Insane Mind Over Clear Matter

Insane Mind Over Clear Matter

[Closed to Shinsou.]

Attachment 141

“Whoa!”

Felicity clung to the reigns of the beast of burden, still uncomfortable riding it. Felicity usually traveled on foot or in wagon. It was rare for her to ride a horse. The white steed, named Chamomile, was a bit energetic. Compared to her new companion’s horse, she was hard to control. Sure, Felicity was an insanely fast learner, but even she was struggling to keep this mare under control.

As the horse’s hooves clanked against old, stone road, the landscape was bleak as ever. Ash clouds continued to roll with no signs of letting up. The grass outside Radasanth grew more yellow and dead every day. A single tree next to a darkened river was dropping, all leaves lost. How long until all of the plant life was gone, and the world starved as a result? Felicity’s concerns were, right now, still on that horse though. As the horse stomped off course yet again, the chilly air was little more than a mild distraction.

“Stop already!” Felicity was growing in irritation. Yanking the reigns in the direction of the road again, she struggled not to just start slapping the animal’s head. Yet the compassionate side of her won as usual. She was reduced to growling in hot temper as she finally pulled the horse up next to her travelling partner.

“How on earth – oh! Why do people ride these things?” She huffed. She looked over to see her new teacher, new mentor, riding his steed in a calm, nice manner. “So what’s wrong with my horse! ‘Chamomile’ does not begin to describe this horse’s personality…” Felicity puffed, looking towards the road ahead as Chamomile snorted.

Felicity was offered tutelage under the legend Shinsou Vaan Osiris. The short haired man was the leader of the Brotherhood. They had fought against the single standing home of Corone’s totalitarian Empire, at least as far as Corone Ranger propaganda called them, and attempted to bring new order to the constantly divided island. Well, nothing had changed. At least, while tensions rose even higher in the apocalypse, Felicity finally found her own place. The amber eyed man had met her in the Citadel. He was so impressed by her that he offered to train her! Honored, and pushed by the voices of her ancestors, she had decided to take him up on it. Now, they were leaving Radasanth behind them and headed towards Whitevale. Felicity was determined to prove even more that she was worthy of this man’s meager attention, yet she was unable to push back the strange discomfort that bubbled inside.

Her past was knocking on her door again. Felicity kept sending blocked memories away, but for how long?

“Chamomile!” Felicity shrieked as the horse suddenly started in a canter in front of Shinsou. Felicity yanked the reigns back, eyes wide as she cried out. “Stop!”

Yeah, she sure was impressive so far…

Shinsou Vaan Osiris chuckled to himself, guiding his own steed Slepnir gently to the other side of the road until he rode alongside his new student. He hadn’t really done it to get out of the way of Chamomile’s stubborn trotting, but rather to set the redhead at ease. His own experiences with her mount had been less than successful in the past, too.

“She’s a beauty, but a little too independent,” The Telgradian flashed the nervous looking Rhyolite a knowing smile, “The first time I tried to ride her, she bolted and threw me halfway across the god-damned town. In front of everyone on duty in Whitevale. Can you imagine that? Took me months to live that one down.”

Unlike the first time he had ridden the path to Whitevale, the Telgradian found no surprises from his new travelling companion. The last time he had come on horseback was the first day of their Brotherhood, when he and Storm Veritas staged a massive coup and removed the evil ruling council from the township. This time, the journey had been accentuated with nervous conversation. This time, there was peace, and Shinsou; seen by those who didn’t understand him as a dangerous and cold man, was starting to warm to his new student already. He had been watching her intently, making notes on her temperament, the symptoms and the causes, and mentally journalising exercises for helping her to control those surges of anger for later.

It was starting to hit late afternoon. The sun, as it always was these days was still tucked behind the ashen clouds that blighted the pot marked landscape near Whitevale, and only a dull glow from behind a thin blanket gave any clues as to the time. The pair rode down a familiar muddy hill towards the junction where Shinsou knew they would turn onto a long road. A couple of more miles would see them to the Brotherhood headquarters. He shot a sideways glance at the redhead as she started to get the gist of Chamomile, having gone from wrestling the reins to holding them, and looked at her properly for the first time. Felicity was strikingly understated. She wore clothes more fit for purpose than for fashion, yet had the complexion of a girl that would normally be turning heads in theatres. Everything she carried had a purpose, and as the wind held her clothes taut against her athletic frame, the girl didn’t once wince or shiver.

The area they were in, was a fairly rugged track next to farmland. Even with the enormous steed beneath him, the tall Telgradian felt every step beneath jolting him as the hooves churned up mud and clay.

"A lot of things have changed, here, since the siege of Radasanth. Something that I didn't think about was what kind of legacy we'd be leaving for the world, " Shinsou said, turning once more to Felicity, “It’s also why I chose to train you. I think I see more in you than you see in yourself, and that’s one part of it, but perhaps you can also teach me something too. My question to you is, what’s holding you back? You may not know the answer, at least right now, but we’ll get to it eventually.”

The Telgradian’s thoughts fluttered as the two rode on.

He had once been a wholly selfish thing; perhaps not the true hedonist that Veritas used to be, seeking only the tangible, but certainly out to look after his own interests. So many others had changed him for the better; Philomel van der Aart, Joshua Cronen and, ironically Storm himself. They had shown compassion and care for him, and were also strong, smart, and powerful. Perhaps now Shinsou felt that his peace would come from paying that compassion forwards; training a new generation that would outlast anything he had built.

Or, perhaps he wanted his students to carry on his legacy, if there even was one, after Shinsou was gone.

After all, some people were destined to be outlived.

An old farmhouse, abandoned and dilapidated, sat lonesomely atop a hill. The muddy road was handled defiantly by the white mare. Heavy, long trots and a bobbing head showed a desire for the steed to master the less than hospitable road. Felicity's annoyance died down as she felt herself relating to the steed's stubborn desire to beat the odds. As mud stained the snow colored horse and Felicity's brown pants, Felicity turned her head to listen to her new teacher. He spoke philosophically, in metaphors and code. Felicity raised an eyebrow. She rather preferred straight to the point conversation, yet was easily intelligible enough to take in what the man in the white trench coat was saying.

