Completed [Seasonal Quest] Upon a Star (Open)

[Eridanus]

Eridanus dipped his head in apology when his suggestion was rebuked harshly. He supposed that there was no need to be condescending, but hard times tested people greatly, and pressure often made people nastier than they were supposed to be.

"I am not knowledgeable regarding Reimancy," He qualified in response, "If so, we must seek better alternatives."

The group discussed for several moments, when Alluvia mentioned her ability to help. Suddenly, bridge after bridge formed, identical copies of each other as they created a connected span across the lava and into the castle. Eridanus whistled in appreciation as he saw what was happening, though he could not feel the brush of magic from Alluvia. It was something else, perhaps the potency of illusions that facilitated imagination to reality. He would have to ask her about it later on if they survived this whole ordeal.

A group of men rushed out of the castle and onto the bridge, and the ethaefal recognized them to be Silencers - one third of the Womiyu and the Triad's secret police. His sigh of relief at having reinforcements was cut short when he observed the ensuing exchange between the leader of this squad and Alluvia.

Betrayal!

Arrows whizzed pass and Eridanus jerked his head in the direction of it. Bob was already beginning to engage the Silencers, and Eridanus accepted his suggestion. Even if the midget had not suggested it he would have done so. The archer, or archers, were hidden by the stone fortifications of the wall, and it would be difficult to fight back. No, the offensive prowess of the slingshot would be more effective in creating Area of Effect damage on the antagonist squad ahead.

"I'm on it," He called out, raising his feet into the air and testing the boots gingerly. He imagined himself stepping on solid ground, and grinned as his feet stood solidly on pure air several inches above the ground. As he placed his other feet next to his floating one, his grin turned into a toothy beam as he realized that he was now hovering.

Despite the danger they were in, joy flooded his very being when he realized that he was no longer shackled by the physical rules of this mortal realm. Perhaps when he had time, he could properly research a method to reach the very heavens with these boots, but for now current concerns remain.

Taking the elemental's warning to heart, he sought an alternative route to the archer's hideout, eschewing the first thought of simply flying there. Instead, he used utilized his agility and detection, spotting several areas where he could use.

With that in mind, he leaped forth, using the top of the bridge as a base as he soared through the air, using his boots to grant him the extra 'double-jump' should he not have enough space while utilizing the top of the bridge as much as possible to travel and skip pass the silencers.

Upon reaching the castle, he stepped upwards, pushing his boots off the wall of the castle as he ran vertically upwards. He only used the power of the boots in every other step, essentially allowing him to execute an impossible wall-run up the slope of the castle while using the boots' ability as little as possible.

Tumbling through the air as he launched himself over the top of the castle, he drew both blades simultaneously as he landed behind the white-haired archer, ready to cut the man down and not clearly expecting the surprise that he would soon be receiving.

[Miro]

Miro had arrived in Alvadas and made it his home. Now it was in trouble, and they were relying on people he did not know. None of these people's hearts beat in tune with the city. Ionu was their guide now, yet all of them turned a blind eye. They either did not know or forsook Ionu's greatness. What was presented to them was a chance to serve the god, but all they did was serve themselves. At least the other man seemed capable. There was some hope for him yet. He believed in their goal, and in his own skills. Worrying about him was not necessary.

But one ugly issue remained here on the ground. The halfwit half-man was threatening Miro. To talk down on him, to spew such hatred. It was sickening. It caused the wizard to be taken aback. He slowly began to stagger backwards, looking at the ground. When it was finished, the little man continued on as if he had said nothing.

The world stopped in that instant. To be threatened and ridiculed in such a way. By this stranger who meant nothing in the eyes of Ionu. Surely this prophecy was misunderstood. This man was nothing but trash. Rage built in Miro's body. Animosity was all he could feel. All of his restraint slipped away, and despite his will to carry on their mission, all he could see was hate. Until he had his revenge, he could do nothing to help anybody.

The kid wizard began to flow his djed into and out of his arms. It would be transformed, becoming a liquid res that flowed out of his flesh. First, it would cover his hands and forearms, but he would not stop there. He continued to pull the fabric of his soul further, covering his biceps and shoulders. Continuing still, producing enough res so that it connected one arm to the other behind his back, only stopping when it was thick and in great abundance.

It seemed the trash was not entirely useless however. He had skills in reimancy. A familiar skill to Miro, putting the last nail in this man's coffin. Not only did he make threats, but it seemed he could back them up. But he was not the only one who could back up threats, oh no, not at all. It was time that this man learned to shut his mouth. It was apparent why Lhex had made him this height. No matter what he said, it was as if it should have been coming out one's arse.

