[Flashback] Anger the Serpent, Unleash the Devil

[Ialari Pythone]

Timestamp: Winter 508 AV
Task: Flashback Discovering Raided Isur Outpost
Location: Eastern Kalea Foothills

Winter was well underway when Ialari made her way through the eastern foothills of Kalea. She had left Gyvaka Swamp to the southwest having had unique experiences she would never forget and continued her journey east. With all of knowledge she took from the swamp, she was ever more encouraged by the possibilities of even more to be had from the stories she had heard from the various human merchants who frequented the trading posts closer to her home. Supposedly, there was a grand city far to the east where people of all races gathered. The rumors said that it was called Syliras and that it was supposedly the heart of human civilization in the times following the dreaded Valterrian. While Ialari had no love for the human race, she was nonetheless interested in seeing how the humans had survived the devastation. Of course there were also rumors of an island even further east of Syliras; a place where ancient magic still flourished. The thought of somehow gaining access to such ancient and forbidden knowledge was something Ialari could not pass up.

As strong as Ialari considered herself to be, she found herself unprepared for the harshness of the winter in the foothills. While packing as best she could, she had not spent a consistent amount of time outside of her mountain home other than the occasional trip to one of the closer border posts. The whipping wind combined with the icy tentacles of the frigid cold and ice bit into her flesh and brought ice crystals to her hair and face. If not for the blood of Izurdin that flowed in her veins, she felt she would be consumed.

Coming down from the mountains and into the foothills did not offer the relief she imagined. The biting wind blasted her face and the deathly cold chilled her limbs. Though she had mapped in her mind the path from Gyvaka to the eastern Kalea border, she couldn't help but feel a bit uncertain of whether or not she would reach the eastern most border post of the isur. Izal'Chisla, "Izurdin's Chisel", was located on the southeast border of Kalea and served as the eastern most trading post in the Kingdom of Sultros. A small outpost of roughly 50 isur, it stood as not only a small trading center but also a forward lookout in a region where human barbarian tribes tended to flourish.

Ialari pushed forward along an old road left over from the times predating the Valterrian. The broken stone beneath her feet was barely felt beneath the layers of snow and the dead, ice-covered trees that lined the way filled the air with frigid despair. Ialari couldn't help but wish for the warm of the forges and the hearth fires of her home. Somewhere in the desolation lay the outpost and she was determined to reach it.

After countless hours of pushing through snow, shaking her arms and legs, fingers and toes to combat frostbite and trying to light small fires with the few bits of wet wood she could find, Ialari caught a strange scent on the icy wind...smoke. She squinted her eyes in a vain attempt to see past the blowing snow that whipped against her face. After several attempts, she caught sight of a few wisps of black smoke coming from ahead; the distance was still too difficult to tell but it was definitely coming from the direction of the outpost.

[Ialari Pythone]

The fact that she could smell smoke on the wind sent a chill throughout her body as Ialari realized that in order to smell such a thing in the present weather conditions, the source of the flame must be quite large. With a renewed sense of purpose, she pushed forth to the outpost with increased pace. The cold wind tore against her flesh and the snow and ice clung to her hair and cloths, breaking strands and threads as they froze. She lost all sense of time and direction as she focused only on the source of the smoke. After what seemed like an entire age or two had passed, she finally came to a halt at a snow covered cliff. Through the blowing snow she could see black smoke rising from a blurry collection of stone towers. Izal'Chisla was in flames.

Catching a sidelong glance at a small, snow-covered trail descending the side of the cliff to the shallow valley below, Ialari ran without thought to footing or safety to the outpost. Her legs burned with the effort and her body was far beyond numb from the cold. If not for the unearthly patience learned from the teachings of the great Izurdin, she surely would not have lasted as long as she had in the midst of such horrific environmental conditions. Patient as a mountain and just as strong, she threw her entire being against the elements in order to reach the ruined outpost gates.

The outpost itself, while small, had once been quite formidable. Four walls built of solid stone several feet thick, still stood strong. The wood and iron gates that offered primary entry into the outpost had been shattered and burned. Charred wood and twisted iron were all that remained. Lightly covered in a layer of snow were several bodies scattered in front of the gates. Cautiously approaching a few of them, Ialari noticed they were all human. They were dressed in animal hides with crude weapons laying next to them. Barbarians. Many tribes of hardly civilized human tribes wandered the foothills of Kalea. Survivors of the Valterrian, these humans were barely more than animals; leeching survival off of whatever they could conquer. She spat upon the dead body before her and stood, her gaze directed beyond the ruined gates.

