pause in the meticulous cleaning, the dwarf’s brown eyes flashed towards Shinsou, and then back across the numerous faces ahead of him. Two female Alerarian dark elves entered from the chambers behind the podium pre-prepared scripts and itineraries well in hand. Dressed in matching robes of pale washed lime, the one on the left approached the podium and began to address the conference.

Patience, Shinsou reminded himself, as he cleaned the blade of his sword Enpera with the loose sleeve of his coat, casting another glance over the faun as she righted herself to eat in her seat. Not long now.

“To the nations of Althanas, we welcome you to Sanctuary,” A pair of gentle silver eyes flitted between the speech and the gathered. Her slender face, framed by caramel hair, tried to show a reassuring expression “Thank you for coming such a long way. We are gathered here today because we find ourselves in the crescendo of a-“

The Alerarian spokesman’s voice trailed off into the back of Shinsou’s mind as his attention remained on Sabal. The dwarven master engineer was bulkier and looked more dangerous looking than anyone present; he wore mismatched tatters of clothing underneath a prideful display of dehlar and dragonscale armor, likely forged by himself. Sword scars of conflicts long past marked his bare forearms. He styled himself something of a genius in the field of mechanics, and despite his size and heritage seemed to possess a reasonable intellect.

It wasn’t long after another few second’s worth of eye contact from Sabal that a tingling occured in the depths of the Telgradian’s gut; his magically attuned senses alerting him to an imminent presence. The dwarven master exited the room, flashing the Telgradian a final look with a venomous glare. Shinsou’s golden eyes narrowed in response, which Umbra immediately noticed.

“Are you ok? You seem distracted.” It tilted its head with the query. The Telgradian could almost feel its eyes piercing through him from underneath the helmet.

“Stay here.” Came the instruction, as Shinsou’s head turned back towards the entrance. “Something’s off. I’ll go-”

The sentence shattered into inaudible nonsense as a blast of air sent the Telgradian reeling against the wall, and everyone else crashing to the floor. Spots of crackling plasma began to appear at the entrance to the room, each anomaly morphing from gas, to plasma, to solid, before everything pooled into a whirling orbit of pentagonal and hexagonal discs. Unseen forces converged, and matter and energy combined as two translucent avatars phased from the space between the portal walls. The first was a woman. Her dark skin and silver eyes gave her away as a dark elf, and her Vlince and Njalian Spidersilk garments marked her as such. The second was an usual type, clearly a dark elf, but lumbered with a harsh looking mechanical breathing apparatus.

“…He’s here, Jivvin.” The words passed her thin, grey lips as the elven woman’s silver eyes washed over those in attendance. In the grasp of her right hand, a sword glowed a luminescent blue hue; its white runes shimmered with arcane power and pulsed with a metronomic rhythm. Jivvin stared at the gathered as audible gasps and alarmed exclamations filled the room.

Jivvin’s pale yellow eyes flicked left just in time to see the manifestation of something dark beside him. Dark Matter formed the dour core of the magic; a portal carved from pure power that contained the deadly lances of Shinsou’s Enpera Kurohitsugi. The ornate and functional granite blocks beside him began to dissolve as the magic holding portal hung in the air, chewing through the materials like acid through paper. Finally, he turned to meet the Telgradian’s gaze.

“Shinsou Vaan Osiris, as bold as ever,” The dark elf quipped, appearing unfazed as Cazri settled into a stance. “How long has it been now?”

Celandine gaped in surprise at the unexpected statement, confusion writ clearly upon her features. Shinsou knew these people? Then all of this, all along…

Her eyes darted about in panic, and they finally settled upon the faces of her companions, who were all equally shocked.

“A year since we met, I believe.” Shinsou reasoned as he stood there unfazed.

Yeah, a year. I was stuck in Alerar still thanks to Arius, while Storm went through hell in Raiaera. You got me out of there on a promise - that I’d help you find the Temple of Elrohir Fararil, so that you could find the Sword of the First King. It was a cost I was willing to pay - the prize at the end was worth so much more.

Jivvin’s mechanical lung clunked away in the background as it converted air into the noxious gasses he thrived on. “We had to improvise a little on adjusting the timescales for this little deception. Given that your vessel got wrecked and you got attacked at Malgrior, you did well getting here. Unfortunately, pulling the sword gave us some unexpected results.”