Miro looked down, seeing the man who's attention rest on the Silencers. The other man had began to use his gift in a marvelous display, chasing after some target that was a mystery to the angry boy. His attention was only on the target that sat before him. Miro forced both hands forward, his palms open, directing his res to move forth. A few feet's distance lay between him and his target, the small man's back or chest, but any area would do, making the voyage of the res short.

A large sum of res was taken from each arm, roughly the size of his head. And if they would find their target, a transformation would ensue. The res would follow the man for all of eternity if that was what it took. His goal was set, and the moment it would land on his body, he would begin to transmute it into a forbidden element, that of lightning. Slowly, bit by bit he would transmute all away, willing the lightning to flow into the target. His control over it would be short lived, but he knew that it would count for something. He did not want to kill the man, but he did not want him to live either.

Though Miro was not sure what the element might do to a target, from his tests he found it to be terrifying. There was one instance in which Miro had been struck by a stray lightning bolt, however magical it was. In a flash he found himself overwhelmed by heat and in a different place. But that intense heat, it still burning crisp in his memory. Whatever this element would do to the man could not be good. If he did not learn his lesson from this, fire and ice also made good disciplinary tools.

Success and effectiveness were not guaranteed of course, meaning he must be ready for anything. Even if the man was killed in that instant, Silencers were on their way to attack. Miro called forth his res before him, in the shape of six equally sized balls. Though his gaze did not move off of his target, he spoke to Shale. "Shale, it looks like Alvadas wants a performance. Let's give them something to cheer about. Is that whip of yours for show, or is it for show?" Things had just gotten complicated, but as usual, he would overcome. One thing rest on his mind now. He wanted that slingshot. It was put into the wrong hands.

[Antar]

The rebels seemed to be of a higher caliber then Aceren originally expected. The dirty swine, how dare they! He was currently positioned just atop the buttress wall to the left of the main gates, moving from arrow slit to arrow slit trying to take targets of opportunity. Behind him the silencers which had accompanied Verlynna and him were waiting in the gatehouse above the portcullis, and he could smell the acrid taint of the oil boiling for the murder hole. These fools were inept to think that even if they beat the man below that the castle's defenses would fall so easily. For a brief second his eyes glanced towards the doorway to the gatehouse, catching Verlynna's beauteous orbs with his own as a sheer wave of pride and fury welled up in his breast. It was his job to protect the castle from these foul knaves, so that was what he would do! Sighing to release the pressure of air from his lungs he pulled the string back upon his ebonwood bow, sighting down towards what seemed to be a mage of some sorts. A quick draw, and a release shot another quarrel, just wide in reation to the foul winds blowing below, so he quickly drew another shaft. Cursing the vile sorceries of mages he resighted his aim as a shadow seemed to flit itself across his view, a gale of wind left behind in its passage as a small patterfall of feet landing upon stone came to his ears. Swiveling at the waist , his bow tracked the newest thread. In a brief instant his mind began taking within the vile countenance of a dark, and rabid slovenly haired beast with horns, the profile of a shadowy knave drawing two blades. What a vile creature! A threat, not just to his castle, but to his lady love herself. How dare these fools get so close! Chafing away a burr of anger in his throat he unleashed the arrow from its string while shouting to draw the attention of those silencers closeby as the vile heathenist rebel’s eyes fell upon his Aceren’s facial features as the rebel ducked under the arrow's path. Drawing his kukri, he brandished it towards the new foe, Heedless if there was any sign of recognition in Eridanus' eyes, Aceren shouted his battle cry.“For Honor, Glory, … and Women!!!!” Behind him, he could hear the patter of Silencer's boots upon stone. If Aceren could delay this bandited brute for just a second or two, then the castle's defenders might be able to surround the man, dragging him down to a sordid death... At least that was a faint hope, who knew? Fate might have a different set of circumstances up its sleeve.

[Bob Barton]

If Miro thought he was going to get another kill under his belt just to increase his (in)famy, he was wrong. Bob was a survivor and his inevitable death would come from some important event if not from an astounding individual that can earn the respect from him and everyone else. Not some spoiled brat who thought he is entitled to anything including the lives of others. Of course dying in bed from age would be good too, but only a great risk will bring a great reward to a gambler. Beds have no risk other than oversleeping. He was surprised initially when Miro turned around as Bob believed that his earlier challenge would stop the boy from running away and work properly with the team as he should. It was only when Miro did the strange action of raising his arm against Bob, it clicked. Eridanus said Miro was a reimancer and that was the only thing Bob thought he would be trying to do now. What a complete idiot to try and start some infighting when there are other enemies trying to kill them.