Indeed, a lot had changed. The abandoned farm house even now showed signs of aging. The distant sound of an old frame finally rotting enough to fall echoed across the hill. The decaying grasses and poor farm fences were withering away. Yet, Shinsou was deliberate and bold. He spoke of carefulness and the butterfly effect. He then asked Felicity a question.

What was holding her back?

For the first time, Felicity winced. She wanted to believe she was like this horse, determined to push on and emerge victorious. She at least used to be like that. Yet, as her ghosts smothered her in a constant blur of day and night, she was constantly being pushed back. She tried. She tried so hard to outrun the haunted house of her thoughts. Yet, even now, a single name kept popping up in her mind.

Ayleth. Ayleth. Ayleth.

Felicity scowled, a low growl rumbling in her throat as she violently shook her head. This time it's different! Shinsou is different! Shut up!

She did not realize that she accidentally spurred Chamomile on again. The horse reared and neighed in annoyance. Felicity gasped, brought into the external world again. She held on to the reigns and forced the horse down. "It's okay, girl! I'm sorry!"

The horse stomped in sludgy mud, causing Felicity's bags and equipment to become dirtied as well. A drop of mud flung onto Felicity's cheek as she reached and gently rubbed the horse's neck. "It's okay! It's okay..."

Her voice quivered. She herself did not notice, but she was starting to shake. The horse sensed the anxiety inside the girl and suddenly mellowed, as if hoping to calm her down by being calm. Chamomile started to slowly trudge as Felicity repetitively rubbed her hand up and down the mare's neck.

“Someone’s approaching, Durandal. It’s…I think It’s Shinsou!”

Loren stared out from her perch high in the guard tower, her elvish tinged with a Raiaeran mote of disbelief. She scanned the horizon once again just to make sure that she wasn’t dreaming. The monotonous yellow-green hills in three of the four directions made up the same old scenery that had greeted her eyes every day for the past three months, and then, straight ahead, a welcome sight indeed. The former ranger turned Brotherhood trainee told herself exultantly that she wasn’t imagining things as Slepnir and Chamomile cantered into view, one of their riders indeed the co-leader of the Brotherhood. The other was unknown to her, but she was sure that would change momentarily.

“Who is that with him?” Durandal, Loren’s elven brother, echoed from the wooden tower half a floor length below her, his voice remarkably gentle and pensive.

“I don’t know,” Loren’s pitch turned almost melodic with curiosity, “Let’s wait for him to give us the signal.”

It was a well-guarded but well established protocol for the Brotherhood leaders to sign to the watchtower whenever bringing someone new to the encampment. In an age where anything was possible, including infiltration by shapeshifters, anyone caught imitating the leaders to gain access to Whitevale would be easily rooted out at the gate. It had been attempted before, although without any success. With this in mind, the Telgradian, staring at the tower ahead, raised three fingers high, the sign for all clear. He wasn’t quite as interested in the once verdant greenery that encroached upon Whitevale’s fringes. His gaze was instead fixed upon the buildings within those stone walls, beyond the tower. He had not returned to Whitevale since the meteor shower that had devastated Radasanth and had pummelled Corone, and had been apprehensive about what he might be returning to. There was no smoke rising from the town, or damage to any buildings, which was a good sign.

“Welcome to Whitevale, Felicity,” Shinsou said, turning atop Slepnir’s saddle to face her. He could see she was still shaking, but was unsure of whether it was something he had said or the jitters from the ride in. “Once we’re through these gates, we’ll get the horses attended to and I’ll show you round.”

The horses’ hooves clacked on the cobblestone path as the pair cantered for the inviting iron gate, the wind at their backs and the browning leaves from nearby trees flitting harmlessly about them. The sky was still ashen grey, another reminder to mark the new age they lived in, and darker clouds ahead threatened to overrun as they scuttled towards the opposite horizon. Around the two elves was the constant activity of trained guardsmen at work, loosening the gate mechanisms and setting up in ceremonial squared formation as they primed their detachment to greet their leader.

“Shinsou!” Loren called down to the wall, where the Telgradian warrior-mage and his red-headed accomplice stared intently at the tower. “Welcome back! Permission to report in?”

There was no mistaking the elven tinge in her voice, and he looked up to reply with a smile.

“Good to see you Loren!” Shinsou shouted. “Please come down when you are ready, there’s someone I’d like to introduce you to.”

As the pair pulled into Whitevale’s square and attendants flocked to their mounts, Shinsou transferred his gaze to the buildings once more, briefly allowing a small subconscious smile of his own to touch his lips. The breeze ruffled his untidy hair and tugged at his greatcoat as he took in the sight of his Brotherhood, untouched by the calamity, working at full capacity.

Thank the gods that this place didn’t get touched. We don’t have much left after the war, and thanks to that bastard Arius the money is not as limitless as it used to be…

For not the first time that day, Shinsou turned to contemplate the wellbeing of Felicity Rhyolite, who was gazing around the township, presumably taking it all in. Dismounting, he extended a hand to the young redhead, and helped her off Chamomile. She still seemed to be trembling somewhat, so the Telgradian decided to talk.

“Here, let me help. The first thing that happens when either myself or Storm Veritas return to Whitevale is that the gatekeepers deliver something called a “gate report”, detailing current and past events. Loren and Durandal are my gatekeepers – you’ll notice they are elven, hailing from Raiaera. That’s quite a rare thing here. They were refugees that came to Corone after Xem’zund’s campaign in Raiaera. They’ve made here their home.”

The faint chatter of the two elves in the tower above became louder as Loren and Durandal both slid down the ladders and joined the Telgradian and Neanderthal pair. Loren was shorter than Durandal by half a foot; light skinned, dark haired and blue eyed. Durandal was burly for an elf, his less than slight frame bulkened further by rugged armour that covered his chest and legs, but had the same hair and eyes as his sister. They both carried bows on their back, and dipped in tandem at the waist to Shinsou, who gestured towards Felicity.

“Loren, Durandal, this is Felicity Rhyolite. She’s going to be training with us until further notice.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” Loren almost whispered, holding her arm out as Durandal spread his arms out away from his armour, and followed suite. “Shinsou, I have a couple of things to report, if I may?”