Pulling from her robes a simple dagger, Ialari was no warrior. She knew this all too well as she stepped over the broken, burned wood and twisted metal of the gates on her way into the outpost. What sights presented themselves to her would be forever burned into her mind.

The outpost was structured for supply and trade. It served as a forward observation point for the Isurian Kingdom and offered local tribes of all races a place of protection and commerce in an otherwise wild and lawless land. Beyond the walls lie a simply courtyard where most of the barter and trade transactions took place. There was a barracks for the local garrison as well as lodging for the resident isur. A shrine to Izurdin was also present as well as a tavern, forge and stables.

Standing just inside the courtyard, Ialari observed only ruin. Anything that wasn't stone, was on fire or smoldering. Bodies, both human and isur littered the courtyard. Surrounded by death and destruction, Ialari was left completely unprepared and unable to do anything but stare at the devastation. Never in her life had she witnessed such carnage. There were dead isur surrounded by numerous barbarian corpses, a testament to the strength and skill of her brethren. Although Ialari had never seen such a thing before, it was crushingly obvious that the outpost had fallen victim to a raid. With the smell of death heavy in the air and the shock almost too much to bare, Ialari jumped when she heard sounds coming from the direction of the shrine. The sounds of voices, speaking in the common tongue with an accent not isur, sent a shock from the base of her skull to every nerve extending throughout every fiber of her body. Looking to her left, Ialari found a pile of smoldering wood. She thrust her black, metallic arm into the still glowing coals until it too glowed with a heat that would blacken flesh and boil blood. Then, with gritted teeth mixed with unbridled anger as well as a bit of fear, she made her way to the entryway to the shrine.

[Ialari Pythone]

The smell of smoke and burnt flesh stung brought tears to her eyes and she had to stifle the fits of coughing and retching. As she slowly, cautiously and silently as possible approached the shrine, Ialari noted the number of human bodies outnumbered the isur 10 to 1; there were so many that she lost count. The humans were dressed in animal furs and hides and looked as if they were nearly as dirty in life as they were in death. Filthy barbarians... Ialari thought as she stepped over a couple of them on her way to the shrine.

The shrine was on the other side of the courtyard and while it was a relatively short distance from where she entered the outpost, each step felt as though it were a mile. Her people, men and women alike, lay dead at her feet. They had fought like only an isur would, with honor and courage. The sheer numbers of humans who must have assaulted the post had been too much however. The price those humans paid was evident in their losses yet still the outpost fell. Why it happened was unknown to Ialari yet it was a common fear among the isur that the humans, jealous of the perceived treasures the isur held for themselves, would one day cross the line and breach all agreements, both spoken and unspoken, with an attack.

Ialari stepped up to one of the shattered glass windows of the shrine and waited just to the side. Stifling yet another cough, she stood statue still and silent as the corpses around her. She heard the voices again. There were also muffled screams and sounds of struggle. Risking a look through the window, what she saw caused her to grind her metallic fingers into the stone wall.

There were humans, eight of them from what she could see, ransacking the shrine. They were taking anything of potential value and breaking everything else. The muffled sounds of struggle were coming from an injured isurian woman, held down by three of the humans while being raped by a fourth. The woman, baring the shredded remains of a priestess of Izurdin, appeared too injured to give much of a fight. The humans were laughing and joking about their victory over the outpost and of how much they enjoyed cleaning up after the rest of the tribe. A moment later, the humans finished their entertainment and slit the priestess' throat.

Ialari squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lip til it bled. She wanted so much to may the humans pay for what they had done but she was in no position to wreak such vengeance. She was not a fighter, she had never outright killed another through physical force and with so many humans, she was at a severe disadvantage. As she hid to the side of the window, she noticed something that brought a slight ray of hope to an otherwise impossible situation. Growing up the side of the shrine, not yet touched by flames, was a miracle. The fact that she had not seen it moments before escaped her as she marveled upon the existence of an Englehorn vine. At first glance, the vine appeared as nothing more than simple plant with pretty flowers. To one skilled in the art of poison, the vine offered a weapon. When burned, it would cause any who inhaled the smoke to suffer from severe bleeding from the throat; distraction enough to grant an advantage in whatever future plans she may conceive.