But Bob was not going to get killed by anyone today if he could help it. He reacted fast being in the prepared mentality of battle. It was a shame that two people were going to waste djed just for someone's ego but it cannot be helped. His only enemy now was Miro and Bob prepared to move himself. Applying his keen observational skills, Bob waited for his chance to dodge the brat's tantrum. He only had one chance and it better count because despite what Miro wanted, there was no way something can chase Bob for all eternity and hit. As it was Bob was in an intense focus of his own, staring at Miro as he also collected his own djed which may have started later but would complete faster than someone summoning two head fulls of it into his arm. Then, there it was! Another thing to help him. If all was right in the world, the arrow aimed for Miro will make a good distraction against Miro either breaking his concentration over his res or forcing him to throw off his aim altogether but Bob would not take any chances in case Miro somehow pulled off an unrealistic move.

Being a reimancer himself he knew how it worked and how it might look like. Bob watched with bent knees until the shimmering sight of raw untransmuted power begun to move from the boy's arms. As it launched, Bob started his mental count of the time Miro's res travelled and tried to estimate the time it would take to connect. He can only hope that it was right at...this...very...moment! Bob straightened up and launched himself backwards in time to feel the heat from the forbidden element as it passed, hoping that he was successful in dodging a fatal blow by lightning just because someone was acting childish. He shut his eyes as he tried to maintain his control over the djed in his mouth and fight his worries even as he crashed on the floor hoping that it might also serve for his second plan. To play dead until the time was right for him to reenter the battle. However this did not mean that going to let this go. It-was-on!

The plan was not going to discipline the boy. Miro was not worth it. Bob has trained even more feral animals in Sunberth and found them more fit for his time despite the trouble. Dogs were after all, loyal and grateful in the end when they find out it was for their good. Miro was something far lesser. Spinning as he fell to hide his the front of his body if the vain Miro wanted to ensure and gloat of his victory, Bob gave a loud yell of pain to increase the likelihood of his ruse succeeding. The cry was to make it look like Miro's attack succeeded and of course release the djed he accumulated. His targets? The Silencers that were coming in for the attack. The djed will go into all three of the remaining ones giving them the sudden thought that "the mage is dangerous" as even more of a reason to focus their attack on just him when Miro stupidly "has his back open. Silence him!" as what they have declared. Miro was not only a threat, he was also worse than useless to everyone who is fighting for survival. Just what kind of wannabe showed an opening like that in a battle? Miro was not some hero of a story he thought he was that his enemies will give him time to show off how big a shyke he is.

Heck, even his allies should not be chatting with Miro. It was evident to Kamalia and Shale that Miro was going mad, in a slaughter of allies when he sent his bolt of lightning to the dwarf full of malice. Bob added one last thing before going to commit to his performance in full. There was no need for any hypnotism now with what Miro has done and Bob suffering the aftereffects. While it was not that much, they were used too much too soon damaging his mouth that bled all over the floor. At least it can add to the act that he was damaged and for the others, all that was needed was a little motivation. Stretching out an arm towards the two like he was in need of help, Bob cried out loud but in a wavering voice as if he was on his last legs "be careful! He's obviously...overgiven and cough insane. Run or kill...hi..." They should understand what was needed even if Bob doubted Miro was actually overgiving and more of acting like a spoiled little kid throwing a fit. Falling on his own face hard and accepting the pain as the cost like the djed Bob could only hope he was not overly dramatic with this. Anyway, he was going to rest and gather his strength until it was all over or until his help was needed by those that actually wanted to make sure they will succeed.

OOC :

Miro, please mind your gaming etiquette as godmodding is not seen as nice in a collaborative game like this. Being competitive might be fun for you but its not fun for the rest of us especially when it will get in the way of story progression and when it is because you think every other PC is lesser than yours. You may have an image you want your PC portrayed as but other people might think different so it does not look good on you if you have to force people to change their views in the fear of PC death.

[Eridanus]

The white-haired archer spun around, screaming his unusual battle cry as he reached for his weapon. The ethaefal gasped in surprise when he recognized the familiar face of Antar Noth, the Sunberthian rogue who he had fought alongside with on more than one occasion. It was tough to survive in the city of anarchy by oneself, but the comradeship of Antar and the loose band of adventurers he called the Crimson Edge helped to transition the scholar to the character of the city. Therefore, it is with surprise, and also with a bitter sense of betrayal, when he discovered that the rogue had aligned himself with the forces that threatened to destroy Alvadas. His city of Alvadas.