“Sure, fire away.” Shinsou said gently, and as he did so, Loren’s eyes swivelled upwards. Durandal’s followed, and their expressions suddenly dropped. They had not been the only one to spot the danger, either. High up the town, the tolling of an alarm bell began and soon Shinsou’s attention was directed to the skies above Whitevale.

It was then that The Telgradian first noticed the dark, low-lying shadow above the southern outskirts of the city. It hadn’t been there a moment ago, he realised, as his sharp mind suddenly jolted him into life. It was the only solid mass of black in an otherwise grey and unremarkable sky, and the mass was moving swiftly towards them, against the wind.

With its wings outstretched.

By then, Loren and Durandal were already dashing for the guard’s bell. The agility with which they managed to tumble out of formation and sure-footedly climb the guard platform was quite astonishing. The Loren took the second-half of the journey up to the top platform – in one nimble leap worthy of an Olympian – was even more breath taking. And the skill she displayed in transferring her momentum into a light-footed landing followed by an easy draw of her bow was astonishing.

“Shinsou,” she gasped to him, her long, black hair wafting in the wind before finally deigning to settle about her shoulders. “It’s Drexel!”

Drexel. Shinsou frowned at the name. Since the calamity, the lands around the world had harboured all manner of deadly creatures living outside of their normal habitats, a result of the climate shifting, so wild dragons were just one of a series of recurring problems. This one, a frost dragon, now roamed the skies above Whitevale. Instead of flame, this winged nightmare would spit torrents of near absolute-zero ice that would freeze anything into lifelessness. Normal frost dragons were relatively docile and usually native only to Salvar, but the cooling of the world since the volcanic eruption had turned them into horrifically violent predators and driven them south, now apparently to Corone. With ice-plated wings strong enough to keep them aloft for days without rest, and distended mouths filled with sharp icy fangs dripping with nitrogen, they were amongst the worst types of beast to be attacked by. It was especially dangerous, though, as Drexel wasn’t wild; he belonged to Arius Mephisto, the powerful man who betrayed Shinsou and the Brotherhood for their perceived weakness at Radasanth.

“Is Arius up there?!” Shinsou demanded to know.

“No. Drexel’s been hunting alone, preying upon villagers and travellers; for the past two weeks, probably waiting for an opportunity to attack here,” Durandal shouted down from the second tier, bow also drawn, “Arius isn’t stupid enough to show up here.”

“Looks like you’re coming into the deep end with me,” Shinsou turned and told Felicity, trying not to let the pallid chill show too much upon his face. “I'll fill you in on this later, but this is one of Arius Mephisto's familiars. We need to get Drexel out of the sky, and quick, otherwise this is going to be a very short apprenticeship.”

Behind them, there was heavy thud and a noisy clink of metal as the ballistas began shooting their spears into the sky above Whitevale.

Drexel? Arius? None of this made sense. Felicity had the sense that she was thrust into a world of unfamiliarity. Still, she got the gist of the present situation. Dragon bad. Whitevale and the surrounding areas needed protected from this tamed, yet dangerous, flying lizard.

Felicity yanked her suppies bag off of Chamomile and patted the horse briefly before dashing after Shinsou. He darted towards the tall, wooden gates which a dragon could just breath on and tear down with flame. As they ran, Felicity pulled her quiver of arrows out and hung them on her belt, trying not to trip on her bag as she managed the clips on her belt. The long, cold road ahead of them was deserted. Maybe, the farm back there was abandoned not just because of the chilly ash clouds. Perhaps this dragon had something to do with it as well. Felicity finally pulled her war bow out with beamed. As Shinsou skidded to a halt next to several spear men, took advantage of the pause. Setting her bow down, she pulled out all her weaponry. Dagger, swords, all of it. She hung her smaller bow on her back and clipped her three bladed weapons to her waistline.

Before the dry dust from Shinsou's abrupt halt even faded, Felicity stood up again. She pulled out an arrow and looked up as Shinsou commanded the men nearby. Voices cried out as a four legged serpent flew with a tough, strongly built body. The beast was grey from the underbelly and legs, yet the horned head was dark blue in color. Was the top blue as well? No matter. It was quite a large beast, larger than the elephants of Dheathien. How it flew, she was unsure. All she knew was that this creature was likely strong enough to resist the regular bow and arrow. She looked down at her war bow. It was made of stronger wood... it was worth a shot.

She picked it up and pulled the string back. She was above the rank of a beginner in terms of skill, but archery was still not her best practice. Still, with the thought of Shinsou watching her, she aimed for the hopefully delicate eyes and let go of the string.

The wind began to pick up. A sense of strange magic was in the air, and it pricked her the wrong way. Was this dragon corrupt? Her arrow completely missed the dragon, while the ballista bolts simply started to deflect from the scales. Felicity growled, looking back as Shinsou in desperation as the air grew unusually cold for even this apocalyptic weather.

As black haired woman, dressed in a dark cloak, suddenly popped up in her mind.

She gasped, dropping her bow as she shook her head. Goosebumps formed on her neck as she felt a surge of magic from in front of her. A loud thud slammed the ground. Earthquake level waves caused the dirt and mud coated ground to vibrate as Felicity struggled to hold her ground. A low hiss was heard from behind her. For some reason, the beat had landed. She held her head as she turned around. The beast was how many feet ahead of her?

Biting her lip, she stared with wide eyes. Felicity called out to Shinsou. "Arrows and spears aren't working!"

Shinsou watched as Felicity’s arrows bounced harmlessly off of Drexel’s tough, permafrost coated scales, and shook his head at the girl to signify to stop. The howl of the wind and the race of freezing air that rushed towards them, generated only from the heaving lungs of the dragon, made mockery of the temperate surroundings and covered the leaves, dying grass and concrete parapets in a film of glistening white. The Telgradian, shivering slightly, noticed erratically shifting illumination of Drexel’s aura through his spirit sense, the only tangible sign that something else was in play; the dragon’s control of the frigid air was effectively creating a barrier of cold between it and its enemies.

“Projectiles won’t work here, Felicity,” He said as his eyes fixated upon the grounded behemoth, searching for a weakness, “Look closely. Every time it breaths, it huffs out a powerful cloud of icy vapor. That vapor turns frigid and creates a distortion of air around it. Anything we throw or fire at it will simply bend around it, or drop. At least at the front.”

