Niela clenched to Dietse’s hand as he guided her into the school building. It was the largest she had ever seen, larger than any building in Lemp. She wondered if they build it all those years ago just like this to help its size. it was very gruesome, really. It was high and mighty, and it made her feel small. She took an other breath, and closed her eyes.
‘Nothing to fear Niela, just a big gigantic building with a lot of people inside. But good thing, a lot of children your age. Just don’t scare them, and hope they don’t scare you,’ Dietse told her. He was wearing one of his best three piece suits, and had given her a great dress, one that she loved dearly, and hated already because she knew she would grow out of it.
‘Your castle is smaller,’ she said.
Dietse nodded, his eyes on the architecture. ‘Oh, far smaller. My castle fits in here a few times.’
‘Can I lie about how big it is? Your castle I mean. These are rich kids right?’
The man laughed. ‘Of course, don’t take them on a field trip to Lemp, and you’ll be fine.’
They reached the entrance hall, where people came to take their jackets. It was just before the summer, and Trolian was dealing with a cold front. A lot of groups of children were jumping around. All these new people, Niela didn’t have a hard time dealing with people, she just always pictured the idea that they would be leaving her, and fear to connect.
Dietse placed his hand on her shoulder and turned her around. ‘Listen Niela,’ he said, fathers and mothers and young children walking past them. ‘I know this is scary, and I know you feel like I am leaving you.’ Yes, that was something she was thinking about. ‘But these people will help you, help you grow. You take their advice, and you befriend the youngsters you like. Okay? I want you to have a least a bit of a... well, I wouldn’t call it normal... childhood.’
Niela nodded. She never knew what to say to Dietse when he was being fatherly, but she appreciated him being nice. ‘And if I don’t like it?’ she asked, pushing her shoulders together, and looking at the ground.
The man placed his hand under her chin and lifted her face. ‘Then you come back home, okay? In Lemp you have a home, always remember that.’
Juvion sat on the edge of the cot, holding his sword. His hand shook, his first two fingers a stiff and unyielding claw. The skin on his arm was shiny and puckered from the mid-forearm all the way to his shoulder and shoulder blade. He closed his eyes, concentrating, and lifted the sword. He made it three inches before the blade slipped from his grip, and fell clanging to the floor.
He’d been civil when he asked for some time alone to rest. They were his group, his friends. But this was the last thing that he needed, that any of them needed. When he’d gotten news of Maia’s capture upon waking up---he’d missed the announcement the rest of the group had received, he and Thon were already out the door on their doomed mission---they’d had to keep him sedated. But they shouldn’t have bothered. He was useless, anyway. It would take months to learn to fight with his left hand, and it was inconceivable to him to wait that long before attempting a rescue. Darqa and Dynas and Loriente would have to have it covered.
Running a hand over the thick stubble on his chin, he smiled in a way that wasn’t far from a grimace. He couldn’t help them. He couldn’t even help himself. His only use would be his Magic, a fluke of his birth. Finally, he’d prove his father right. He’d be the real Juvion Modord, the one he’d been covering up for so many years, pretending he could be something better, someone deserving.
Now he was the broken toy soldier, and it all seemed so... appropriate. Staring at his wreck of an arm, he began to chuckle hoarsely. His laughter grew until it became indistinguishable from sobs, and then he fell silent.
Kelt gazed at the night sky, then back at the backyard of their Betechem home. Everyone else was inside, getting warm by the fire, talking about anything but the battle. They had been back for a day now, adjusting to a life without constant battle was odd, even if that battle had only lasted two days. He sought the company of beings from out of this world, just for a moment, just to thank them.
He choose a good spot, and sat down on his but, his legs crossed, and his forearms resting on his knees. He was wearing a warm sweater, a cold weather had passed. The pink and blue stripped outfit did catch some attention, he could hear people whispering as they walked past, but ignored whatever they were saying. He closed his eyes and imagined a link between him and Out of Time, a link to the Gods.
‘Leia, Marcous, and Raylan, thank you for protecting me and my Compan during our days in the battle. We’ve enjoyed your protection, and all have come back safely. A few cuts and bruises, but nothing serious. Please, watch over Daneal Oas, he has been captured, and I fear for his sanity, being out there in HagaFosiel all alone. Please, protect and care for our King Deas Uef, I fear he needs help on his path, even if he’s doing pretty well as it is,’ Kelt said, keeping his eyes shut and his body completely still. He smiled when mentioning Deas. Good guy, that one.