"For... honor, glory and women? Really Antar, really??" Eridanus reprimanded as he met the incoming kukris with one of his blades. Ducking another swing, he thrust his other blade forward in an effort to test the man's defences, unwilling to so quickly kill his former comrade. He wanted an answer, a resolution to this betrayal. He wanted to know why.

One of the silencers reached the ethaefal, and he had to leap backwards as the new opponent came in between the clash between him and Antar. Brandishing both blades as he attempted to face both opponents equally, he tested the limits of his ambidexterity by parrying and attacking from two fronts.

"Why the betrayal, Antar? Weren't you called to Alvadas to protect it, not destroy it? Is this your idea of honor?" The scholar spat, making several jabs at the midsection of the rogue, although timing them in an uncommitted way such that even if he made contact it would only lightly pierce the man's skin and cause only minor superficial injury.

In the exchange of blows, he soon realized something off about the combat. He was quite aware of the rogue's fighting style, having personally witnessed him in combat several times, and something did not match up.

Antar's fighting style with the Kukris was radically different. It felt a little underwhelmed, and as someone proficient in swordsmanship Eridanus could tell that he brandished the kukris as if he were using a longsword, a particularly short one. As far as he knew, Antar did not have any reasonable combat knowledge with the longsword at all.

What was happening?

Keeping the rogue at bay with the superior reach of his weapon, Eridanus increased the flurry of attacks from his right hand against the new silencer, stabbing forward with a fury that forced his opponent to duck. Running alongside his jab, he kicked off from the man, using him as an anchor for an improvised wall flip, kicking his chin up as he executed a back layout.

While he was suspended upside down in the air, he used the ability of his boots to kick off against air, providing him with the added push as he flew downwards and towards the rogue. Twisting his blades slightly so as to present the flat of the blade towards Antar, he slammed both blades in a cross-like shape, intercepting the kukris in a scissor-like motion even as the added impact from his unconventional jump slammed him into the rogue, stumbling him back.

He pressed the blades further towards the rogue, going close enough to realize that there was no sense of recognition in the man's expression. Even when not consciously thinking, people often had different subtleties in their expressions when talking to others with varying levels of intimacy, and he knew Antar well enough to know that the rogue would never view him with such an antagonistic face. It was not just the open hostility, but it was the lack of recognition that accompanied such hostility. It did not match up at all.

"What happened to you, Antar?" The ethaefal uttered urgently, his attacks and push mirroring the urgency in his words as he sought a desperate answer from the white-haired man.

[Antar]