Suddenly, the huge beasts eyes flashed open, and stared right at the Telgradian, as if suddenly aware of the threat. Bloodshot, lifeless and dull, they swiveled around as a clawed foot dug into the earth, scuffed ivory talons digging into the barren soil. It sought to entrench itself, and Shinsou knew exactly why. The dragon’s mouth, filled with thousands of razor sharp teeth, gaped open grimly. An icy, frozen light maintained itself for a moment of stony silence.

Shit.

Shinsou somehow regained control over his body and thought quickly, moving his hands in a frenzied dance and his lips in a series of incantations. The magic he wove leaked in erratic waves and pulses from his beleaguered mind to his hands, finishing with his palms outstretched as if he were pushing against a wall.

There was a gargantuan cyan flash from Drexel’s maw as a powerful torrent of ice ripped up the earth in front of the dragon and tore towards the pair. As the beam smashed against the translucent surface of Shinsou’s Severing Void, it was difficult to distinguish between which of the two magics had prevailed; merging as they did into a meaningless, senseless blender of light and noise. It was only when the harsh, subzero deluge dissipated that anyone could differentiate between the two. Shinsou stood, albeit breathless, in front of a shattered magic barrier; one that crumbled into dust as its arcane structure failed. The Telgradian felt a flare of pain; cramped legs complaining at the abusive force of Drexel’s vicious attack.

The young man clung to the pain as a drowning man clutched at driftwood. That pain meant he was still alive.

“We have to get through that barrier. We have to get it to stop breathing…or melt that ice.”

Gingerly Shinsou shifted his weight, feeling the inherent chill biting at his ears and attempting to seep through his clothing. He looked at Felicity, who looked back at him forlornly.

“That power of yours, that heat you generate. We need it, kid. My dark matter won’t penetrate that cold, and my sword and arm will freeze in it long before it reaches those scales.”

Ice.

She saw ice.

The air was chilled and bitter. Frost spewed from its mouth.

Ice.

Ice.

Ice.

Icebreaker...

Felicity's breathing hastened as her heart rate increased rapidly. The world seemed to fade into a blurred distance as the ice taunted her, standing in front of her like an unbreakable fortress.

"That power of yours..." Shinsou’s voice echoed from beyond. With wide, frightened eyes Felicity barely locked onto him. She barely heard him from far away.

"We need it, kid."

Felicity glanced back at the monster in front of her. The ice breathing dragon that horrified her with its mere existence. She was unaware that she was stepping backwards, her head shaking no as her pale skin broke out in a sweat. "No, no no..." She saw the same face over and over again. The same murderer, the same woman hell bent on ridding the world of all evil but her own. Icebreaker. Ice. Ice. Ice.

Her thoughts were hijacked by her traumas, returning to beat her down. She knew Shinsou needed her, but all she could think of was someone else, someone in the past. Tears streamed down her cheeks as her lips parted, echoing. "Ayleth... Ayleth, no..."

Her magic affinity picked up on the flaring of magic. This dragon was aiming another shot. Behind the ice, the dragon chilled the air further as it lifted a large front leg and stepped atop the wall of frozen water. Claws gripped it as it pulled itself up, glaring past the feeble party and towards the gate. It's jaws parted.

From behind Felicity, most of the soldiers fled. One man stood, watching Shinsou crumple and Felicity panic. As Felicity hyperventilated, the man dropped his bow as she shouted. "Lord Osiris gave you an order, kid! Go on!"

The air grew frosty and bitter. Temperatures dropped lower than they already had as the mouth of the beat glowed.

"Kid!" The man shouted, "Whatever you can do, do it now!"

Felicity's arms fell limp as she glanced up at the dragon. She was ready for another beating. Ready to be hit again, told she was worthless. "I'm sorry..." Felicity's voice echoed, haunted and somewhere else, "Stop... please..."

"It's gonna kill us!"

A distant cry was heard from the gate. A younger voice. Terror, fear of death. Once again, Felicity was reminded of the task at hand. She remembered, from a deep crevice of sane memory, a time when she was frozen like this, just to bleed.

Her hand twitched.

As the dragon was ready to spew a second beating, a single bolt from the siege weapons fired a desperate shot. It managed to strike to eye. A lucky shot, but a needed one. The magic instantly died as the beast flinched and turned away. A weaker blast slipped from it's mouth, dripping into the side of the ice sheets already formed like liquid. As a cry echoed from it, Felicity lifted her hand to her mouth. She parted her lips as the same images kept flashing before her eyes. Ice. Ashla. Ashla. Ashla. Her tears still fell as she placed her hand between her teeth, then bit down.

Visions of blue churned to red.

A complete snap shifted in her mind. Bolstered anger, desperate for the feeling of violence, unnaturally took over her mind. She eyed the ice.

"We need it, kid."

"Whatever you can do, do it now!"

"It's going to kill us!"

She bit down again. And again. And again. Until the blood dripping from a mutilated hand was accompanied by a burning cloak of magical, nuclear energy. She saw in red. She saw the ice. How dare this dragon come here! How dare it threaten these lives! How dare it turn its ice wielding eyes on her and strike her mentality! It needed to pay! Pay! Through the ice! Through the ice!

The force of destruction bolted towards the ice, slamming into it with everything she had. Insane strength, immunity to pain, and the heat of a roaring fire. The ice hissed as she punched, kicked, barreled into it. Clouds of steam rose as she bleed again from chips of ice, only bolstering her more. Blinded by her rage based powers, she pushed on. Her energy was working as the ice of the dragon hissed and melted.

Yet, the question could be raised... was she too late?

There it was; that suppressed power, unleashed, like the force of a thousand suns exploding outwards. Drexel and Felicity were each but a hazy blur to him through the sickly mixture of cyan and crimson auras as ice and fire battled for supremacy in front of the Whitevale entrance. Suddenly, that familiar, lightheaded feeling came over Shinsou again, the one that he had felt from the Citadel the first time he had seen Felicity in this form.

Shit, I’d forgotten about the sickness. Better get back.