Kelt had a rather strange way of praying, he would always talk to the Gods, tell them about his Compan, how they were doing, how they felt, wether they needed help. It was his bond with a supernatural power that calmed him to a point where he could still live with himself. It kept him sane. And that was something he needed considering his position, considering his age, and those who had died around him.
‘Johnus is doing fine, I think he feels a bit shaken by the battle, he had a few encounters with Mancers that didn’t go so well. Sidjay is mostly there to keep his head up, she is pretty excited about the storms that’s coming in from the Masadur. We’ve bought rainjackets and ponchos to go watch it at the walls. I guess we have some of you to thank for that. Saraas was pretty worse after the battle, she got a big cut on her leg, but they took care of her quickly, and she’s up and running again. She told me the other day that she would want to train with an other Gold Magician. Good thing I know a few.’
By now no more people walked past, which made the silence around him heavier. Sometimes he wished more people held faith in the gods, so he could pray together with them.
‘Migwa has been doing alright, she filled in for me a few times during the second day, led people around, told them where I was, what our missions were. She was pretty helpful. I do hope she one day gets a Compan, she surprises me each time with doing better at what she wishes to become. And oh, Menjai. Menjai did fine. I did notice she was a bit on edge, maybe because it was the first battle led by her cousin, not Karadas, but Deas. I think she really misses him. I feel for her, he was more than just a king to her.
‘From what I heard, Samual took care of Jeiramey during the first day, I didn’t see the Teccup the day after, and when we got back he admitted to being hospitalized. For someone who doesn’t talk very much, he was very descriptive about his numb legs, and how Blue Magicians worked hard to restore feeling. He still silently complains about not feeling his toes, I can see him pinch them through the window now. Samual has asked leave to visit his sister, I didn’t even ask Ser Bealish if that was alright, I get that he wants to check on her as soon as possible, so I let him.
‘Olphan was missing all during the second night, no one has an idea where she went, but I hope she had fun. She has been avoiding me since we got back, maybe she thinks I’ll be angry at her for not being battle ready the third day, but none of that matters, because there wasn’t a third day. Mohmay has knitted me a scarf, for no reason other than Samual told him that Teccups do not have a good clothing business because they are bad at it. Their argument must’ve been harsh if it convinced Mohmay to make something. It’s a really good scarf though.
‘Then there is Liev and Zolyn, I think they grew a bit closer when I assigned them to the same Dragon. Liev got food poisoning during the flight back, I think it was something she ate in Dragones. We had to stop five times. She’s feeling better now though. Zolyn has got this mother instinct about her, she recognized Liev was getting sick and send us to the ground, she even knew a bit about what herbs to use to get rid of the stomach aches. If I ever feel like throwing up, I am happy to know she’s in my Compan.
‘Well, I think that was it for tonight. Johnus is forcing me to play some card game with him and Samual, he wanted to invite Migwa too, but apparently she crushes at games. I am in for a treat!’
Kelt smiled and stood up, brushing the dirt from his pants. He gave one more look at the night sky, before he headed back inside, where it was warm and cozy.
Sadar skillfully threw a small stone at one of the Blue Magicians when she wasn’t looking, and fell back into his bed to ensure she wouldn’t suspect him. A minute later he tried it again, but on one of the other patients, landed the dirt right in the man’s face, who started screaming and almost threw his bed over.
Yeah, laying in the hospital was boring like that. And he probably shouldn’t be using his Magic, after all, he wasn’t really there because of his leg, which was healing just fine, but because he had exceeded the energy within his body that made him able to... well move. He had used up most of his Magic, and he needed rest to fill his reserves. Not even doing a short nap on the ground would fix that.
Speaking of short naps, he had been asleep for the past... two days? The battle was over, they had managed to drag him back to Tordanes without him noticing, and as soon as he was back on his feet, he could fly back to Betechem himself. Oh jolly.
He grimaced. What annoyed him most - aside from not being able to do much, and not having any books or company - was how it had all happened. Sure, he understood Bane’s reasoning for getting his ass out of there. That Plant Magician was serious business. But being dragged off by some weird soldiers like a broken mannequin. No, thank you.
Sadar was being pitiful with himself. He knew the right decision had been made, and he pretty much had this situation to thank to himself, but he couldn’t help thinking the situations could’ve ended differently. For one, he did blame Bane for making use up most of his reserves, for nothing, too.