Eridanus’ actions were the trademark of an experienced warrior. But his demands were only met with scorn. 'What did a foolish horned goat of a rebel know of honor?' Aceren thought before redoubling his efforts to evade the slashes of silver that tried to permeate his defenses. The horned warrior did prove his skill by disarming the knight, in a crosswise swipe of his blades which locked and pulled away his weapon before the man's body check sent him stumbling backwards. Ever a quick one to recover, ‘Aceren’ widened the base of his stance to come to a skidding halt, glaring balefully at the rebel. "Who is this Antar, Rebel scum!?! What trickery is this? I am a knight of the land! To face me, thou must desire respite from thy empty existence!" The knight spat backing away down the corridor, closer to the guardroom of the gatehouse to grab a chair within his left hand. Making himself ready, brandishing it forwards as he gauged the distance between them with a keen eye. He struck, when the two Silencers had been kicked back, one to fall down off the length of the parapet to the Castle grounds, the other to be sent to the ground, momentarily out of the fight. Upending the chair, he used the feet of the artifice to capture and catch the blade of the longsword in Eridanus' right hand. This worked for twofold of purposes, it arrested Eridanu's momentum for a moment, and gave him the opportunity of a disarming twist, wrenching the blade from Eridanus' grip before planting on foot in his stomach to savagely kick him backwards before the surviving Silencer returned to harry him. It bought enough time for Aceren to pull the longsword to his own hand. 'At last he had a proper weapon to defeat this damnable knave!' Spitting to the side, Aceren took a weathered breath, his ribs were sore from the beating of Eridanus' longsword upon his breastplate, yet thankful for the safety of the armor that gave him a bruising, and not his blood spilling to the stones. Cursing, he spat a length of breath , "Though your wretched existence does not deserve such honor, at least you will know who it is who will end your life!" Taking a stance in a high guardPlow or Pflug guard, the blade of the longsword was held at an angle from the high chest over his head. This stance allowed for quick downward slashes, parries, and combinatinos of counterstrikes. If he could lock blades with an opponent his purposes would be served so much the better, for by doing so, he would deny an agile opponent their ability to move quickly, allowing the rest of his fellow defenders to swamp them from all sides. However, this man dared to taunt his honor, his defense of his liege lady, his castle, and his home. That deserved a different response altogether. "My name is Aceren! Knight of the fair Lady Verlynna. Liege of the Queen, her majesty Drysalla! I vow that I shall engrave my name upon thy very soul before I allow this castle to fall!" With a step forwards, and a downwards strike Aceren re-engaged the ethfael , striking at his flank as the cacophony of swordplay began. Silvery streaks of slashes resulted in a series of blocks and counters, Antar using his body’s momentum to attempt to harry the man in time with the other Silencer. He did not know how long they clashed, but eventually he was kicked backwards towards the doorway of the gatehouse before the last Silencer was dispatched by the Ethfael with a backwards stab to the stomach. This man was dangerous, that fact at the very least could be respected. His words... not so much. A sense of ire, anger, and resolve seemed to sharpen his senses as he thought of protecting his lady, the woman now waiting just down the ways in the gatehouse, the foolish knave would never get that far. He would not allow it! However, fate would not be on his side as the next clash of the two coming together found the blade of his purloined sword forced away in a riposte as the longsword stuck itself in the door’s planking. Within the bottleneck, the disarmed Aceren stepped back enough to kick the doorway shut, catching the charging ethfael off guards stunning him a moment as he crashed his weight behind the heavy planks of the guardhouse door. He could feel the heat in the air from the boiling oil at his back in the center of the room by the murder hole, and he heard the faint cry of shock of his Lady who seemed to stare at them both. Striking downward with his gauntletted fist, he did a half chop to the pinned ethfael's forearm in order to make him drop his weapon. For a moment, his eyes saw the now disarmed Ethfael's orbs widen in recognition as he glanced over Aceren's shoulder to his Lady, the fair Verlynna’s direction, his gaze full of recognition, and malice. That was too much for Aceren. 'The damn rebel would never harm her!' Taking a firm grip upon the door handle, Aceren slammed the door repeatedly into the ethfael’s body, punctuating each word to drive the breath out of his foe as his own lungs cried warning. "Silencers: Pour the Oil! Verlynna: Flee my dear! I. Shall. Hold. Him. Off!" ooc noteEri and I've agreed to collaborate on this and use each other's characters, there's no need for moderation on our end. Basically, since we're not technically pvping we're operating under the idea of, "put the other's character" first.

[Fallacy]