[Ialari Pythone]

The fact that the Englehorn vine was growing in an isolated outpost in the dead of winter did not escape Ialari's notice. The vine normally grew in much warmer climates and was unable to survive in such a frigid winter. With such a miracle at hand, Ialari could only see it as a sign that her intentions were pure. She would make the humans suffer until they begged her for death.

Her chest grew heavy, her tear-filled eyes burned as if they were filled with acid. Ialari reached the vine with one hand and sliced a large piece with her dagger. The chill of her surroundings numbed her body yet her mind felt more than she would have wished. As she struggled with the pressure caused by what was happening around her, Ialari shot another quick glance at pile of smoldering embers just a few feet from her. She looked at the severed vine in her hand to the nearby embers and back to the open window.

It was then that something yet more unsettling happened. A twisted smile crawled its way across Ialari's face. She envisioned the humans coughing blood and scratching at their throats as the poison smoke filled their lungs. The vision was enough that she thrust the vine into the burning embers. Wet as the vine was, it was strangle able to catch a flame and ignite. Whispering to herself Ialari muttered softly yet not quite understanding where she found the words, "We shall grow strong from your suffering." With that she tossed the vine through the window and awaited the sure signs of wheezing and choking that would soon come.

[Ialari Pythone]

Just as expected, the vine burned very slowly, smoldering and thus creating a toxic cloud of greenish smoke. A couple more smoking pieces of vine flew through one of the broken windows contributing to a quickly forming cloud of poisonous fumes. The sounds of laughter and celebration turned to that of surprise and pain as the humans quickly succumbed to the poison that filled the air. There were still eight of them inside the shrine leaving Ialari sorely outnumbered despite the toxic fumes. Quickly plucking a handful of flowers from the Englethorn vine, Ialari thrust them in her mouth and immediately chewed them yet didn't swallow. She recalled the Englehorn poison could be countered by the flowers of the same plant as long as they were chewed while swallowing small amounts of leafy spittle a bit at a time.

Closing her eyes, Ialari steadied herself against the foul smelling, bitterly cold wind as well as strengthening her resolve toward what she was about to do. She never cared much for humans; they were dirty, savage, undeserving beasts that produced but a rare few redeemable specimens. When she opened her eyes though, all she saw were rapid dogs in need of slaughter. These creatures were a threat to everything civil, beautiful, intelligent and blessed. Kneeling for a moment, Ialari wrapped her still heated metallic fingers around a smith's hammer; a tool that once belonged to the now dead isur that lay nearby. Bringing the head of the hammer to her lips, she whispered a prayer to Izurdin, seeking a blessing of strength. With the hammer and vine, conflicting symbols of strength and weakness, Ialari rose then dashed into the main entrance of the shrine, hammer at the ready.

[Ialari Pythone]

The mixture of smoke from the smouldering ruins combined with the irritating fumes from the poison filled the inside of the shrine to the point that visibility was severely limited. Chewing the flowers and swallowing the bitter spittle did help to negate the poison though Ialari struggled to stifle fits of coughing. Upon rushing into the ruins, Ialari was met immediately by two of the humans gagging, coughing and staggering to escape. Though the hammer in her hands felt more than familiar from years spent in the forges of her homeland, Ialari had never used one as a weapon. Anger and desperation though forced her hand to swing it in an unfamiliar way as she brought it around in a wide arc into the belly of one of the men. The head of the hammer connected with its intended target causing the man to double over; unable to breathe. Left choking and gasping for any air he could get; poisonous or otherwise, the man became another obstacle for the one behind him who immediately tripped over his fallen comrade. Gripping the hammer in both hands, Ialari quickly brought it down on the second man's head causing it to crack, cave and spill and splash carnage at her feet.