He better be waiting to apologize.
Few more days of annoying people, shouting at nurses, and getting strange looks from those who recognized him as a NightElf, and then he could get home. Time to annoy the hell out of Daneal.
It was a fresh night, cold, the wind that rushed through Landon Fields played with the fire and sang, blowing between tents and tired Knights and Soldiers. The sky was pitch black. This was the first battle after King Karadas’ death - the man who was King when Sidjay’s family visited court, the man young teenage Sidjay had always told herself she would befriend, just for the sake of befriending a king. It had never happened. The man that was Menjai’s relative, but it was Menjai’s relative as well, who was the new King now. Her uncle. King Deas.
Her muscles felt heavy and sore, as if she was still wearing her armor, even though she had taken it off right after the battle. It was her arms that hurt the most, as usual, no wonder, with the weight of her sword and the strain of magic. This was her job, her entire life - feeling exhausted after only one day was a bad sign, she really did have to spend a lot more time training, just like everyone told her. Mainly Johnus.
Looking up from the luring dance of the fire she was staring into, it felt too hot against her legs and face, there he was. Grinning this silly smile he had reserved for Kelt, because Kelt was saying silly things. It was lighting his whole face up brightly - this face of him, usually so in thought about what he was going to say next, about what their siblings were doing at home. About things even Sidjay didn’t know of.
She really loved them, both of them. Endlessly positive Kelt was such a source of energy for her, and Johnus, her older brother, was always so caring - so worried. Just looking at them like this, as if there was nothing to be tired about, made the blonde feel better already, too. Sidjay smiled so gently it felt odd on her lips. This was no time to slump down over bread and soup. This was the time to share words and strength, so motivate and inspire, to light spirit afire.
So maybe, she could give back a little bit of the strength Kelt and Johnus always gave her.
Sidjay rushed her hair back with her fingers and then shook some volume into it. Putting her hand on Migwa’s should, who was in midst of eating her nightly mean, Sidjay stood up and tall. Migwa smiled, she knew what this meant, and Sidjay gave her a toothy smile back. It was so cheesy, her holding speeches, and yet, with her slacking in training of her magic, with her running off to do her own thing. With all of her faults and flaws, at least this was a thing she could.
Her sword was already sheathed and sharpened in their weapon’s tent, otherwise she would have held it high, and it was water, she was drinking, not wine, but Sidjay held her cup towards the fire and sky anyone. She looked at her Compan and pride filled her chest.
Migwa smiling up to her in this innocent manner of hers. Menjai leaning on Liev, more quiet than usual. Samual next to them, probably thinking of his sister just like Johnus, who smiled at her. Kelt grinned from eat to ear, he loved speeches just like her. Sidjay knew, when she would sit down afterwards, he would stand up. Olphan and Zolyn, interested, but as always with sharp eyes that proved sharp minds. Saraas and Jeiramey, sitting with more space between them and the others. Mohmay, giving her a look to start already. Grinning at all of them, she did.
“Another battle against the Cold North, another day of our entire Compan coming back not unharmed, but with our lives tight in our hands. Not many have been as lucky as we were, protected by the Gods due to our faithful Commander, - thank you, Kelt - , many have left their lives on the battlefield again, as in any battle. As in any battle, North blood has been spilled just alike out own. And yet, among all this hurt and death that is our daily lives, every single one of us has made it here again, and every single one of us is healthy and strong enough to do the same tomorrow. With our dead strong in our back, and our families tight in our minds - with all of us fighting together and for each other, as I stand here, tomorrow shall and will be just as successful as today!”
Growling lowly, Orractous - still buried under layers of Greenness - made his way back to camp. It was his monster that kept him going, where his body was exhausted to the point of passing out. However, he knew that giving up his mind would mean the monster could take over, so he remained in control as he slouched back to some campfire.
Arriving he must seem like a starving wolf, setting himself down, the greenness disappearing beneath his skin, next to a fire with a bowl of steaming... porridge it would seem. He held out his hand and waited for a bowl to be placed in his palm. The heat went unnoticed. The young Magician just focussed on the fact that it was food. He poured it in his mouth, ate it all away in under five minutes, and handed the bowl back to the invisible hand. Content, he closed his eyes and moved his shoulder blades to get a better spot. The campfire warmth his flesh and bones that would otherwise freeze from the lack of movement. He could sleep now, he wouldn’t mind that much.