The scene erupted with action as the fight commenced. The Silencers were slowed down by the puddle of the half-man, but they were trained killers after all and such tricks wouldn’t keep them down for long. Again, once more, they sprang into action, met by the resistance of Shale, Karash, and Alluvia. Three of them were occupied, as Alluvia took on both a Silencer and their leader. Her illusions cascading and ripping apart the supposed reality of this place… She was doing fine, just needed to stay concentrated. Miros attack on Bob only added to the confusion of combat in an already confusing situation. Bob had managed to dodge the wave of res, but the attack still struck him. The lightning hitting him full force, but only parts of it. For as quickly as it was being transmuted the attack also was being turned into something else as well. Flowers of all sorts and colors fell from the body of Bob and surrounded him as he played dead. The electrical attack taking quite a toll on him, but he was still able to put on the half-convening performance. However the arrow shot by Antar hit its mark. Striking Miro in the left shoulder. Upon impact Miro would feel more than pain as it sunk into him, but the utter annoyance of the person who shot it. The arrow would then turn into a rose, the bud sprouting from the wound and opening in a grand display of red.A clear Counterpoint as the rose's thorns and roots dug deeply into his flesh, Stemming a tide of blood, unless it was jostled or pulled out. Who knew, if it wasn't removed carefully it may just rip a hole in his shoulder... or possible take his heart. Who really knows what might happen? This is Alvadas and Illusions power is law here. Whatever the case, the ladies might view it as an interesting conversation piece at a later time. It was then something else happened too. Bob and Miro would see their reality distorted. The place wavered and shank in front of them. Darkness met them for a brief second and to those still on the field of battle it would appear as the two of them disappeared. Flowers humorously sprouted from the ground, daisies to be exact, of where the midget lay, but there was no trace of Miro. Bob would feel the ground harden under him, and if he would look he would find himself on the stone floor. Ionu was watching! The stones were cold and seemed to match the rock which made the castle. He had, somehow, perhaps by the will of Ionu been allowed early access to the castle. The pain from Miros attack however would still be present. Clothes were partially burned through and his whole left side had spots of darkened flesh, burned from the shock of the lightning attack. The left part of his body was hard to moveNerve Damage, and it hurt, the searing pain, but some parts were oddly numb. He was lucky that the rest of it was turned to flowers otherwise it was clear he would be in a lot more danger, and not in good health. The short guy would find himself in a hallway, all the doors closed, and if he went to investigate he would find them locked. If he could get up or bothered to get up he would notice a door, slightly cracked, and hear someone muttering within… If investigated he would see Andres Towers, the person who he had fought before. Miro would find himself just outside a set of doors that made him look like the short one. Imagine what Bob would look like compared? The giant entrance towered high above, going well into the raised ceiling. Before Miro could step in any direction the doors began to open, and he would be able to see in. The more and more the opened the more of the room he would see. The room was large and spacious, pillars raised from the ground on either side to hold up the ceiling and at the same time add decoration. It was mostly empty. Everything made from stone, little bricks marking the construction of such a building. It was real, at least for now. Banners draped down from either side forming an isle of sorts, and at the very end of this room was a throne, perched high above all else with a series of cascading stairs. The red carpet stretched up towards the hated figure in his vision, but his first step allowed an intimidating sight. Upon the side wall of the throne room, several hundred small crystal spikes were positioned in a manner outlining a human form. Their crystalline edifice coated with red. Someone had been tortured there not long before, and a broken breastplate and blood coated gladius were enough evidence of the activities which had gone on before. Whatever the case, Miro should be aware that he was walking into a very powerful woman's lair. Perhaps more a force of nature, then anything else. As if on cue with Aceren’s cry Verlyna backed away, looking at the man who her love now fought. Shaking her head, her locks cascaded around her, ”Please we can go together.” she said, ”The Silencers can deal with this one.” she looked at Eridanus giving him the most dirty look she could muster, a look that seemed unfitting for the hypnotist. ”My love… I don’t want to lose you” again, she said. Reaching for him, but stepped out of the way as the Silencers launched the pots of boiling oil over the edge of the wall and out of the house. ”Don’t you hurt him.” she said to Eri, raising her voice in a un-lady-like way. ”What are you doing? Do you wish to cause us pain?” she asked, ”Aceren is my everything.” she pleaded with the attacker, ”If you have a heart, let us go.” she said, ”We will leave this place in peace.” she said, tears forming up in her eyes. ”We don’t want to hurt anyone anymore.” she said, ”Drysalla can have her holy war against Ionu and Alvadas. I have my Aceren.” she spoke.

[Eridanus]

Eridanus grunted in pain as Antar, or Aceren as he proclaimed, slammed the door into him, punctuating each slam with his sullen declaration. His hands raised in front of him to prevent the door from concussing his head, he risked a look at the remaining silencers to keep an eye on his surroundings.

And boy did it strengthen his resolve to get out of that mess. Aceren was really planning to turn him into a molten puddle. The scholar's mind worked furiously as he drew on the astral strands throughout his body, and began to mentally plan the destination of his reroutes. In between getting the door slammed at his hands and trying to frantically put his plans into motion before the silencers threw oil on him, saying that it was demanding would not be an exaggeration.

Still, the moonchild disciplined his mind, detaching his mental self from his physical to focus on his task. The pain from the blows lessened somewhat as a result of his meditative endeavors, and he began to start from his central body. Grasping the djed strings there like a puppeteer with his marionette strings, he pushed each djed strand outwards, fortifying precise muscle groups in his thighs, heels, arms and wrists while drawing from muscle groups from his general torso area.

With the added strength and stability, he roared as he pushed the door against Antar, barreling his way through. The surprised Antar did not expect the sudden display of strength, which sent him stumbling back. That meant Eridanus was currently in the air as a result of the sudden release of the door. Using the ability of his boots, he pushed off against the air as if it was solid ground, allowing him to fly even faster towards Antar and sending them both into a comical tackle as they tumbled in a confused mass of limbs and cussing.

Verlyna laid out her plans, to which Eridanus put proper thought into it. He could avoid battle with this white-haired man, along with one of the legendary hypnotists of Alvadas. Even if she was a construct of the Mirror, a replica of a legendary being should not be underestimated, especially not after he saw Drysalla's power back in the crypt.