Ialari knew that the poison fumes would not last long as the smouldering vines would quickly lose the desired effect so she scrambled to regain her composure as she saw the other men stumbling about, holding their hands to their mouths and rubbing their eyes. One of the men, already recovering from the poison, caught sight of Ialari and the two men at her feet. Trying to cry out a warning yet succeeding only in bringing about another round of violent, blood-spitting coughs, he rushed her. Having dropped his weapon, the brute simply charged her in hopes of trampling her. The man was much larger that Ialari in overall size but he had little control. It was enough however as he slammed his full weight into her. She lost her grip on the hammer which flew to the side as she was slammed into the wall next to the doorway. The man held her against the wall; his forearm pressing against her throat. Ialari did her best to keep the mouthful of chewed flowers in her mouth while she tried to push the man away. Though stronger than the man, he had her pinned in an awkward way that kept her from using her strength to push him away. Her attacker however did not know of the metallic hand that Ialari had heated with the embers from a fire outside.

With one hand trying to push the man away, Ialari brought her heated metallic hand to the man's face and squeeze at his flesh. Though not as hot as she would have liked, her hand was heated enough to burn the man's flesh and Ialari's own vice-like grip was enough to fracture the bones of the man's face causing him to fall away from her. Now feeling pain from the man's charge, her throat sore from being choked, Ialari stumbled a bit away from the wall as she was faced with three more men now beginning to recover from the poison. They were rubbing their eyes and still coughing but they had seen what happened to the others and their faces twisted with anger. The other two men were nowhere to be found but from the sounds coming from out a nearby window, Ialari realized they had jumped out to escape the poison.

Even with only three men remaining before her, the odds were still steep against her prevailing.

[Ialari Pythone]

The three men remaining inside the shrine had originally planned to make easy pickings of whatever remained in the outpost after it had fallen to tribal raid a short time prior. They hadn't expected any resistance. When the smouldering pieces of vine flew through the window, a couple of them noticed but didn't know exactly what to make of it at first. Now that only three of them remained on their feet, recovering from the acrid smoke that had quickly filled the air, some of their companions now dead on the floor, their attention was solely focused on the woman obviously the source of it all. Two of them were armed, stolen blades in hand, the other held a scavenged wooden table leg; jaggedly broken at one end.

Ialari, now unarmed, was feeling the odds pressing against her. She was not a warrior; her skills lying on the opposite end of the spectrum. She did however possess an overpowering desire to exact revenge upon the men for their foul deeds along with the strength blessed to her race by her lord, Izurdin. It would have to be enough.

Swallowing a large, sore lump in her throat, she did what she felt the men wouldn't expect. She charged them. Raising her arm to protect her head and face, she rushed head-on at the man in the middle. Not nearly possessing the mass to barrel him over, she didn't need to. In a second or two she was on him with her arm raised in front. She backhanded him with all the might of an enraged isur. Surprised by her reaction, he was not prepared for the strike which shattered every bone in his face and sent him toppling backward. Unfortunately, the desperate charge opened Ialari up to attacks from the other two men.

One of them lashed out with his sword. If not for her dense flesh, it would have been a deadly blow. The blade sliced into her left shoulder, separating skin and drawing no small amount of blood. The other man stumbled slightly to avoid the falling middle man but still brought his own sword across Ialari's midsection; slicing through her robes and cutting into her abdomen. Ialari fell to her knees, pain shooting through her entire body. Barely thinking, she rolled onto her back as one of the men swung again, this time down at her head in hopes of ending the threat posed by this terrible woman.

Ialari raised her right arm, the black metal almost shining in the light of the dim fires around her. Sword and arm connected and the poor quality blade shattered; the force of which knocked the sword out of the man's hand which he now held with the other while trying to shake away the pain it caused.

Frantically reaching for anything with her off hand, Ialari grabbed hold of a broken plate laying nearby which she then used to stabbed into the other man's foot. Shouting out in pain and anger, the man hopped backwards while trying to remove the broken shard. Meanwhile, Ialari scrambled to her feet while attempting to stave off the pain from her numerous wounds. She mustered the strength to swing again at the man who just then pulled the shard from his foot. Her fist collided with his chest, the sounds of his sternum shattering could be heard even by the other man holding his own wrist. Anger and pain quickly turned to fear in that man's eyes as Ialari turned to face him. While both he and Ialari were unarmed, the man was under no illusion of being able to take her down easily. Thus he turned and tried to jump out the window like two of his other friends had.

Ialari followed by leaping at the man at the same time he went for the window. Their bodies slammed together; her greater weight forcing him to fall short of getting out the window. Instead, his head came down on the window sill and he was instantly out cold. Ialari pulled herself from him, about ready to slam her fist into the back of his head. She stopped herself however; it was not over for the unconscious man.