But the night was still young, and sleeping in his gear seemed like a bad idea. With a grimace and a growl, Orractous pulled himself from the ground. He stared at some unfamiliar faces, ignoring their asking gazes, and pushing his whole body to a standing position. For a moment unsure if he could make it back to his tent, the Emerald Magician bent his knees. Seemed fine, he concluded. Slow like a turtle, the Mancer went on his way. He wasn’t sure where his tent was, and looked for details that he had captured on the way out to determine his route.
That resulted in a long maze through tents and campfires, hoping he might stumble on what could be his tent - because to be honest, they all looked alike. He picked a nice looking one at the center of camp, thinking it to be his, he walked in unannounced. Two head swung his way, half covered in blankets. They were in a struggling position, one on top of the other, and shouted at him that he was in the wrong tent. No shit, he didn’t share his tent with other people!
Wiping his nose, Orractous backed out and looked around again, trying to find an other nice looking tent that could be his. He stumbled around some more, then came to a stop at a almost deserted campfire. Finding his tent could take all night....
He sat down and took off his gear: sword, armor, shoes. With all of that away, he could move his soar muscles and bones again, stretching quietly as he listened to the talks around the fire.
One young woman rose up, she had long black hair and a tail behind her. Horse tail, he decided to call her. The woman smiled and began telling a story. ‘There once was a young Demon called Ractous Merson, who fought off a group of Nomads from stealing all their food when he and his father were camping out in the Cold North. His father had dropped a ten feet down the mountain slope when they had been coming back from a successful fishing trip, and the youngster was left to fend of his father and carry him back to their village. Little did he knew that the Nomads he hunted back had been scouting for their master, the God of the North, and reported back with twisted tales of a boy with devil strength thwarting their way. They were that ashamed to tell a young boy had been their better.’
‘Angered by the news, yet not knowing if it was true or not, Laca set down on a journey to test of the boy was a devil or not. By the time he reached young Ractous, his father had died among the cold of the mountains, and the boy himself had set out down the slope to bring the fish to his home. Laca met him at a crossroad, posing as a hungry and frightened older man, he asked the boy for a piece of his fish. Ractous, still struck heavily by the loss of his father, shooed the old man away, his eyes red from crying.’
‘It had been long since Laca had seen a youngster, let alone one that cried, and he did not understand what it meant. He could only conclude that the boy was indeed a devil. Keeping his distance, Laca followed the boy to his mountain village, and watched him set fire to his parent’s house - an old ritual when both owners of the house have died - thinking it an act of destruction. Believing his nomads to be right, Laca came to the boy the morning after, no longer pretending to be something else, his essence shown with a light that blinded the boy. He condemned him to live a life of suffering until he died, blinding him and taking his hearing from him as well. Then he left.’
‘Ractous cried for days, not hearing or seeing anyone who would want to help him. A month after the death of his father and the loss of two of his senses, he set out to prove the God wrong. Wandering into the forest without anything to guide him except smell and touch, Ractous sought his way back to where he had burried his father. For weeks his strode among the treetops and heavy snow, until on the day hunger was about to beat him, and his hands were too frozen to hunt an other small animal, he found a grave. He smelled the scent of ground beneath him, and felt the word written in the wood that lay on top. He pleaded to the god who had taken last of what he had from him. It was my father, he whom I lost that made my heart grow cold, he who was dying that forced me from my innocence.’
‘Laca, hearing the boy’s prayers, came down from his cold mountains, and walked the snow beside him. Knowing no mercy, only logic, the God lay his hands in the ground and sought the bones of the one who was buried here. He felt the fresh grave and looked into dead eyes. The boy was speaking truthfully. Shamed by what he had done, Laca decided to help the boy. He was not able to return his sight or give back his hearing. Thus the only sensible option was a quick and warm death. Cradling the starving boy in his arms, he pushed him away from the Fifth Gate, and into Out of Time.’
Concluding the story, the woman sat back down. She started at Orractous for a moment. The Emerald Magician had fallen back from the trunk he was seated on, and - with his feet warming in the heat of the fire - had fallen asleep quietly.
Of course he would wake up under a warm blanket, with no idea who put it there, having dreamt of cold snowy mountain tops and dumb gods.
