The Redemption of Tylermande

[Storm Veritas]

(closed to Shinsou and Flamebird/Felicity)

The road before him was littered with small rocks and pits, most of which the great beast Attila strode over as if they were bits of dust and seams of well fit hardwoods. The wide black back of the muscular steed swung a bit side to side, tilting the seasoned sorcerer atop him about while steadily moving forward. Attila was no pony anymore, but seemed not to have aged a day in the years where the stubborn animal had dutifully served the crotchety old bastard in the saddle. As the heat gently lay into the tandem, the rider noticed a thick glob of saliva form at the rein and swing wildly before falling to the road in a disgusting plop.

“Enough, boy. Grab some shade and water.”

Storm Veritas somewhat gingerly dismounted his equine friend, rubbing the thick, coarse hair along the jawbone as he led the tired horse to a thick maple tree. He could barely pour water from his saddlebag to the pail before Atilla dove in, greedily pulling the water in a lapping process that looked impossible considering the very geometry of the thing.

Quite the life, my boy. Walk, eat, shit, sleep, and screw. Seize the day.

The wizard drank from his own bottle as he rested, rubbing the sore seat that had been bounced around for a few hours. It wasn’t so long ago that his life was ultimately no different than the one he lovingly mocked his horse for; times of carefree hedonism where his ability to grift and steal easily bankrolled a lifestyle where the bills were as simple as food, whiskey and whores. It was a time before he had found purpose.

A time before the Brotherhood.

His partnership with Shinsou Vaan Osiris had led to a great sense of belonging in the greater world. He had a grand plan, goals, and a central vision for a united, free Corone that was still in play. The failed siege of Radasanth had proven a brutal setback; he had lost many good men in this life’s ultimate goal. They hadn’t died in vain, he surmised, and he would dedicate his life to ensuring the continent was unified under the Brotherhood’s Flag.

A mission. A purpose. The aging wizard continued to pontificate as he ripped a few bites of dried meat from his satchel, watching as Attila absent-mindedly grazed on the tall grass. The sweet late-summer air welcomed him here as dusk approached, and the shadows grew long as he considered his path.

Recently, a great betrayal had turned this entire “mission” on its head. Arius Mephisto had conspired with a plan to assassinate both Storm and Shinsou, luring them to the docks in their hometown of Tylermande to strike in broad daylight. Shinsou nearly died, and in the chase Arius had proven historically lethal. Arius would die, but Tylermande had also been stricken by the assault, left damaged and short of goods. Veritas had set out south to ask for assistance, in the last town he wanted to head. Further, Shinsou was there again, and had asked for help. The Telgradian was literally the only person upon Althanas that could call in such a favor.

”Fucking Whitevale. Why is he in Whitevale? Why does Whitevale have to have the best building supplies outside of Radasanth? The only place in the world that might hate me more than Radasanth does.”

The great black eye of Attila offered no consideration for the question, choosing instead to relieve himself in a mighty pile by the thick, peeling bark of the large tree. Whitevale had been the Brotherhood’s first conquest; a tremendous coup that ended in misery as an insurrection led to fire and death. He had helped to quell the larger danger to the city, but appreciation was lost as the duo was inextricably tied to stress, strife, and harm. To Attila, it meant nothing more than poorly prepared food and an irritated master. The electromancer smiled, on a knee as he bundled a few handfuls of felled twigs to use for kindling. Storm continued to work, lazily laying out his tent components and eyeing the skies for cloud cover. They would be dry tonight; Whitevale would be happy to rain on his parade in the morning.