[Solo/Closed] The Hero Rises

Kirin loses his tail within fifteen minutes. The city is swarming, though, the entirety of the Guard turned out just to find him. It's a thrill, for sure, but it's also a little worrying, because it's not just him; his entire gang is being hunted right now. He doesn't like that. Sure, they can take care of themselves, but still. This tip-off had to have come from someone who knew them, knew their movements and where they'd be and when they'd be most vulnerable--which means they've been betrayed. Probably by Check, the absolute bastard.

He takes a hard right and goes over the low wall there, avoiding the guard walking down the street.

Kirin grimaces. He'd like to simply lie low for a while, maybe even get out of the city entirely, but he needs to make sure his people are okay first. He heads out of the city, towards the Delta outskirts, and circles around to head back towards their safehouse along the mostly-unused sewer systems.

There are only three people there when he gets there, all of them younger street-rats whom the Guard would have overlooked in the raid. They're wide-eyed and skittish, a little ragged around the edges. Kirin feels the same--their world has just been ripped out from underneath them--but he can pull off cool-headed and competent right now; they need him to be in control of himself. He gathers them to him, quickly debriefs them all, and sends them off for food and rest, taking the first watch himself.

A few other members trickle in over the next few hours. Lexon, of course, has escaped easily enough, no doubt leading half the Guard on a merry chase around the city first. Cress is there, a small group huddled at his heels, grimly quiet with the seriousness of the situation. Both of them bring news--Lark has been caught, and Nathan and Corin both stayed behind to buy time for the others to escape.

Kirin swears under his breath. He wouldn't leave any of his behind, can hardly bear the thought of it now, but especially not Lark, laughing and surviving by the skin of his teeth, always looking for the next thrill. Not Nathan, deceptively sharp under his dreamy exterior. Not Corin, who would step forward to face a threat to protect anyone.

Lyria shows up next, leading another group of younger members, Aliah bringing up the rear, all dark eyes and glittering knives. There's blood splattered on her shoes, and Kirin doesn't ask when she doesn't volunteer the information. If it's important, she'll tell him. Otherwise, he will leave her to wrestle her demons as she sees fit.

In the end, it's determined that roughly two thirds of their group escaped--mostly due to Corin and Nathan stalling the initial raid.

Fuck. He has to fix this, but the Keep's dungeons are notoriously impenetrable.

Well, it's not like he has much of a choice. Kirin sends one of the little runners, scamps all of them, for a map.

It's time to plan a breakout.

Kirin’s little corner of the world specializes in procurement. Even while being hunted by the Guard, they remain the best of the best.

Supplies trickle in over the next few days--everything from weaponry, maps, and guard uniforms to heavy explosives. They're not going to be tackling the Citadel itself, but they might as well prepare as if they are.

Their information gatherers are the most active. They're busy with the guard, mostly-- shifts, power levels, bribability. Kirin's group can't exactly fight the entirety of the Empire's home troops, so stealth will have to be the word of the day, at least until they can blow the whole place sky-high on their way out. Lyria looks a little bit overexcited about that part, but honestly, they’re all coping in their own ways. At least someone is having fun.

Kirin and his remaining deputies, meanwhile, are planning. They've been compromised thoroughly at this point; Radasanth is no longer safe for them. It's the only thing any of them have ever known, but they can't afford to stay here.

They're going to get the others and get out. Permanently.

Their little safe space is bursting with activity. Street rats have little to weigh them down, but even they have collected their trinkets over the years. Food, clothing, and other such necessities are being gathered into easily carried packs and lined by the exit. Weapons are checked and re-checked, assessed for damage, replaced, sharpened, and practiced with. Even the littlest among them is proficient with at least some type of blade, although their elders hope against hope they'll never have to use it.

Not everyone is going on the rescue mission, only a handful of Kirin’s best. The rest are going to take advantage of the distraction and get everyone else out, planning to regroup later outside the city, well towards the mountains. Should all go well, their entire little pack will be safely away from Radasanth by nightfall.

Cress and Aliah volunteer to remain behind with the main body. That leaves Kirin, Lexon, and Lyria heading the strike force, as they’ve come to think of it.

They’ll be lucky if they haven’t blown up half the Keep, with Lexon and Lyria putting their heads together. Kirin would care more if they weren’t about to leave forever. The damn Empire deserves to get blown up and set on fire, a little.

And then, well--it’s time. They say their (hopefully temporary) goodbyes and split up. They have a government to finally destabilize.

The Keep is a vast castle, ringing the rise of the Citadel above it. It’s a fortress in its own right. Getting in should be nearly impossible. Instead, it’s one of the easiest parts of the night. A kitchen maid peeks her head out of a door in the wall, glances around, and beckons them sharply over before vanishing off to wherever she spends her nights. They slip through easily enough, turning away from the kitchens and heading downwards toward the dungeons. The makeshift map holds true, and it’s not long before they’re all staring down a long, dark stairwell lit with flickering torches.