(OOC: I am creating some closure of my character Orractous now Divi is gone. Since I still want to do Cynnthyia some justice, I’ve decided that Orry has been the one to break it off)
Staring at his now empty appartment, Orractous wondered whether his decision had been the right one. It had never been his intention to break it off like that, things were going smoothly between them after all, but maybe too much of that smoothness had gotten on his nerves. Or other things might have. The line “It isn’t you, it’s me” hadn’t been used by him. It was them, not either of them as individuals, but them as a pair. She had left after an intensive conversation about their relationship, but he knew she was upset. They both would have to deal with those feelings.
For one, Orractous wasn’t someone to stand still too long when hard situations had occurred. Death had always been part of his life, and seeing people hurt - or himself in some cases - was day to day life. He would simply live the next few days - maybe weeks - of his life rolling towards acceptance.
Sighing he fell back into the couch, digging his body down the softness of the fabric to ignore how heavy feelings dwelled up in his stomach.
He guessed he would think well on his own, but his own thoughts were killing him. Instead Orractous stood once again, planning on seeking out the one person who could give him a good pep up, or at least pretend to be listening: Varamadras.
Tripping over his own legs, Orractous tumbled down the hill to join with the soldiers behind the defensive hump on the field. They were far too stressed out to even notice his drop down to the ground. He picke himself up pretty quickly and dove behind the fence before the next attack hit home. Smoke rose from the hill above them, fire toar through the already trappled grass.
Orractous raised his hands to cover his ears for the next hit, but the sudden movement from the soldier next to him, send his back roughly into the small bulge of grass and dirt.
'Unsafe, unsafe!' He heard the leader of the pack call in Demonic, and the whole group jumped from the bulge to head towards the next.
The Teccup was the last to unlink hia back from the dirt, just when the next attack hit. The hill spread apart in a cry of rock and dirt being thrown into the sky. Five of the pack, including Orractous, were caught in the rumble. The other soldiers sped back to help the fallen, the Mancer was clearly not their priority. His whole body was covered in dirt, patches of grass, and even a few small rocks. The impact of the fire blast had send a ringing through his ears, and he was unable to push himself up. He became completely reliable on the pack.
It was the sergant that came to his aid, dragging him from the mud. 'We need your Magic!' He yelled.
Orractous heard not a word of what the sergant said and bit back a gasp as his legs came free. His left lower leg was a gaping hole of blood and gore. He wasnt going anywhere.
The Sergant had signaled two others to help him lift the Emerald Magician from the ground.
At every little movement Orractous growled low. He craved for a little energy, for the strength to pull himself off the floor. Very differently from how he imagined himself feeling two hours into fighting.
Another beam of fire landed cloae to them, sending them all flying through the air once more. Two were hit in the fire and left in smouldering masses.
The sargent was the first to get up, running around instructing everyone to make for the woods. He layed a sad gaze on Orractous, marking the Teccup as a lost cause, before stroming after his pack.
Orractous couldn't disagree, the sargent had made the right choice, his body would only be a burden. Growling he tried to get up. He had wasted most of his Magical reserves, but he refused to give up. Finally coming to a stand, the Magician that had been scaring them down the mountain seemed see him as little a threat, and acted interested in seeing what he would do next.
The Teccup was sure to use this to his advantage. He fell back on one knee, pulling the greenness from under his skin to his feet. His body trembled in using its last energy. He waited, feeding the greenness around his broken leg, until the Knight showed little patient to sit out the time consuming staring contest much longer and began forcing its strength to its chest.
Thats when Orractous moved, he pushed himself off the ground towards the Magician, the greenness aiding in his speed and keeping his body together. It further grew along his arm to form into a claw. He edged around the Magician, who was surprised at the sudden coordinated attack. His feet send him back towards the Knight soon enough, jumping a meter away to dig his claw deep theough steel and flesh. The Knight collapsed, and Orractous skitted away from the sight, leaving the group of soldiers that had accompanied the Magician far behind. They seemed not to be interested in a persuit.
Balck spots appeared before Orractous' vision as he ran. But he had to make it back to the pack, he couldn't survive passing out so far away from camp.
Growling he pulled attention from the hiding skattered soldiers. Knowing he had been heard, the Teccup pulled back what was left of his greenness into his body and collapsed after one step, the pain of his broken leg engulfing his senses.
He saw a figure cut from the hising spots and run carefully up to him.
In the last seconds before he passed out he was able to send a single message. Killed the Knight, no one follows. This was my first mission, sorry I was such a bother.
