1006NE: Msondic War - Phoenician Front

Discussion in 'Lords of Ether - ***Archived***' started by Duneczan, May 9, 2006.

  1. IXJac Moderator

    Emerlyon, Alcarivar, Phoenix Nord
    May, 1006 NE


    Into the Realm Eternal

    In her dreams Silthay danced through the void between worlds, a permeable darkness flowing around her like thick roiling smoke. From the darkness whispers assailed her wailing, crying, threatening, warning. You should not be here! Trespass! Abomination! Flee! Fly! Ruin! Death! Destruction!

    Silthay didn’t mind. She sort of enjoyed them. She imagined they were the souls of the dead, but she really didn’t know. She didn’t recall having killed anyone who chattered so much lately. The silver gates swam out of the haze, indistinct and broken as if seen through a rippling pool of ink, and she danced through them and into the halls beyond, all distorted by her twisted vision of this realm that somehow always drew her in her sleep. She heard sounds coming over the whispers, tinny and faint as if from a great distance and followed them.

    “The Herald has been dealt with then, Lord Morragan? Good. And events on Procarthis have taken an unexpectedly favourable turn. I believe I may be able to regain full control of the lower roads, and provide you the gates to the shadowlands that you require.” The speaker was a tall woman dressed in silver with the palest alabaster skin standing before a large full body mirror hanging on the wall of a room whose other details swam together at the edges of Silthay’s limited vision as if she were looking through a fishbowl. The woman looked like a ruler, a manipulator, someone who got others to do her dirty work – a weakling.

    A roaring voice like the rushing of the wind spoke from the mirror, which swirled impenetrable colours, blotting out that portion of Silthay’s vision. She only heard the woman in silver’s response; “I am glad the mortal seer suits your needs so well, Lord Morragan, but truly, such mundane concerns of iron and flesh bear little interest for me.”

    The rushing roar answered her again, and even through the distorted swirls, Silthay saw the woman’s eyes go wide, then narrow and her expression darkened. “The human army? Using my paths? This could not happen without the manipulation of some other Power. I will – ” She stopped, then looked up sharply, staring right at Silthay. “A shadow on the wall – a trespasser from the shadowlands.” Her voice came through clearly now. “I know you. Exile. Defiler. Return my Phylaricon.”

    Surrounded by inky clouds Silthay touched the icon hanging around her neck and smiled. “Finders keepers.”

    “It will return to me time.” The woman said. “Whether you will it or not. All it will bring you is death.”

    “Blah blah blah.” Silthay drew her sword, a flickering insubstantial thing of smoke and mirrors, “I like death.” She leapt forward and slashed at the woman, but the world fractured into thousands of howling whirlwinds and she fell through the storm, tumbling back into her body.

    Silthay opened her eyes with a yawn, humming with eager energy, like a plucked string. She threw the silk sheets back and strode to the window, naked but for the icon around her neck. She threw the intricate blinds wide and looked out over the conquered city of Sundamar on the Surf. Great breakers rolled down the long bay, tumbling and frothing as they broke on the beach, before turning pink and retreating. The beach itself was piled high with corpses of Alcarivan warriors and the sand soaked crimson. Drow sea serpents writhed among the corpses, devouring them as they bloated in the summer heat of New Phoenicia. Up from the beaches much of the azure-and-marble flecked city lay in ruins, marked by the plumes from still burning fires to the south, stronger now than they had been last night. Eventually they would spread unchecked and consume the whole city, but Silthay didn’t care, she wouldn’t be staying here long anyway.

    She yawned again and padded off through what had once been the house of the local lord to find the nearest bath. Charred frescoes of great elven heroes and deeds of old glared back at her, but she just winked back. There were no servants, but the Alcarivans had adopted that marvellous plumbing used by the New Phoenicians and Aquitanians, and in a few moments, Silthay was sinking contentedly into a shell-shaped pool large enough for half a dozen people and filled high with bubbles.

    Elyon entered the room, soundlessly pushing aside the screen behind Silthay. Silthay felt the assassin’s cold, calculating mind regard the bath room. She would have expected at least a brief flicker of malice from Elyon – some thought as to how to use this opportunity to assassinate her unarmed mistress, but the woman’s mind remained focussed on some other task. So suspicious. Perhaps she should find out who Elyon really was. . .

    “I have located the man called Saber, My Queen.” Elyon said.

    All other thoughts fled Silthay’s mind. “Where?”

    “Emerlyon,” Elyon said.

    Silthay frowned. “Is he trying to hide there? That’s a little disappointing.” She pouted and sank lower into the bubbles, blowing a cloud of them into the air. “Well? What are you waiting for? Assemble the legions, summon the minions, mount the warbeasts and all that stuff. Whoever’s not ready to go by the time I’m finished my bath gets left behind.”


    Elyon bowed unseen as Silthay vanished beneath the white topped bath water, then turned on her heel. As she entered the hallways of the elven manor, she tapped a mindex gem on her gauntlet and summoned up an image of General Izzam. Formed out of flickering green magical light, the face of the scarred Drow warrior looked out at her, “What is it Elyon?”