As he felt the girl’s untamed power throbbing through his body, making him dizzy, the Telgradian retreated back through the iron gates for respite. The further he got away, the less Felicity’s ability affected him, or at least he had found, but he needed to be within touching distance of Drexel for his next plan to work. He looked back, watching through his spirit sense as Rhyolite’s radiation and her barrage of rage-fuelled attacks began to chew a hole through Drexel’s barrier. It was so enormous, so corrosive that the Telgradian found it disquieting to behold, and he nearly slipped through distraction as he scaled the ladder of the gate’s guard tower to the right of the town’s entrance, to the floor currently occupied by Durandel and Loren.

Loren flashed a look at him as he entered the tower, as Durandel nocked another arrow.

“What the hell is going on, boss?” She demanded to know as the twang of a bowstring accompanied Durandel’s latest failed attempt to pierce the barrier.

“Stop shooting at it; save your arrows. There’s a barrier,” Shinsou commanded, pointing towards Rhyolite, “Her energy is eating through it like acid right now. I’ve got a plan, but I need to focus.”

The Telgradian closed his eyes. He knew that the hole Felicity was making was just wide enough for what he had planned, but he needed to be as accurate as possible to avoid killing her along with the dragon. There was little margin for error.

He could see the opening in the barrier, just shy of Drexel’s throat. The incantation he needed to access Danzetsu repeated itself in the darkness within the confines of his head, until all that remained was a single bright flame, dancing gracefully in the midst of a voidal calm. The carefully contained transformation had yet to come easily to him, even after many months of training, but with some effort the the familiar black whorls of arcane energy began to envelop him entirely as his body changed. Loren and Durandel had never seen Shinsou’s final form before, and were stunned by the difference. The metamorphosis gave him sculpted musculature, with black sclera and waist length dark hair. It felt as if the pressure of the power emanating from him was forcing itself on them, making them feel as if they were succumbing to a g-force that would otherwise be impossible to experience for a normal human with no technological or magical assistance.

“Get back.” He commanded his peers, who obliged without hesitation.

He raised his hand up, outstretching two fingers on his right hand. At the tips, an orb of marbled black and dark green the size of a fist formed, churning and rotating on its axis like a planet knocked off its axis. The Oscuras was a thin, powerful particle beam of dark matter, slender enough to fit between Felicity’s body and the frayed edges of the disintegrating barrier but powerful enough to pierce Drexel’s throat and prevent it from regenerating the ice field. With an electrical snap, the orb shattered and stretched into a pencil thin black beam, ripping through the air at terrifying speed. A scent of heavy metals filled the air as beam tore past Felicity and pierced Drexel’s throat, causing the beast to madly thrash. The frighteningly powerful dragon tried to gulp for air, partially successfully, but liquid nitrogen spewed forth from the wound in torrents. As the fluid touched the ground, it instantly smothered the soil with harsh ice crystals, accompanied by an audible hiss.

I got the throat, but not cleanly, Shinsou lamented as he watched Felicity try to dodge the wildly flailing tail of the dragon, That won’t kill him. Maybe it’ll stop the barrier, though.

With no further hesitation, Shinsou leapt from the tower onto the wall below, and then back down onto the frost encrusted floor. He knew the radiation sickness would affect him here, but he had one more idea.

“Felicity,” He yelled over the ruckus of Drexel’s howls of pain, “Get your sword in that wound and pull down as hard as you can! Cut his throat! Your heat should protect you from the liquid nitrogen!”

Destroy it! Kill it!

Blurry red, that was what she raw. The ice was broke, yet she rarely noticed as she slammed into the dragon. Did the dragon have a hole? And opening? She reached out with bare, battered hands and pulled it, yanked it... blind rage dedicated to destroying anything within her vision.

The blue scaled were barely noticeable. Steam and flame swirled around as the explosive heat roared. Tunnel vision. Hazy red. The attacks, aimed for a wound that somehow got there, may had been feeble. Yet all rational thinking and cognitive function was out the window. More dragon's blood added more crimson to the acid trip in her mind.

Die! Die!

She was focused in a blur of insanity at the dragon. She saw nothing else. Felt nothing else. Tasted nothing. Heard- ... heard... Wild gibberish floated in the air. A voice. Words she could not comprehend. She only heard the voice. What was that voice? What did it say? She turned, head cranked in a bizarre angle as through the tunnel of ice, she saw a figure. Who was it? What was it? It did not matter. Rage told her one thing, one thing only. Attack.

A hoarse shout escaped her mouth. The drool slipping from her lips quickly evaporated in the cloak. She saw red. Nothing but red. Nothing but the figure standing too close. Attack! She started to charge through the tunnel, wild and without form. The ice melted even further as water dripped onto the ground. Dry dirt was churned into mud. The mud sprayed as the force of pure wrath bolted towards whatever figure dared to stand there, waiting for punishment at rage's bloodied hands.

She exited the tunnel, nearing the figure. She outstretched her twitching hand, then - sickness.

Felicity skidded to a halt, shocked by a wave of sudden nausea. She dropped on her knees, vomit spewing from her mouth as the pain of her hand suddenly throbbed. Her vision was still blurred and bright, but the red was gone. As her stomach emptied, questions entered her mind. Where was she? What had she been doing before all this? She shook, then eyes widened as she heard a familiar roaring from the background. A dragon.

It all came back to her. She turned around, still kneeling. She saw that the ice wall, so formidable, had a massive, melted hole through it. Further more, the dragon was bleeding and wounded. Not dead, but obviously distraught. Its wings curled as it started stepping back, hissing at its attackers. Once again, it took to the skies.

As the blue ice dragon arose, Felicity was filled with strange awe. "Did I do that..."

Then, she remembered. There was something else too. She saw something else too, got close to attacking that. She turned around, hot and feverish despite the bitter cold. As the pale woman looked up, she was overcome with shock. "Sh-Shin-"

Shinsou was inches in front of her, looking down with a face that said it all.

Another bout of nausea caused her to throw up again. Meanwhile, the dragon loomed over them.

The sight of Felicity crumbling to her knees, overcome at last by the sheer force of her own ability, told Shinsou Vaan Osiris that it was time for him to step in.

There was a rawness in his sculpted chest at the sight of the shimmering beast painfully struggling in the air above them, liquid nitrogen spilling in rivulets from its wound and crystalising into hailstones the size of small rocks that smashed into Whitevale below. The Telgradian watched, almost entranced by the way that the dragon’s distended jaws poured forth a torrent of subzero steam. Roaring azure poetry caught the edges of Drexel’s scales.