However, his gods would totally kick his ass for taking this easy solution out. Myri would frown on him for not choosing to fight. Wysar would spit on his lack of integrity, while Priskil would not look at him kindly for abandoning a friend and comrade, even if he was so severely confused. Not to mention Yahal. Oh man, Yahal would totally kick his ass for not doing the right thing.

My guess my adoption of faith trumps cost-benefit after all.

While it was true that the thought of agreeing to Verlyna's request did cross his mind, he did not quite like the thought of his former comrade being manipulated like that.

"First off, darlin', that dude over there ain't 'Aceren'. He's Antar Noth, and he's my friend and comrade. You gotta be real careful who you're callin' your lover, eh?" Eridanus drawled in a mock gangster voice he heard back in Sunberth. It was more of a method of letting her know where his intentions lay, as well as hopefully reminding Antar of his Sunberthian roots, and therefore free himself from this ridiculous notion of being some knight.

Aceren was not amused and yelled, "You shall not dishonor me with your strange words, foul cur! My dear lady, seek a safer shelter, and I shall rejoin you soon after dispatching of this damnable abomination!"

The two of them exchanged blows, throwing each other around the area as both parties scrambled to find weapons. Antar used what remained of the chair and slammed it into the scholar, though that attack was blocked, bruising his forearm and splintering the chair. Eridanus grabbed a dropping chair leg and shoved it into Antar's chest, though it clanged hollowly as it struck the breastplate instead. In response, Antar brought his legs up and landed a solid kick on the ethaefal's stomach, knocking the wind out of him as he stumbled back.

"Your end draws near, you villainous creature!" Aceren roared, rushing forward in an attempt to tackle the ethaefal. Eridanus was barely recovering and he found himself grunting as he was pushed to the ground. However, he allowed himself to roll along with the momentum, kicking off the white-haired rogue after a rotation or two. With his superior familiarity in Acrobatics he managed to recover faster, and slammed an elbow into the recovering man, pummeling him even further into the ground as he punctuated each blow with each word in a delicious moment of deja vu.

"What. About. Shai. And the Crimson Edge. If. They. Knew. About. Your. Betrayal?" He panted as each blow emphasized his words. Kicking the man in the stomach, Antar was lifted off the ground and further away in a crumpled heap, though he was groaning as he began to stand up.

"Wake up, man! You are not Aceren. You are Antar Noth; Shai's lover, member of the Crimson Edge, rogue of Sunberth, prophesied savior of Alvadas, disciple of Eryss Waldu, and MY FRIEND. I'll get you to your senses, even if I have to beat it out of you!" Though the pain of the damage he suffered from Antar was beginning to set in, his resolve helped him through, for he could not give up his ally just like that.

No matter what cost he had to pay, he would pay it if he could get Antar out of this. There was no victory when he was the only victor and survivor. There was no victory except a hollow one if his friends did not made it through together with him.

[Antar]

Eridanus words, at first had no impact. For 'Aceren's' mind was under assault by the waves and waves of Verlynna's magics. Though , at the mention of Shai's name, a small crack appeared in the forced persona leaving Antar a brief moment of lucidity. Pushing himself unsteadily to his feet his guard relaxed and corrected itself to shift his stance back to what Eridanus would see as close to his normal stance as his gauntletted fists came up at a guard position just moments before the ethfael was on him again. "Damn cur, I..." A slightest pause as his mind fought against the shackles placed upon it. Shai... a brief flash of violet hued eyes staring at him. Condemning him for being weak - willed at times. Yet a faint notion of a slight caress across his skin, a sense of comfort. Perhaps a flash of warmth. A brief memory of the scent of cinnamon. By now, both of them had been disarmed of sword and blade. All that Aceren knew of, knights did not stoop to the foul use of hidden blades, 'right?' A brief flash of recognition, unsheathed the weapons from his wrists as old muscle memory overode what was newly created. This lapse held only a moment before the blades were retracted as some form of confusion began to set into Antar's thoughts. If he had been himself, and they had been fighting so close it was obvious that Eridanus would have been much more hurt by now. However, the ethfael took the opportunity to bullrush him, grabbing him by the shoulders to knee 'Aceren' below the belt. Even with his armor's codpiece the impact was a brutal, and disorienting attack. Served only by instinct, Antar's wrist came up to snap a quick backhanded blow across the man's face as he stumbled a few steps backwards. A few steps too many. Teetering on the edge of the gatehouse murder hole, Antar stumbled back. Verlynna uttered a wordless shriek, as her heart bade her to try and grab a hold of his wrist as the woman rushed forwards to reach him. Only to be blindsided by the charging ethfael as the three fell down to the gateway below. The three would land heavily in a pile, an assortment of arms and legs sticking every which way. Some tangled amidst the fabric of Verlynna's skirts. Antar's breath was knocked out of him and his senses would dull a moment as his helmeted head cracked down into the earthen loam by Eridanus' follow up strike to his chin. Leaving the ethfael, an opportunity to strike at the woman within arm's reach. Whether it was the distraction of the moment; the concentration of pain in his body to the exclusion of all else, or the revelations of his past, Antar's consciousness would briefly come back to the fore. Wordlessly howling a cry of anguish and accusation as he began to struggle to untangle himself. Unknowing of who and what was holding him down. Wrist blades would be unsheathed from his gauntlets and then sheathed again as he tried to free himself in more ways then one. Bleary eyes would fathom the hazy form of the ethfael, focusing and unfocusing for a brief moment as Antar muttered, "Eri- what?" Glancing around at the feel of supple curves against his frame he mumbled a belated question. "Verly-no.. Shai?"