    “Prepare the troops for another raid.” She said. “Emerlyon.”

    The usually taciturn Izzam raised a scarred eybrow. “Emerlyon? That’s a hard target, and we don’t have that many men left. It’s inland, so we’ll have to leave the serpents, and Her Majesty’s last raids have been hard on the numbers of the enskinned and devoted.” Elyon just looked at the swordmaster. “I’ll get the men ready.” She killed the connection.

    “Trouble in the ranks, Raine?” A little imp buzzed through an open window to hover over her shoulder, it’s voice a soft whisper in her ear. It had the form of a small dainty dark skinned girl as long as a finger, but with insect wings, horns, sharp fangs, and a barbed scorpion’s tail. On its tiny pert nose perched a pair of equally tiny gold rimmed reading glasses. All in all it was rather cute.

    Elyon shrugged. “The army is coming to the end of its rope. I think they’re starting to realize Silthay’s just in this for her own personal glory, and few, if any of them, will survive to win any loot from this. I’ve counted the numbers, and at least a third of those who were at Tassarion have quietly deserted. Most of the rest probably stay because they fear the consequences of leaving, but I don’t think Silthay really cares. I suppose being nearly immortal does that.”

    “But you got her to attack Emerlyon, right?” The imp asked, tugging on Elyon’s ear insistently, “Right?” The imp was actually just another form of communicator like the mindex gem, but it bore an uncanny resemblance to the appearance and mannerisms of its master.

    “I hardly had to try.” Elyon said swatting the imp aside. “She’s eager to fight Saber again. Unless she manages to tap the limitless power of the Phylarikon he’ll give her a hard time, but Sithay’s not one for caution. I suppose she’s never fought one of these. . . Raphæim. . . before.”

    “Neither have you.” The imp said.

    “Shouldn’t you be summoning or something?” Elyon said evenly. “You didn’t do so well your last time against him.”

    “Oh, our Red Queen left me plenty to work with here.” The imp said. “Almost makes up for the loss of my Kitiara.”

    “That was your own fault.” Elyon said, with a pointed look at the imp. “There was no need to try to capture Serra Arquisson yourself.”

    The Imp folded its arms and harrumphed. “I need that dagger she has, if I’m to get the Phylarikon.”

    Elyon’s hand snapped up and she grabbed the imp, holding it in her fist and bringing it to her nose. “Not our mission, Charm.”

    “A bonus.” The Imp said. “And it’ll be a poke in they eye of those damn bloodsuckers if we can succeed where they failed.”

    Elyon shook the imp. “You have no intention of giving the Phylarikon to Lord Shavak if you find it, and we both know it.”

    The imp blinked its large eyes innocently, but Elyon did not release her grip. The scorpion tail flexed and stabbed repeatedly into the assassin’s palm. Elyon tossed the little imp away and healed the pricks with a flick of her wrist. The imp buzzed back up to her face angrily. “Well, listen to yourself – ‘nearly immortal’, ‘limitless power’. ‘Course I want it! What self respecting Sancta wouldn’t? Know your problem Raine? Lack of ambition. Maybe that’s why I still like you.” The imp grinned, then vanished in a pop.

    Outside the thrumming bellow of Drow hunting horns blew, first one, then two, then a mounting chorus. The Red Queen’s hunt was assembling. Elyon faded into a bank of rustling curtains as a group of enskinned thumped down the hallway, blending perfectly with the blowing cloth. Silthay wouldn’t care that she wasn’t present, probably wouldn’t even notice in her excitement to get at Saber. So let the Red Queen earn her reputation. Elyon and her partner would be sitting out the first act of this one. . .
  2. IXJac Moderator

    Alcarivar, Phoenix Nord
    May, 1006 NE


    Into the Realm Eternal

    Silthay walked through the doors of the Lord’s manor and looked over the army waiting in the city square before her, lounging against benches, trees, sitting on the grass, or standing impatiently. Over 5,000 of the hardest Drow warriors ever assembled. Some of those nearest to her rose to their feet expectantly, but others just sat and waited. Silthay wore tight fitting black leathers that stopped well short of armour (a conceit she had decided not to bother with anymore), and over them a swordbelt and bandolier from which hung an assortment of lethally wicked weapons.

    Behind her a jet of flame exploded from the door of the manor, and then half the roof collapsed in an upwards shower of embers. Silthay's thick red hair blew wildly in the back draft. In the distance other explosions rocked the city. Once beautiful Sundamar on the Surf would not long survive their departure.

    “Everyone here?” She asked Izzam. The enskinned swordmaster was lounging against a nearby tree, his huge greatsword leaning against his chest with the hilt resting above his shoulder.

    “Everyone who's coming,” Izzam said. “Some weren't so enthusiastic. They aren’t here.” The swordmaster looked like he'd have liked to her to order him to hunt the deserters down, but a few cowards didn't interest Silthay.