“Shinsou!” a sudden cry from some of the guards at the gate tore Osiris from his hypnotic stare. Chaos reigned all around the pair. Dust, freezing vapour and screams wrestled through the air, each fighting against one another to catch the more notice from the panicked bystanders of Whitevale. Horror and death poured out of the residential area and from the surrounding streets. Hundreds of humans and others of various races clawed to get away from the doom which froze the stone around them.

Shinsou Vaan Osiris spat a vicious, gutteral snarl . The strength of his now inhuman body sent the back of his hand into the ice wall ahead of him out of frustration for their situation. He felt a wet, crumpling pop as the sheet disintegrated, splintering into a thousand slippery fragments that scattergunned into the fields behind. A handful of fleeing bystanders stopped long enough to gape, but they too were swarmed by the mob pressure building up behind them. No one stopped to help the fallen.

Another draconic scream roared from overhead as Drexel cried out in pain. Osiris turned back to the dragon, the raw primal power he exuded from his Danzetsu transformation throbbing through his very being. Sudden rage, furious and cold, burst from the depths of the Telgradian’s core. A tidal surge of force shot through him as the power of Starflare Pulsar, swelling at his palms into a number of dangerously unstable dark matter orbs, coursed through every fiber of Osiris’s being. New screams of terror and panic rang out as Drexel spewed forth another blue stream of artic ice, ripping the flesh off of a patrol of guards and reducing a section of the Brotherhood headquarters to icy rubble.

The incantation was never heard, but its effects were immediate. Seven orbs of dark matter materialized above the black core of the winged reaper above, swirling and orbiting before suddenly simultaneously striking the golitath with such force that everything within two hundred feet shook violently. With a violent howl, Drexel fell from the sky and hit the floor with a sickening thud.

As the Telgradian stumbled slightly, the chaotic aftermath quickly became apparent. A swirling, oily mist drifted around a heap of crumpled, twisted flesh that once comprised the frost dragon. Amongst the devastated carcass were scales that had crumpled like paper from the force of the gravitational attack. Warped bone and indistinguishable blue and black steaming entrails now lay in ruinous piles around the edges of a breach almost fifty feet across the Whitevale perimeter wall. The gloomy cloud of residual dark magic made it difficult for Shinsou to make anything out beyond Drexel's dead body, but he had used this spell before, and knew the destruction would have eaten another fifty feet into the Whitevale boundaries.

Turning slowly back to Felicity, his lungs heaving and his muscles aching with the sheer effort of both the conjuring and sustaining of his transformation, Shinsou watched the power peel away from him as his body reverted back to its normal form. He cast his eyes over a watching Brotherhood. Some of the horses in the square had bolted, whilst others had spooked and brayed harshly. The garrison seemed slightly rattled, but began attending to their duties and readied the medics in preparation.

As he approached the exhausted, spent redhead under his tutelage, she winced, almost expecting some sort of retribution.

“Sorry for stepping in too late. I wanted to see what you could do,” Shinsou admitted as he limped past the sick girl and clasped a hand on her shoulder, “You did well, today. That beast was as dangerous as they come, and you punched a hole right through his defences. I had to throw everything I had at him to keep the big bastard down. Get yourself checked over, and come to my quarters when the surgeon gives you the all clear.”

The battle had raged beyond, yet Felicity was unable to focus. Her gaze was cast to the ground, where the remains of her stomach’s contents was. The bitter cold swirled around both body and mind. Full blown panic caused her to shake as her psyche drifted away from Whitevale.


I almost killed him! My mentor! I couldn’t control it!

As the fight between Shinsou and Drexel went on in the distance, the destruction of buildings and cries of people fell on deaf ears. She was sweating intensely, appendages growing numb.

He’s going to hate me now! I should of done better! He’ll let me go, I know it! I’m useless!

The words of others echoed in her mind. Words of her pitiful state, her woes. Chants of hatred from the faceless crowds of Eiskaltians. Malice and bitter judgment from a woman of pain and frost. They all told her the same thing. She was incapable, she should do better, her efforts were worthless. She was worthless. What good was a half breed, neanderthal scum who could not control her animalistic self?

The mighty dragon fell as Shinsou, powerful he was, brought it down. Felicity did not react. Head lowered, her thoughts were racing with panic and misery. When this was over, how would she be punished? She was always punished, deserving nothing else. She was useless, a forbidden wretch born from tragedy. Her tears started to clear as she noticed the frost coated ground once more. The frigid atmosphere was dry and devoid of comfort. The girl sat there, tangled hair covering her tear streaked face.

Footsteps.

Felicity blinked, noticing brown boots stepping towards her. Boot prints were left in the white, crystalline ground. Heavy and burdened, the walk was of a slight limp. Looking up, she saw the signature white coat. She was unable to look at his face as she winced, trembling. Here he was, to scorn her. Just like the rest.

“Sorry for stepping in too late. I wanted to see what you could do.” Her eyes widened as he stepped past her before bending down. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. The light touch made her shiver. Confusion. What…

“You did well, today…” Was he praising her? What was this?

“… Get yourself checked over, and come to my quarters when the surgeon gives you the all clear.”

He was telling her to get well. Her mind was a strange blank as the man stood up again, walking away. Confliction caused her to blink in confusion, tears still falling. “You’re not mad at me?” Her shadow of a voice was timid and scared, quiet and full of doubt. She was not used to this. She was used to verbal lashes, stones and rotted fruits pelted from the streets of an eternal winter village. She was used to the beratings of a cruel executioner, the heavy slammings of her sword’s pommel on her body. She was used to… anything but this.

She was terrified she was somehow hallucinating this. She had hallucinations before. She was scared too that this was so, so undeserved…

Quote:

---

A day later

---

The gathered subordinates of Whitevale looked on in anticipation as Shinsou contemplated carefully what he was going to say, cognizant of the empty chair that had been reserved for Felicity Rhyolite. A lot of what he wanted to speak of concerned her directly, but his words for her would have to wait. The girl had given everything in her first real taste of action alongside him, and the surgeon's report to him that morning confirmed it with a diagnosis of fatigue, so she would need a great deal of rest.

It would be rest that was well deserved.