[Miro]

Everything happened so fast, so suddenly. One moment rage was flowing from his body, the next pain and confusion. The scenery changed in a flash of white, just a simple blink of an eye and he was in a new place. Where was half-man, or Alluvia and Shale? And, gah, the pain. Miro looked around at the room he was in. It was beautiful, if confusing as well. A massive set of doors leading to a towering ceiling stood before him, quickly swinging open. The presented room was monstrous, a ceiling much too high to be practical with intricate pillars and stonework throughout. Foreign banners and a long red carped led the way up the stairway holding the throne. The throne of Drysalla, ruler of New Alvadas, as it seemed.

The wizard drew his eyes away from the vile sight, bringing his vision down to his shoulder. It seemed as if an arrow may have hit him, but in its place was...a flower? It brought him excruciating pain, causing him to wince as he tried to examine the wound. Red trickled down from it and ran down his chest and arm. The red bud that sprouted from the wound left him perplexed. It ached, as if it had taken root in his body, as if it was drinking nourishment from his body. He wrapped his hand around it, closing his eyes to fight away the pain. He tugged gently, but the scream that slipped his lips was proof enough he could not pull it, not with the pain it caused.

Miro had no choice left but to face his destiny. He did not even consider turned to find an exit route, as Alvadas would just as soon take away his entrance. He walked in, treading forward across the marble floor, his footsteps resounding. He glanced around the room yet again, noting something new this time. A reddened spikes, obviously meant for a person and used for torture. Ruined armor and a fine weapon were blood soaked just below, still dripping red. It was going to make for an interesting turn of fate, to say the least. He had little idea how to properly react or approach the woman, but he could try something.

"Well, do my eyes deceive me or have I been blessed to see your face twice today?" The words were carried out with a hint of agitation and sarcasm, yet held confidence. "'Tis always a treat to find one's self in such exciting and eventful times. Seems as if all of Alvadas has vanished. I take it this is your doing, seeing your abilities first hand and all. Beauty and power to spare, how fruitful illusions can be. May I also assume that you have summoned me, m'lady?" The boy had finally reached the stairs, taking it upon himself to bow before the woman, his injured arm dangling to the floor. Once again he was stricken an overwhelming pain, causing blood to gush and stream down his arm.

Miro gritted his teeth, attempting to curl it into a smile. The woman would obviously notice his injury, and how she would enjoy playing with him. Surely his guise of friendly confidence would serve him to postpone the inevitable conflict for a few moments. It seemed more than likely his life would end on this day. "But wait, before you answer that, let me continue on. I have a prediction, you know, seeing everything around here as it is." He now rose, pacing his way towards the blood stained torture device before turning back to Drysalla once more. "Giant castle, empty city, bloody wall here. Seems as if you could use a bit of excitement yourself, huh?"

The reddened gladius resting aside the broken breastplate drew his attention. It was a blade common to the gladiators, giving him hope that some had survived. He reached down with his uninjured arm, grasping the weapon by its handle and flourishing it to his side, sending a wave of blood across the floor. "Has torture gotten old, or perhaps I am in for a treat. C'mon, let's see what New Alvadas is all about. Show me what you intend for this great city in its new chapter. Does Ionu still reign as our patron deity, or am I to bow again before you?" Yet again he found himself walking towards the woman, this time proceeding to climb the stairs. He wasn't sure what he would do when it came time to approach the throne, but he might as well get it over with.