“Indeed.” Cazri confirmed. “A demonic gateway opened within the temple and connected directly to Tular. As you can imagine, this set in motion a cataclysmic chain of events that had led us here. We’ve had to make choices we weren’t expecting to make.”

Yeah, no fucking kidding. Shinsou lamented, side-eyeing his dark elven peer as his deadly magic remained poised. “What of Storm? Any word?”

“None yet.” Came Cazri’s response. “I hope he hurries. After what we’ve done, there is no future for us in Alerar or for you in Corone anymore. The demons saw to that for us, and your choices here will seal your fate with Radasanth. Can I trust you to deal with this for us?”

The Telgradian sighed, reluctantly twisting a hand. The portal containing the lances of Enpera Kurohitsugi twisted on its axis until its dark maw faced the twenty or so politicians gathered within Sanctuary’s chambers. Their gasps and shrieks of horror filled the air as they realized what was about to happen, and who was about to send them to their maker.

This is it. No going back now after this.

He could not help but tremble slightly at the daunting undertaking, for the choice he would now make would change the course of his life forever. But, whatever that choice was, it was a necessary one. In fact, nothing was more necessary than this now. It all now depended on whether he was capable of it anymore.

“Enpera…”

Suigetsu.

Those close to Shinsou might have spotted the sly difference of the vocal incantation for Enpera Kurohitsugi, but there were none present who realized the significance of it. Regardless, The Telgradian did as was bid, rising solemnly to his feet and unleashing his lances towards the front of the hall. The cries of the dying rasped around the chamber as the spears tore through bone and sinew, painting a masterpiece of blood and gore over the white marble canvas of Sanctuary’s interior. As his assault stopped, Shinsou paced like a psychotic through the bodies; the hackles on the back of his neck rising as he fielded angry and astonished glares from the two he had let live. Celandine and Umbra appeared to have been held at bay by the presence of Cazri and Jivvin, and seemed to be too shocked to react to what had just unfolded.

“Kill them.” Cazri spat, indicating coldly to the pair who had lived.

The moment seemed to dissolve like winter snow on salt. Shinsou Vaan Osiris sighed, although whether in sympathy or in regret the dark elf had no way to tell. A wave of a hand dismissed this notion entirely, and he walked away without a second thought. A disparaging glare followed him back to the foot of the room.

“I said, kill them!”

The Telgradian shrugged Cazri away like an inconsequential fly, falling back on years of experience dealing with subtle disobedience. “Your political opponents are destroyed. There is nothing to gain by killing a child and a mercenary, and our time is short.”

Only then did Cazri finally give in to Shinsou’s defiance. She took a moment to weave the Sword of the First King about her person, and as she did a hot backdraft swept through her golden hair. The blade’s edge traced a cross through the air, leaving an invisible thread of light that first glittered before tearing open into a portal of black expanse. With a tug, she pulled the sword free of the arcane energies and sheathed it into the scabbard on the side of her body.

“Sabal has already retreated. Let us go to the Temple of Elrohir Fararil.”

Cazri and Jivvin stepped through, leaving Shinsou alone for a second with the frightened faun and her armored charge. Before anyone could say anything, or muster up the courage for an attack, the Telgradian waved a hand, and shot Celandine and Umbra a final, knowing glance.

Sorry, but this is something I have to do. You can chew me out later.

As Sanctuary was left to contemplate Shinsou’s actions, deep within the warp gate traveled Sabal, Cazri, Jivvin and the Telgradian. So entrenched within the folds of space and time, none were able to interact with each other. Instead, they stood apart in the void, each surrounded by a crystalline membrane that pulsed gently. A continuous kaleidoscope of colors wrapped around them all as the dimensions continued to twist and bend to the sword’s whim. All the while, Shinsou's mind settled into a meditative state, and a measure of satisfaction came to him. It had been a huge gamble, but a power he had not used in over five years had come back to him. Indeed, it had been activated in that very chamber. Now, he would show those left behind the truth by deactivating it.

Release, Enpera Suigetsu.

That look. That look.

She was beyond frozen in fear. Her heart hung heavy with betrayal. Her mother's once true love now with the devious enemy, a man who had promised to protect her from all ills.

And he had. But he had also …

Also killed. Yet also given her that striking look. Drys above! What did it all mean? What was she to do? A sea of bodies lay around them, and the portal that had brought those grim demons along with the sword of legend that she had so longed to study was gone. Damn, it was gone.