He reached to pour himself a glass of whisky before swirling the contents and gulping it. He felt that was deserved, too. Setting the empty glass on the table in front, he looked up and found his subordinates' eyes across the oak surface.

“Gentlemen, I will keep this short, but first I'd like to start by putting on record my thanks for yesterday's work .” The Telgradian said, stroking his fingers through his stubble before continuing. “Drexel's assault meant a lot of collateral damage was done to local infrastructure, and as a result, sadly, there were numerous fatalities. That these were numbered in the tens, instead of hundreds, is testament to the efficiency and effectiveness of our people. The funerals for those who courageously gave those lives will take place as soon as our coroner can clear them.”

The summoned generals and lieutenants nodded in silent respect. Shinsou leaned forward after a moment, interlocking his fingers in front of him and resting his elbows on the polished oak, "Now, I'm going to be very clear, and very concise on my next order. Within forty-eight hours, I want the following on my desk. I want a list of Arius's currently suspected whereabouts. I want a list of his other known familiars and associates. I want Storm Veritas called in from whatever shithole bar, inn or brothel he is in, and back here as quickly as Atilla can carry him."

"So, we're finally moving against Arius?" One of the generals picked up a pen and tapped its end against the table.

The Telgradian mused for a second, hoping his delay wasn’t too telling. Though his own people demanded it, Shinsou couldn’t commit to a full assault against his former right hand man directly, as much as he hated to admit it. There was too much conjecture about Arius's whereabouts for a definitive strike or operation. The man wasn't stupid, and had been using assumed names and aliases, a large chain of contacts and connections and Brotherhood gold to avoid detection and move in the shadows.

That said, he knew he could hit the bald headed bastard in other ways. Drexel was one of several powerful familiars that Arius had kept around since the calamity and sent out to do his bidding. Their deaths would serve as both a potent reminder and a warning to the traitor that the net was closing on him, and that his days were numbered. It would also deplete the man's ability to strike from hiding, and the Telgradian was certain that a final flourish against his underworld links, especially those financing him, would flush him out of anonymity.

"We're moving against every resource Arius Mephisto has that we know about,” Shinsou said smartly, sliding a look to the general, "We're going to start by hunting down any remaining familiars, and simultaneously hit his pocket by severing his ties to Corone's criminals. That's why I want as much information as possible - I can't make bricks to crush him without clay. ”

The Telgradian used the moment’s pause to assess the mood. There seemed to be a healthy enough appetite for revenge, and the shared looks and vigorous nodding around the table told him he had support. He didn't need it, but it always helped if everyone was pulling in the same direction. With that, the powerful spellsword donned his coat again from the rear of the chair, a draught biting his skin as he hustled around.

"Sorry to interrupt, Shinsou, but I have a question. I appreciate this may not be the time, but..." One of the congregation, a middle ranked officer from the infantry, raised a hand.

"Go on?" Shinsou nodded.

"We counted two senior officers amongst the dead; a general and a captain. Currently that means that our 95th Foot doesn't have a commanding officer. Do you have any recommendations for a replacement?"

Shinsou paused for a moment, before his eyes flitted to Rhyolite's empty chair.

"Indeed I do. I choose to promote Felicity Rhyolite."

The proposal was met with abject silence, followed closely by a number of confused exchanges and then finally a buzz of low pitched murmuring. The general consensus became very clear, very quickly; the upper echelons of the Brotherhood's elite were appalled.

"Sir, if I may," one of the cavalry's commanding officers now spoke, a bemused look etched upon his creased, ageing brow, "There are many hard working, loyal men and women in the ranks who would make suitable replacements, men and women who have given everything for us for years. I don't doubt you, but I think we can all agree that the issues of trust and respect factor highly in this-"

"You are correct." Shinsou interrupted, his raised hand staying the voices of disapproval, "...in that the issues of trust and respect do factor very heavily in my thinking. That, commander, is why you will continue to trust and respect in my decision making, for I do not make appointments like these lightly. I mean this with the utmost respect, sir, but please do not flatter yourselves into thinking you can divine my motives. There is a reason for everything I do, however unapparent. I ask for your trust in this choice."

The officer sat back, eyes shifting between his comrades and his leader. With a respectful nod, he slid further into his chair and tapped a pen against his palm. The voices of discontent quietened once more.

It seemed like madness to everyone else, but the Telgradian was confident he knew what he was doing. This would be the beginning of the making of his apprentice and the serving forces; a calculated move that would likely create tension in the ranks, at first, no doubt. But under his guidance, and with the pressure of the men under her, the Neanderthal would become something far beyond her own image of herself, and his own men would know something of loyalty.

She slammed her fist into the wooden beam, causing it to crack like shattering glass from the weight of her blow. Her muscled arm was throbbing, hand protected by a thick leather glove to avoid accidental cuts. Her entire outfit, a thick covering outfit, was to prevent those types of accidents while she was in the medical wing. Still, it was obvious as day that she had tons of pain, converted to rage, as she stayed here longer.

"No! You won't! You can't!"

The doctor holding the papers eyed her with a blank face, unaffected by her little temper tantrum. As Felicity glared into his eyes with such intensity, he simply started to neaten his stacks of paper. "I can and will, Miss Rhyolite."

Her body seemed to twitch in response, her face softening in a plea, desperate desire to appear strong. "But- I just got promoted! You can't!"

He pushed his glasses on his face, picking up the papers from the medical table. As Felicity stood in the corner of the room, fuming, the rest of the white, clean checkup room was in perfect condition aside the wooden beam she just decimated. After long silence, he placed the neatened papers on the table again. Then, he pulled his white coat over his body. "If you really desire help, Rhyolite, you will need to let your teacher know of your diagnosis."

"What diagnosis?" She was stubborn. For the first time, the man glared in disapproval as she crossed her arms, looking away dismissively.

"Felicity," He sighed, "You are ill in the head. You know it, you let us see it. You need to heal."

She looked back at him, slits for eyes, "So why isn't your medication working?" She spat.

He sighed, picking up the papers again. "This will take way longer to heal than any other wounds, Rhyolite. We went over this."

Once again, anger hissed like steam from a heart coated in cracked ice as she threw her arm, "Why tell him though?!"

"Because he needs to know!" The man shouted back, "As the leader of the Brotherhood he deserves it!"