It’s almost like they’re trying for cliche nightmare status.

Kirin grits his teeth and heads downward, Lyria at his heels and Lexon guarding the rear. Lyria carries a bag nearly as big as she is--they’d tried to help her with it, but she’d waved them off. They’re the fighters, she was the explosives expert, so they were damn well going to let her carry her own weight.

Wisely, the two boys had shut up and got on with it. Leader Kirin might be, but he knows better than to cross any of his girls when they’re like that.

It’s only once their on the dungeon level that things get difficult. There’s no way to conceal their presence here entirely, but they have to keep the guards from making it up to alert anyone else while they’re yet here. The two standing by the entrance go down quickly and quietly, nary a noise made between them, and Lexon grimaces.

“You two go on ahead. I’ll make sure no one gets past me. We’ve got two hours until the shift change. Hurry.”

They bind and disarm the guards, and then Kirin and Lyria are hurrying on, only stopping long enough for Lyria to set one of the little bricks in her bag down against the outer wall. They’re right under the heart of the Keep, so if they aren’t careful, they’ll bring half the mountain down on their heads. Literally. On the other hand, once the charges are set and they’re all clear, they’ll be able to bring half the mountain down on the heads of their pursuers.

It’s a worthy trade-off, they think.

They have no map for the dungeons; none of their sources had been down there. From what a quick look around tells them, though, is that the cells are arranged along a wide hallway in a rectangular format; the center is used for the guards--probably an interrogation room, a barracks, and somewhere to hole up in case of a prison riot.

The good news is, most of the guards are in the center of the rectangle and easily locked in. The bad news is, they’re going to have to check every cell for Nathan and the others. Or, well, Kirin is. Lyria is busy--laying charges, he thinks, but he’s no expert and she’d waved him off distractedly when he’d tried to ask.

Kirin makes short work of the guard at each corner, stalking quietly past their unconscious forms. He finds the group easily enough; they’re all in the same hallway, and he can hear them talking to each other about meaningless things. No doubt, they’re trying to keep their spirits up.

Corin notices him first, from the cell he’s sharing with Lark, and he bolts upright silently. Kirin picks the lock and hands Lark his tools, letting the other boy go rescue the others along with Kirin. A quick headcount reveals everyone except Nathan. Kirin grimaces. He was afraid of that.

Corin volunteers,

“The guards took him to question him. He’s been in there for about two hours now. I tried to distract them, Kirin, I’m sorry.”

Gods, the boy looks so young, and the dark bruise blooming across his cheekbone stands out starkly.

Kirin is going to kill all of them. He’s not even going to wait for Lyria to blow them up, he’s just going to massacre them.

They all head back to the entrance, and Kirin hands them off to Lexon before turning and making for the guard room. Lyria is still busy, but well out of sight. She won’t be much longer, either.

Which means Nathan is the last thing they’re here to get.

Frankly, Kirin’s angry enough to enjoy this. He unblocks the door--it doesn’t look like anyone had tried to use it, so perhaps they were still not alerted?--and glances around carefully before slipping inside.

Immediately, he knows why the guards weren’t anywhere else. A heavy thud echoes around the chambers, followed by laughter and jeering. Kirin sees red.

He’s through the door into the room before he can pause to think better of it. The first guard dies before he can even finish turning Kirin’s way, his throat slit from behind. The others turn toward him, more or less sluggishly, and he can tell they’ve been drinking. There are five of them here, not counting the one he’s already killed, and he bares his teeth at them in challenge. The closest one lunges with a shout, and Kirin sidesteps and guts him in the same motion. It won’t kill him quickly, but it’ll put him out of the fight.

The other four are warier. He can see them scrambling for weapons, what little they have in the room with them. Most of their swords are still lying in the antechamber--before which Kirin stands like a bloody angel of death.

The closest two circle, wary of the knives but still confident in the way only the truly drunk can be. It makes them slower, yes, but also more resistant to pain, less likely to fear, and more unpredictable. Kirin hates fighting drunken idiots. Well, it’s not as if he has a choice.

The first one charges, arms spread wide for a tackle, and Kirin jumps, landing with driving force on the man’s back as he stumbles, not having encountered the expected resistance. It’s the work of a moment to crouch next to him and slit his throat as he falls.

The next one is upon him before he can rise, though, and Kirin stabs him twice in the legs before the beefy arms wrap around his throat. Before the man can do more than haul him to his feet, Kirin slams a knife into the forearm around his neck and then spins to bury his other blade deep in the man’s chest. He gives a choked cry as he falls.