Noting that there were two others that remained, Ialari retrieved one of the men's swords and fumbled her way out the doorway. Giving a quick look around the nearby area, she could not see them. There were obvious tracks in the snow however that led back to the main entrance to the outpost. Waiting several moments to see if there was any sign of their return and finding nothing, she returned to the shrine and to the unconscious man.

[Ialari Pythone]

Ialari returned to where the last remaining, living, human lie unconscious within the shrine. She used her foot to roll him over onto his back. He was unwashed with long hair tied in a tail and a short, scraggly beard. The man was large, around six feet tall and well muscled and weathered from a life of survival in the wilds. He wore decently crafted clothing made from animal hides and bore a number of tattoos. He was not unlike many of the people Ialari had seen during her forays to many of the other outposts within the Isurian Kingdom. If he had been cleaned up and better dressed, she toyed with the idea of him maybe having been somewhat attractive; for a human at least. The reality of it all though, to her, was that he was a monster. A terrible creature that raped, pillaged and plundered anything it could overpower.

Turning now to the dead isur on the nearby table, Ialari approached. The dead woman had been a priestess of Isur; a spiritual figure and powerful individual in her own right. No doubt she defended the shrine until ever last bit of strength was spent. Ialari, bleeding and weak, mustered the strength to scoop the woman in her arms. She carried her to a nearby pew and laid the body upon it. She would do the woman right in a few moments with a proper burial as she would the rest of the isur in the outpost. Meanwhile, there was the matter of final retribution.

Ialari walked back over to the unconscious man. She roughly picked him up; he was rather heavy, and carried him over to the table where she laid him out. Then, taking shredded strips of torn curtains from one of the nearby windows, she tied each of his arms and legs; cloth going under the table from one limb to the other, so that he could not move once awake. She then strapped his head to the table in a similar fashion. The poison smoke had since faded so she spit out the spittle containing the antidote.

She then waited for him to awake. While waiting, she used some of the remaining shreds of curtains to wrap her wounds. There was no doubt that she would have to find something to help combat the possibility of infection yet she wasn't exactly sure what to look for. That would come later however as she had more important matters to attend to.

[Ialari Pythone]

Her wounds bound, Ialari approached the man strapped to the table. She reached out and tore the clothing from his body as if plucking a flower from a stem. She then retrieved a small bag from a pouch at her side. From it she pulled a pinch of brown powder, the odor of wet fur emanating from it. She sprinkled the powder on the man's chest, abdomen and groin. The powder reacted with the sweat on the man's skin and instantly caused severe reddening as the skin became quite sensitive and irritated. Ialari smiled as she recalled the primary use of "Phantom's Shell". It was a poison that made one's flesh more susceptible to pain. She then set to the task of collecting a variety of sharp objects ripe for cutting and piercing. Broken glass, a ceremonial dagger, a couple of iron spikes from one of the dead men; they were all laid out on slightly burnt chair set-up next to the table.

About twenty minutes later, the man awoke. He had a huge bump on his head with a cut crusted with blood. It took him only a moment or two to realize that he was immobile and laying on a table. "What the!..where..." His gaze met that of Ialari standing over him.

In a voice filled with such venom that it could almost kill with words alone, Ialari licked her lips and said, "Nice to see you finally awake. You've done terrible things this day. Things that have not gone unnoticed. Ialari leaned in close, choking down the smell of the dirty human. She whispered in his ear, "I'm the hand of God and you shall now feel the touch of justice." With that, Ialari picked up a piece of broken glass and ever so slightly, brushed the man's chest. He immediately howled in pain and strained against his bindings. The poisonous powder she had sprinkled on him shot his level of pain through the rough and she had barely caused a tiny trail of blood to well-up from his parted skin.

The man cried out, "No, please! We didn't do it! The others attacked! They're the ones who did this! Not us!" Ialari scowled and crushed the shard of glass in her hand before grinding it into the man's belly. Again he flailed against his bindings and shouted in pain, coughing and crying.