"But it will make me look weak!"

"So what!"

She stopped, looking away again in clear dismay. She shook, looking down in boiling agony. She could not look weak. She needed to prove herself! Even from the medical wing, she received the news that she was promoted to General. She needed to be out in the barracks, with her new troops, proving her worth. Instead, the doctors kept her cooped up here for two extra days to evaluate her. Not physically, but mentally. The results shook her, and she was still in denial. As the silent, white room awaited the release of tension, she shook.

The doctor spoke again, more gently. "I promised you would get well again, child. But it will take steps." He narrowed his eyes at the girl, "Let others in."

For a long moment, silence. She stood there, eyes hidden by shadow as she slumped in defeat. Her head was such a mess. So much! She...

She turned back to the beam without warning. The rest of the white painted beam was torn straight from the wall, thrown to the ground as she screamed. As she brought her boot down upon it, repeatedly, she released rare curses into the air in all her fear and anger. After several shocking seconds of the display, she stopped. Kicking the splintered wreck across the room, she spat her answer back. "Then give Osiris the damn medical papers! Fine!"

She raised her fist again, slamming it into the concrete wall. The doctor watched her familiar display of sickness. This girl was not well.

I have so many doubts on Osiris' decision to promote her. She not only is new here, but is unready with her current mental state. We have diagnosed the PTSD, but what else? Anger issues are another problem. He shook his head, sadness overtaking him as he walked towards the door. She is not the only one. Many Brotherhood soldiers also are diagnosed with this. But unlike them, her traumas were not from the front lines.

He opened the door, sighing. I became a doctor to help people. So, I do feel upset when they don't want help so they can save face.

He closed the door, leaving the disturbed patient behind to brood.

“The diagnosis is clear, Shinsou. I can't lie to you. I have deep concerns about this and I think they need addressing. ”

The chief medical officer of the Brotherhood, a well respected and liked man called Voss, had been with the Telgradian now for almost half an hour. Outside of the office window, the intermittent sound of soldier's chatter rang in Shinsou's ears as he tried to process the information being reported to him. The PTSD diagnosis on Felicity Rhyolite hardly came as a shock, but the fact that there was now an official medical opinion, and that someone outside of Shinsou's inner circle knew about it, was unsettling.

“Okay," Shinsou sighed, his arms folded as he stared out of the window. “I'm not a doctor, so you're going to have to walk me through this. In your opinion, what options do we have, medically speaking?”

“The main treatments for post-traumatic stress disorder are psychological therapies and medication. Traumatic events can be very difficult to come to terms with, but Felicity confronting her feelings and getting professional help from us is likely to be the only way of effectively treating the PTSD.” Voss took a long look at the report in his hand, thumbing through the pages with care.

“Not got a lot to work with here, have we?” Shinsou shrugged.

“I'll level with you. Putting her in command of the 95th and sending her out there is just about the worst thing for her,” Voss paused, rubbing her neck with the back of her hand, "But I appreciate your dilemma. You just made a very public, very bold statement by promoting her. You can't go back now."

Shinsou simply shrugged again. “I have no intention of going back. We need to find a way to manage this.”

“I mean this with respect, but don't be stupid. We're talking about years of therapy,” the doctor replied, “If you can't demote her, you have to bench her. If you bench her, she's no good to herself, you or us.”

“Do you think I don't know that?,” Shinsou’s tone sharpened. For the first time in a while, the Telgradian was faced with an almost unwinnable scenario, and it was starting to anger him. “With everything that's happened with Arius, right now, I need her out there, with me, with the men. But I know we have to look after her too. The two situations aren't compatible.”

“I can't believe I'm saying this, but there may be one other thing we can do,” Voss replied diffidently, a small frown playing about his lips as he examined Shinsou's glare. “...but it's a long shot, and ethically questionable on just about every level. I've always shot straight with you, Shinsou, but I'm not unsympathetic. That's why this would have to stay between us and we would absolutely need to get her permission.”

“What? Out with it, then.” Shinsou remarked.

“A few years ago, I was travelling with a woman from Akashima. She was practicing alternative medicine on veteran survivors from Pode's campaign in Raiaera.” Voss said, seeming lost in thought once more, a gaze lingering upon the farthest wall. "PTSD and shellshock were commonplace then, such were the horrors that Xem'zund inflicted on the world. We both saw some real evil out there. She helped to ease the burden on those closest to the action by altering their state of minds using elven magic. We're not talking about erasing anything here, but perhaps clouding the mind; a cotton guard against the trauma. But not a fix."

“So she would retain her memories?" The Telgradian murmured in reply, “What kind of effect would this have on her, and for how long?”

“Ever walked into a room and forgotten the reason why? Same thing. Only that she won't have the inclination to walk into the room, because it won't occur to her to do so. Time is a bit of a grey area, in my experience it could last anywhere between four weeks and three years.”

“…Did any of the Raiaeran veterans show any adverse side effects?” Shinsou asked.

“A small number failed, yes. Usually the weakest willed. But nothing comes with guarantees. You know this.”

“We can’t afford to fuck this up,” Shinsou kept his eyes focused on Voss now, “You have my permission as long as you get hers. You can fill me in later on the travel arrangements and details if she agrees. I'll be coming with you. Oh, and not a word breathed of this or the PTSD diagnosis to anyone outside this room. That's an order.”

“This suggestion will only be a temporary fix, Shinsou, you must understand,” Again Voss frowned, his tone more authoritative than before. “She'll still need the therapy and the medication to tackle the PTSD properly. This is just to get us through this situation, while Arius is out there and whilst everyone still gets used to the idea of her being a general.”

"Very well. Thank you, Voss." A knowing look exchanged, Shinsou sat back down in his chair as the good doctor left to attend to his work. As Voss returned to the relative normality of the medical world, the Telgradian agonised over whether or not he was doing the right thing, and hoped that whoever it was that governed the divine mechanics of his life was looking out for him this time.

Submitted Thread: Insane Mind Over Clear Matter
Judgement Type: Basic Rewards
Participants: Flamebird and Shinsou Vaan Osiris


Flamebird receives:

1050 EXP
100 GP

Shinsou Vaan Osiris receives:

1482 EXP
100 GP

Rewards to be added soon.

Rewards Added