Two more, but Kirin is winded now, and these two are much more intelligent. Besides, one of them does have a knife, and is closing in with single-minded determination. The other circles, no doubt hoping to flank him while his attention is focused on the larger threat.

As a knife fighter, Kirin is uniquely qualified to say that facing a knife fighter is utterly unfair. Even if you know what you’re doing, you’re still likely to get stabbed or slashed. Even Kirin, one of the best fighters he knows of, is covered in scars across his wrists, forearms, and hands--and most of those are from training.

In summary, this is going to suck.

He moves forward into the center of the room, meeting the other fighter halfway, and slashes sharply at his throat. The man leaps back easily, a mocking smirk on his lips, and offers his own testing thrust. They settle in to battle for real, after that, lightning-quick darts and retreats, waiting for one or the other to make a fatal slip.

It comes in the form of the other guard in the room, who makes to tackle Kirin from behind. Unfortunately for both of them, Kirin is not the only person on his side present.

“Behind you!”

All three of them startle--Kirin, at least, had thought Nathan mercifully unconscious--but Kirin is the fastest to recover, used to living on his toes. He leaps forward, catching the guard’s reflexive thrust with his own knife, twisting outward against the wrist and disarming him entirely. His momentum carries him, and his opponent falls with Kirin’s blade in his throat. The last guard decides, for once, that discretion is the better part of valor, and makes for the door.

Where Lyria clobbers him in the head with her last brick of explosives. For such a tiny person, she hits hard.

Kirin is already moving to release Nathan, from where his bound wrists are suspended from a hook in the ceiling. He catches his lieutenant’s weight as the boy nearly collapses, his legs unwilling to hold him after so many hours. Carefully, Kirin unbinds his hands and slings his arm over his own shoulder.

“Come on. We’ve got the others already, and Lyria’s about done rigging this whole place to blow.”

Nathan lifts his head at that, shaking his dark hair out of his eyes, and gives Kirin a faint smile.

See, Nathan’s not fragile, not really--fragile would imply that he can’t take care of himself, that he’s easily hurt, and that’s not it at all. But Nathan sometimes isn’t necessarily present. His body is there, but his mind wanders, distracted. They’re all used to it, by now. None of them have had the best experiences in life, and Nathan has the sharpest senses of any of them. It’s no wonder that he checks out of reality sometimes, when he’s too overwhelmed.

Kirin has never been grateful for this before, but he thinks it might have sheltered Nathan from the worst of the interrogation just now, and that’s definitely something he’s not going to begrudge.

Lyria gives them a worried look, but Kirin waves her off, back to her task.

They rejoin the others at the door and wait, although Nathan gets some worried attention from the other former prisoners. Corin, especially, tucks himself up against Nathan’s other side and takes some of his weight.

Finally, Lyria all but skips out the door, glee lighting her eyes as she unrolls a long fuse behind her.

“Let’s go! We need to be very, very clear when I set this off.”

After that it’s a silent, mad rush back through the tunnels towards the kitchen, Lyria trailing fuse all the way, before finally she deems them far enough away. They slip out the door, she lights the fuse, and then they run. If half the mountain really is going to come down on them, they don’t want to be near enough to be buried in the rubble, even if the explosion is going to miss them. Lexon is jogging backwards, laughter bubbling from his throat, and Lyria herself looks almost high on the rush from it.

It starts as a low rumble, growing to a crescendo, and they’re all witness to how the side of the Keep simply--vanishes.

It starts as a low rumble, growing to a crescendo, and they’re all witness to how the side of the Keep simply--vanishes.

There’s a flash of fire, a roar of noise, and then darkness again. Darkness in which they can see the Keep’s barriers crumble, nearly as far as they can see it. Darkness in which part of the massive jut of rock that supports the Citadel starts to slide sideways, leaving the Citadel itself untouched, but starting an avalanche that rips through the remaining fortifications of the Keep on this side, burying the entire thing under a thousand tons of rock.

They stop to celebrate, only briefly, but with utter jubilation, and then--yes, more running. Whatever’s left of the Guard that hasn’t just been trapped in their barracks or outright slaughtered will be on their way soon, and Kirin’s group needs to take advantage of this opportunity.

It’s nearing dawn by the time Kirin leads his little party safely outside the walls of Radasanth. Aliah looks relieved to have him here to take charge again, and even more relieved to have the others back. She gives him the jerk of a nod that’s the most acknowledgement she ever gives anyone and vanishes again, scooping a child that’s too tired to walk onto her back as she goes.

Lyria is still quivering, and she damn near tackles Cress as she babbles excitedly about the explosion. Lexon is still snickering to himself, and Nathan is--not out of it, precisely, but about as present as he ever is.