And she had seen - seen…

Seen what? A large room. A well like construct in the center. Steps aplenty leading towards or away, all the room gray of granite but also brilliantly lit by the lanterns and then - the flash of light. The feeling of danger. Blood stains on a well and the sound of breaking glass. The hunger that seemed to emanate from everywhere, a rich desire and conflict and horror -

She had known it was all to go wrong. She had felt the pain and the suffering that they would go through and yet she had done nothing. She had only glanced at Shinsou and said.

It's nothing. But then - that look …

And then she breathed out. And it was as if when she did the world simply melted away. Shimmering and mesmerizing, the scene was reality for a moment. It showed the awful betrayal of their friend and companion - but then it was not. Air twisted, light glistened, and the world churned. The illusion fell away in a shower of crystalline ice snow as if it had never been there before.

They were alive. They were all alive. The spears that had struck them were nothing but ghosts and the bodies that had been flung to the side were nothing but tricks in the light. Clinging onto Umbra's firm metal arm, now able to move, Celandine gasped, her eyes widening as she finally understood what Shinsou had been trying to tell them.

That look. That, knowing, serious look. He had been telling them that it was all a ploy, all part of his devious mind, and that after all they could trust him! He was not wicked of heart after all!

All those bodies, all that death - it was not anything! It was not reality. The young faun gazed in amazement as the victims of the supposed betrayal began to come to their senses.

"What?" some asked, "what - where - who?!"

"The sword! Of the first King! I saw-!"

"Demons! And betrayal! How could this be?! This place is-"

"Full of woe! My heart is full of woe. We are-"

"We are in serious danger!"

Celandine clutched at her new compatriot's hand. "Shinsou was part of this - in his planning. He didn't want to kill everyone so… an illusion. But I saw - last night I dreamt of the pain we would suffer here." She whispered. "He's gone deep. Much deeper than is safe. This whole adventure is a misadventure. Demons and spies are everywhere. We need to get out of here."

She paused, glancing around as if anyone was now a suspect. "Are you with me, bold knight? I can conceal us from this, but I need you to trust me. We have to do our own investigation from hereon in."

The amount of fear that had coalesced within the room after Shinsou’s ‘apparent’ betrayal was almost palpable to the hired mercenary’s ire. "How annoying," Umbra groused irritably as they observed the respected dignitaries from far off nations devolve into a hysterical panic in the face of their own mortality.

"Leave it to a person like Shinsou van fucking Osiris to fuck up what should have been a nice freindly chat about an obvious alliance to repel a demon fucking invasion," Umbra hissed from between their gritted teeth. Their iron armour rattled silently as the mercenary shook with the resolve to punch the man in the face the next time they met.

"Forget what his reasons are!" The mercenary mentally resolved that the punch was now fated to happen one way or another. Umbra’s hidden gaze swept across the room to the men and women that had apparently ‘died’ under an illusion, and ended up only cursing Shinsou even more for his unwillingness to include both Celandine and themselves from the massacre.

‘Idiot, if you're going to go all in you don’t leave room for doubt.’ Umbra mentally scolded the man that was no longer with them and wondered if a single punch was enough for that man. "Was he always so sentimental?" Umbra mused while shaking off their own annoyance to deal with the young diplomats' own blossoming concern.

“Bold knight?” Umbra repeated and looked down to the young girl that was lightly holding onto their gauntlet, With a shake of their head their head the mercenary proceeded to say in a soft tone, “I would not go after him if I were you. Shinsou has chosen his own path to follow, and interfering with it now in any attempt to ‘save’ him from this choice may end up not only putting yourself in danger it may also unravel any idiotic plot that Shinsou is scheming.”


The look of surprise and disappointment upon Celandine’s face was evident to anyone that happened to look upon her at that moment in time. “"I didn't mean go after him, Umbra," she hissed. "I meant ... Us. Get out of here. Together. This is all going to fail. It's darker than anyone could have predicted.” The faun snapped in annoyance, though Umbra remained unmoved by her apparent vexation.

“Be that as it may, I'm not at liberty to off galavanting around on my whims.” The mercenary said irritably while turning their gaze to the other dignitaries, “As much as you don’t care for it right now, your place is here in this room. Though organizing this lot into any semblance of an alliance against a demon invasion may seem like it’s the farthest thing on your mind right now. But isn’t that the responsibility that your mother tasked you with in her stead?” Umbra asked with a pointed nod at their young charge.