"I saw you. I know what you did to the priestess." She said icily. Ialari paused a moment and then continued, "I'm not doing this for information. I know what happened. I saw what you did. I only want you to feel the pain of every last isur that died here. You'll carry this memory into the next life, and then to the one that follows and even further still. When this' over, my face, my voice, is the only thing you will ever know for all eternity, no matter what existence awaits you after." Ialari was stoic. There was no emotion on her face and her voice carried a "matter-of-fact" tone to it. She never cared much for humans; they were primitive creatures lacking civility and intelligence. They were animals meant to be farmed at best, slaughtered outright otherwise. What she had seen that day was something that solidified her beliefs; it justified her views that humans were little more than insects meant for extermination. The isur were caring enough to provide supplies and respite to the human tribes of "The Unforgiving" wilds of Kalea. In return the humans wrought death and destruction. It was the seed planted in Ialari that would one day grow into something much, much more horrendous. It would become a focus unlike any other; one that would drive her to the depths of death and beyond in an effort to cleanse the world of what she thought to be a plague upon all that was good and just.

[Ialari Pythone]

"So fragile, so weak you humans are." Ialari said softly as she picked up an iron spike from the nearby stand. "It's no wonder you pathetic vermin were deemed unfit to flourish in the world. Your greed, your brutality, if not for bringing everyone else down with you, it all would have been more than justified." Ialari referred to the Valterrian; the terrible tragedy that befell all life in Mizahar. Ialari had been taught that it was the humans who wronged the gods and in retribution, the destroyed the world. She knew of the stories told by her elders, passed on to them by the ancestors that survived the devastation. The Old Kingdom of the Isur had been destroyed by a massive volcano that erupted in the middle of the capital city. The survivors fled and after great hardship, created the new Kingdom of Sultros. It was believed however that the humans had caused it all. From what Ialari had seen thus far, especially now, it was never more true.

She then drove the iron spike into the man's right arm. This brought on a blood-curtailing scream and a whole new round of futile struggle against his bindings. The man coughed and choked on his own blood-filled spittle. Ialari showed now mercy however as she took another spike and slammed it into the man's other arm, just below the shoulder. This caused him to pass out.

Ialari then waited. After an hour, the man slowly regained consciousness. Smiling, Ialari leaned in slightly and said, "Nope, not dead yet." With that she took the dagger from the stand and placed the tip of the blade at the center of the man's chest. He cringed at the pain of the simple touch.

Leaning in closer now, almost touching noses with the man, Ialari whispered, "I hate you. I hate all of you. I will send you to the beyond with the knowledge that I am going to kill every last human ever to have been born. Your children, your parents, your grandparents, I will slaughter every one of them. You are not fit to live in this land and I will see to it that none of you ever do." With that, Ialari pressed down on the blade, not enough to kill outright however. She then pulled it down the length of the man's torso; down his chest, past his abdomen and to his groin. When she reached the end, she pulled the blade down parallel with his body and sliced into his genitals. Blood was in no shortage as it spilled from the wound. As the man choked on his own blood, Ialari left him to bleed out until death finally took him.

Though she didn't realize it at the time, that entire event; the fight, the killing and the torture, planted the seeds of madness that, with a little nurturing, would grow into something far greater.

Leaving the man to slowly die, Ialari returned to the dead priestess. She picked up the body and left the shrine for the outpost courtyard. Laying the body on the ground, she then set to searching the rest of the outpost. She gathered up every dead isur she could find; there were many. She carried them to the courtyard pausing only to warm up next to a fire. Using stone from the local mason shop, she built a single, large cairn for the bodies. It took hours and the cold of winter threatened to consume Ialari along with her stinging wounds.

When all of the bodies she could find were properly entombed, Ialari said a prayer and laid the smith's hammer; the one she used in combat, upon the top of it. She then said a prayer to Izurdin and asked the God to guide the souls of her brethren to the beyond where they may serve in the divine forges of the afterlife. Once the ritual was complete, Ialari then tended to the bodies of the humans that lay within the outpost. Those she threw in a pile and burned; cursing them and praying for them to suffer eternal weakness and sickness in the afterlife. Finally, she began to scavenge all she could from the outpost. It had been raided, looted and burned so there was little left in terms of equipment and supplies. The charred, sour smoke drifting up from the smouldering ruins was only bearable due to the occasional gust of icy, snow-filled wind that picked up from outside and found its way through the broken outer wall and chased away the smoke; for a time.