Well. Time to take their party and head for the mountains. They’re ready for it, he knows they are, but he worries nonetheless. It’s the prerogative of a leader, to worry about a group of people, and he does. Endlessly.

The journey itself is mostly uneventful to the slopes of the mountains, but once there, it rapidly gets difficult for the smaller children. They’ve had the foresight to bring warmer clothes, and it is summer, so the weather is mild. Still, the actual slopes are hard for little legs, and the youngest among them, probably no more than three, is unused to such constant exercise.

The eldest take turns carrying the little ones, when they can, trading off in shifts. As they expected, food quickly becomes the most dire necessity, even with several of the hunter-raised out scouting for what they can kill or forage. There are nearly twenty of them; there’s not much out there that’s not aware of the group of children wandering through their forests. Kirin has the vague idea of going to Gisela--surely they’d not turn away children? Even if they just took the younger ones, Kirin and the older teens would be able to manage on their own, if they had to.

It’s not the most elegant solution, but most of the younger ones still remember having families to go back to, and many of them hold that in their hearts despite their outward wariness of life in general. If they can go to good homes, Kirin will be content, even if that leaves him and the older ones alone. They’ve discussed this; they’re willing to give up their chances at a permanent home to allow the little ones more of a hope. Kirin himself has never hoped for such a thing; the entirety of his experience with authority figures has been...unpleasant. He knows most of the older kids are in agreement with him--they’ve all had their own hopes dashed enough times. They’re broken, a little, and usually he doesn’t mind, but it’s not something he wants for any of the little ones if it can be avoided.

If they can find a place to take them in, anyway. They’re tentatively planning to head for Gisela, hoping the Revolutionaries won’t look too closely at a bunch of refugee brats. But for that, they’ve got to get through the mountains. And across the elf-damned forest, but no sense borrowing trouble from tomorrow. Right now, they need to find a pass. Preferably before they exhaust their meagre supplies.

It takes some scouting, but by the end of the second evening, Lexon and Lark report back that they’ve found one. They’ve taken to the wilderness with surprising aplomb, and Kirin offers both of them a quicksilver smile before directing them towards the camp. He helps where he can with the menial chores; none of them would last long if any of them started thinking themselves above anything at all. Lex and Lark get the evening off, of course, but everyone pitches in where they can, even the little ones, who enthusiastically turn their packs back into the pile of blankets they originally were.

Nearly a week later, everyone is beginning to run hungry. They’re through the mountains, certainly, and food is a bit more plentiful in the forest, but even though Corone is not the largest of islands, it’s still daunting to trek across on foot. In addition, they’re all wary of being caught as outsiders to the forest and split up. None of them sleep well, even with several of them taking watch shifts, and tempers are starting to fray. Aliah disappears for hours at a time, scouting out what she can. Lexon gets quieter, which is never a good sign.

Corin, in contrast, talks more, trying to soothe ruffled feathers. Kei and Lark too spend more time wandering. For that matter, Kirin has never seen Kei so relaxed, even with all the added stress. The boy’s an elf, sure, but Kirin had never realized how out of place he’d felt in the city until he sees Kei in his natural environment. He practically melts into the trees, and there’s a weight off his shoulders that Kirin almost envies.

He makes a note to himself, to send Kei back here if he ever gets the chance. Their liaison with the Resistance, maybe?

By the time they’re within sight of Gisela, all of them are tired to death of walking, of sleeping outside, and of pinched stomachs. It’s not too uncommon for street rats to starve in Radasanth, but Kirin has provided well for his people, over the years, and they’ve all gotten a little spoiled. Kirin knows he’s getting a little too thin, himself, and he can’t even reprimand Corin for slipping the others some of his food, because he’s found almost all of his older group doing the same thing. Not a one of them does anything more than give him a vaguely sheepish look at being caught out, even when they know they might need to save their strength.

They stumble into Gisela under cover of darkness. There’s no time to scout the town, look for the best hideouts--they all pile into a little alley and seal it off as best they can. It’s a clean town, not as big as Radasanth, but not far shy of it either, and the ocean scent brings a touch of familiarity. Everyone sleeps well that night despite being outside.

The next day is a massive whirlwind of activity. They’re moving well before dawn, dispersing throughout the town on their scouting missions in small, easily-dismissed groups. An older sister and her two younger siblings. A pair of youths jostling each other playfully. A group of brats playing with a makeshift ball. They’re good at undercover, all of them, especially in the more rundown parts of town.

Kirin, with his half-elf heritage, and Kei, and Corin, take the upper districts, where the wealthy live. It’s the step above the merchant districts, where Lexon and Lyria wander, and further still from the lowest districts, where Aliah and Lark apply very different methods to the same problem. Kirin was tempted to go with them, but he’s been informed that he can terrorize the seedy underbelly of the city another day. For now, he needs information on the nobles.