“T-that's - that's not quite what I …" she glared at him. "So you're staying here? Not coming with me to protect me?" Celandine muttered.

“I’m bound by my contract.” The warrior answered honestly. “To act as the eyes and ears of Radasanths dignitary, and to reign in Shinsou should he present an immediate risk.” Celandine's eyes glinted with annoyance and turned her back upon the mercenary. Umbra lightly sighed in response while wondering if they had pushed the girl too far. Once more Umbra struggled to view the young girl for the diplomat she ought to have been, Troy’s allegations of her real age lingered in the back of their mind, giving form to lingering doubts.

‘Fine then, so you want out of this place, i can arrange that.’ Umbra thought sadly and turned to wave down the closest guard that was still up and about though more than a little confused with the current proceedings. “Take this one too her room,” Umbra ordered the guard once he came close enough, his eyes widened just as much as Celandines as she looked up at Umbra in surprise.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Umbra gently admonished. “Consider this meeting adjourned, Troy can handle things until we're ready to reconvene.”

The look of doubt that settled upon the young faun’s face was almost comical “Troy - I'm not a child. I'm trying to -” She made one last effort to appeal for Umbra’s aid though she seemed to be able to sense that the warriors' resolve was as firm as the armour they wore.

“Go, take her, make sure she gets some rest," Umbra asked the guard who nodded and proceeded to lead the Faun out of the room with a gentle hand upon her shoulder. The faun resisted the gesture and violently shook off the offending hand to turn and glare at both Umbra and the guard.

"I'll leave of my own accord!" she snapped.

Celandine held her glare as though daring them to say anything else though a gleam in her eyes made Umbra almost reconsider allowing the girl to do what she wanted, but chose to wave to the two off instead. Celandine twirled in a fit of rage, her chin held high, sauntering out as the guard struggled to come to their wits and hurry after her. Umbra did not stop to watch them leave as they were already bearing down upon the miserable Troy who remained sat at the table with his head buried in his palms.

Umbra brow grew heavy once they noted the piss staining the man’s pants but ignored it in favour of slamming an armoured hand down upon the table next to Troy to gain his attention. The man predictably almost jumped out of his skin at Umbra’s sudden action and traced the armoured arm back up towards the faceless iron visor with fearful eyes.

“U-Umbra, for god's sake, you scared the living daylights out of me!” He hissed.

“No more than what Shinsou did, are these talks salvageable?” Umbra asked the man calmly and watched as a frantic glint began to shine in the man’s eyes.

“Salvageable?” Troy barked out in annoyance before waving his hand at the shaken dignitaries. “This is a disaster! Even if any talks could take place now we are cut off from Radasanth, from Corone! And none of these people would be willing to form an alliance with us after we escorted an assassin to their table!”

“And what of the dwarf serving as the dignitary of Alerar?” Umbra questioned “surely he can’t be excused for conspiring with said assassin either, if Corone has been implicated in this crime, then so too is Alerar. And I think they need our help now more than we need theirs.”

Troy narrowed his eyes at the armoured warrior and clenched his fists together in anger “And what would a mere mercenary know of Alerar’s political situation?” Umbra huffed in annoyance, “Enough to know that your earlier comment about knowing who and what i am was merely a bluff.”

Umbra gripped the back of Troy's seat and roughly pulled him away from the table. “I’ve been patient with you thus far, more than you deserve. But as your eyes and ears I am not at liberty to do more than I have already done, so if you want to do something worthwhile on this trip, then I suggest you man up, change your pants, and start negotiating like we were supposed to do from the beginning.”

“How. Dare. You!” Troy’s voice rose sharply in indignation as he flew up onto his feet to glare at the lowly mercenary. “If you think you can badger me into doing what you want then you have another thing coming!” The man rored at the top of his voice and stormed away from the table, where he waved over a nearby dark elven guard and uttered something about taking him to his room.