Ialari had already gathered what she could from her encounter with the humans at the shrine. A serviceable scimitar and shortsword, an complete suit of il-fitted studded leather armor rounded out what she retrieved from the humans. Though much of the shrine had been looted and vandalized, she was able to find a couple of iron spikes, an emergency supply crate containing a first aid kit and a number of dried rations and the priestess' ceremonial dagger. The dagger, forged from isurian steel, also bore the mark of Izurdin. To Ialari, it was a gift from Izurdin.

Sifting through the remains of the outpost didn't take very much time as Ialari had already surveyed it a bit while searching for survivors and/or bodies. Izal'Chisla wasn't as large as some of the more established border posts. Surrounding the main courtyard there was the shrine, forge, storage shed, small stable and livestock corral, barracks, mess hall and the home of the outpost commander. Izal'Chisla housed 50 isur from different clans; all of them sporting different specialties that complemented each other so far out into the Unforgiving. Iike other outposts Ialari had been to throughout her life, this one also had a handful of soldiers from Izurdin's Hammer to aid in its security. She had already buried the seven of them; they had been surrounded by dozens of dead human raiders. Building by building, Ialari searched with the forge being the first. It had been ransacked; most of the tools and equipment had been either stolen or destroyed. A single, knocked-over anvil was all that remained intact. Righting the anvil, Ialari ran her fingers across its surface before turning to walk out the doorway.

Next came the storage shed. It too had been cleaned out of nearly everything. Before the raid, it would have been used to store food, barrels of water and ale as well as cloth, tools and a number of other items. Now, all that remained were charred, broken shelves and smouldering piles of burnt wood. From there Ialari approached the barracks where the majority of the outpost's inhabitants were quartered. Though not heavily burned, the barracks had also been ransacked. Sifting through the remains however, Ialari was able to find a few functional items including a pair of snow guards; special goggles worn to help protect one's eyes in blowing show, a battered wooden case containing a working portable shelter and a dirty wool cloak.

Next came the stable and corral. Livestock, being too valuable alive, appeared to have all been taken as was most of the useable tools and equipment. Ialari did however find a heavy horse blanket that, while dirty and covered in a bit of ash, was still in good condition. It would help with her long journey through snow.

The mess hall was little more than a couple charred stone walls and a big pile of smouldering debris. Nothing of use could be found there so Ialari moved on to the outpost commander's quarters. The quarters were the most fortified of the inner buildings and from Ialari had seen, it was the final stand for the outpost inhabitants. She found the commander, a middle-aged male isur from the Sultros clan, lying dead just inside the quarters. Three of the Izurdin's Hammer lie next to him along with over a dozen human bodies. Now that the bodies had been removed, Ialari entered and searched around. The building itself hadn't been burned yet it had been stripped of most of anything worth something. Ialari wasn't able to find much of anything useful and started to leave. Just as she was about to exit the commander's bedchamber on her way to the main entrance, she noted something that seemed a little out of place. There was a stone in the wall that to a human's eyes would not have stood out but to Ialari, an isur, she could see the slight difference in how it fit into the wall. Walking over to it, Ialari ran her fingers along the edges of the stone block where it formed a seam with the stones around it. A soft smile formed on her lips as she placed her metallic hand on the center of the stone and pushed hard. The stone slowly began to slide into the wall until Ialari felt resistance behind it. She stopped pushing and took her hand away. As she did, the stone began to push outward until stopping with just enough exposed edge that she could get a grip on it and pull. Removing the stone, Ialari saw the spring-loaded contraption that moved the stone as well a small leather pouch. Opening the pouch, Ialari found 200 gold mizas; no doubt the outpost's monetary funds.

When it was all said and done, Ialari packed up the goods she had gathered and returned to the shrine where she leaned against the altar and fell asleep. Before she drifted off, she whispered a prayer, "May the gods watch over me; may they bless me with their grace. May Izurdin provide me with the strength I need to succeed in life. May this place of death become poison to the those who defiled it. My arm be for the strong, my fist for the righteous, my blood for the devout. The weak shall wither, the strong shall rule. In the Gods I give my life." Sleep came shortly after; consuming Ialari in its comforting embrace.

In the world beyond, two sets of eyes looked down upon her. One belonging to one of immense strength, patience and love for his child. The other, belonging to on who thrives on the opposite; weakness and sickness. Would their interests work off of each other or would they act in opposition. Only the future would reveal the truth of it all.