Umbra watched him leave with a long weary sigh, “I hate politics.” Maybe trying to snap Troy back to his senses by using such an aggressive method was not the right choice, not that Umbra could think of any other means as such aggressive tactics were all too commonplace back in the day of their fathers court…

Umbra immediately dismissed such forlorn memories in favour of observing the feast that had been thrown across the room in the initial appearance of that demonic portal. It was a shame, it had looked like a nice spread too with a delectable looking piece of pork that now rested in the corner of the room. With a reluctant sigh the armoured knight made their own way out of the room to find some corner to bunker down in until either Celandine or Troy were willing to play their proper roles.

Though the guard that was quickly rushing up towards the mercenary left only a pit in their stomach. “T-the girl! I just looked away for just a moment, she was there and the next she was gone! I looked everywhere but I just could not find her!”

“So you went off on your own after all,” Umbra whispered under their breath, but the damage was done now, the girl's earlier comment about being able to get them out of the room left little doubt that whatever method she had meant to use she had done so to escape her escort.

“Research, the little lady meant to do research, is there a library or archive within these walls?” Umbra asked the guard with a thinly veiled annoyance.

“Well, err yes, there is a library meant for-” Umbra quickly cut off the guard. “Then go check there first, I'll keep an eye out in case she decides to double back around.” Umbra lied as the guard took off for wherever the library was on a wild goose chase.

Idly, now that they were currently free from any obligations that the contract held over them the mercenary pondered on a method that could resolve the current situation as neatly as possible.

Only to then begin to wonder if they even should. ‘No, I'm not going to allow these talks to fail.’


- - - -


It was some time later when Troy began to stir from his sleep. However the warm blankets and comfortable mattress that had been afforded to him within one of the guest rooms did little to ease his mind from the awful events that he had been made to endure on this journey.

The storm that had been building up mere hours ago now buffeted and battered the fortress in all of it’s unrestrained fury. Thunder clapped as arcs of lightning struck the lightning rods under its relentless assault. Troy shivered as a strong cold wind swept through his room through an open window.

An open window? His tired mind wondered as they swore that the window had been closed when he had crawled under the beds sheets. He groaned at the indignity of having to get out of his bed to close the window as servants were in short supply within Sanctuary and none had been tasked to see to his needs.

The man shuffled across the floor holding the bed sheets close to his body to ward off the chilly wind as he closed the window and flicked a clasp to avert the window from opening up again. His tired mind now satisfied that he had rid himself of one problem began to wonder how he should rid himself of that pesky slip of a girl and that boorish mercenary.

He knew that he need not bother to entertain thoughts of Shinsou, that man had written his own cheque and his time in Corone was coming to a close all with his own doing. Troy chuckled as his head rested against the pillow, giving no thought as to how or why the window had been opened despite being previously closed. Nor did he notice the shadowed figure waiting in the corner of his room watching the man intently with ruby red eyes.

Judgment:

Hey hey! So I will be doing a condensed version of the rubric for the tournament. I will still be adding commentary to the sections, so you may see random comments as I notate and read through things. If you have questions or concerns please feel free to reach out to me to discuss. I wish you all the best!

Plot

(Story, Setting, Pace) 26

All: For the most part I have no issues with the story at all, everything seemed to flow well together. The setting was very well done by all 3 of you as well. The pacing flowed very well - some of the later posts were a bit longer, and in turn a little long-winded so slowed the pace of reading down.

Character

(Communication, Action, Persona) 25

All: You all wrote your characters incredibly well, and displayed the type of writing that displays characters not just through narrative, but through action and reaction as well. I think there was a bit of over-dramaticized action related to Troy at times. Communication was great, outside of some of the interaction with Troy as mentioned. Some of the later actions were a little clunky to read, but overall well done.

Prose

(Mechanics, Clarity, Technique) 24

All: I couldn’t find but a couple mechanical errors throughout the entire thread. Umbra, some of your posts seemed a bit choppy with the way the paragraphs were, but not enough to throw anything off too much.

Wild Card

9

• Interact with at least one faction, either as an ally or enemy - or create your own and that faction must interact with the others somehow
• Overcome one “political” obstacle - Completed in spades
• Due to the hurried nature of everyone scrambling to get to the new discovery, your characters are not fully stocked/prepared in some way - [Post 7] mentioned not having enough gunpowder and supplies for the ballista though not sure how it impacted anything

Score: 84

Rewards:
Shin - 2652 exp | 250 gold
Celandine - 1325 exp | 250 gold
Umbra - 1225 exp | 250 gold

EXP and GP added.

Welcome to Level 17 Shin!