    “They'll be sad the missed this.” Silthay shrugged. “Well, why wait?” She drew her sword and held it high, hand wrapped around the blade just below the hilt. Her fingers tightened, and a line of blood ran down the black metal.

    A single drop of crimson beaded on the tip of the blade, then fell to the grass below. Like an ink stain on blotting paper it spread rapidly, turning everything black as it raced across the ground under the now expectant Drow. Weapons were all out now and at the ready, the Priestesses, Assassins, Hunters, Enskinned and Devoted straining towards their queen like dogs on a leash.

    “To Emerlyon!” Silthay yelled, and drove the blade down. Darkness enveloped them, and Silthay felt the great capital city of the Alcarivar race towards her. She felt layers of magical defences rising to block her and contemptuously brushed them aside.

    In the center of Emerlyon the shadows cast from the bases of the skyscraping towers by the early morning sun lengthened, and then from their depths boiled thousands of howling Drow warriors. The streets were empty of the usual downtown rush - their arrival hadn't been a surprise, but Silthay could sense most of the defenders were at the city's walls. They vastly outnumbered her raiding force, but they were out of position.

    Silthay rose into the air over her army. “Gate's open, boys and girls! Burn it all down! All of it!” She threw back her head and laughed. A bolt of energy hit her and she absorbed it. A wedge of Alcarivan jetbikes was racing towards her, the riders levelling a forest of burning pyrite lances at her. Silthay flicked a hand, and a fan of dark points like thrown blades made of midnight shot out, slicing through bikes and riders. A cascade of explosions raced past Silthay, debris shattering the crystal windows of skyscrapers behind her.

    She felt incoming teleports within the buildings around her. For a moment she considered countering them, but that would be no fun. Instead she created dense whirling disks of sharpness to meet them. A bank of windows above her turned red with copious spray as the incautious travelers were minced on arrival.

    Other Alcarivan troops were now running into the streets, clad in silver armour and wielding spears that spat fire. The first waves of Devoted flew over them dodging bolts of flame, slashing and slicing, and elven bodies spun, screamed and fell. The lower floors of a nearby building imploded from a priestesses’ attack and the whole thing began to collapse.

    Weak. Her minions could handle this. She was just here for one person. Raising her sword she closed her eyes, feeling for the knot of greatest power. There. She smiled and then her blade sliced, cutting the air aside. She stepped through the gap she had created, and into a dungeon, empty save for a single chained occupant.

    “Hello again, Saber.” The Red Queen said with a smile. She spun her sword lazily, cutting the air with a continuous low whistle. “I've been looking forward to this. So you’d better find a way to free yourself in the time it takes me to walk from here to there, else I think we're both going to be very disappointed.”
  3. Alcarivar, Phoenix Nord
    May, 1006 NE


    Into the Realm Eternal: Last Symphony

    "Hello again, Saber." The Red Queen said with a smile. She spun her sword lazily, cutting the air with a continuous low whistle. "I've been looking forward to this. So you’d better find a way to free yourself in the time it takes me to walk from here to there, else I think we're both going to be very disappointed."

    "You disappoint me already, Silthay," Saber’s baritone voice rumbled, echoing more than usual in the cell. "I expected you much earlier." He stood, the shackles clanking and falling free. His hands behind his back, Saber’s glowing eyes seemed to brighten as he smiled. "Slipping are we, girl?"

    Her sword stopped spinning, coming to a stop in midair, aimed right at his throat. Her smile never faded, but her eyes glinted dangerously. "Sticks and stones, sword-man. Maybe you'd better start finding some, 'cause your words aren't cutting it." Then her head cocked slightly to the side. "Hmmmm. Fix the hair and eyes and you could pass for Drow. A somewhat stupid looking Drow. Did your mother get fucked by some House Garzanayad lackwit?"

    "A tale far beyond your purview. Mature some, and maybe then you shall learn of it."

    "Why bother. Probably boring." She drew back her sword, coiling her body to attack. Saber touched the ring on his finger. A table sprang up from the floor, surprising her and making her step back. In that moment Saber grabbed the table and tossed it at Silthay. Her counter was swift, sword ringing through the stagnant air and slicing through the conjured table. She kicked and shoved the broken pieces away, ready to lunge at Saber and kill him right there, but he was gone. "Why do they always run away." she grumbled to herself.

    Find me, oh Red Queen of the Drow, the voice wafting through her head said, and see how boring I am.

    "Full of surprises, aren’t we?" Silthay said, walking through the field that kept Saber imprisoned and out into the hall. "OK, I’ll play along for now." Her sword began dancing to some wordless tune that she began to hum as she walked without care down the hall.

    **********
    "Do you think it would be inappropriate to tell him ‘I told you so’?"

    "In this situation...yes."

    Serra and Draxx hid behind opposing pillars, each waiting for Drow to plow their way through the doors to the Lord’s meeting chamber. Serra stood, leaning up against the pillar, retracted quarterstaff rolling deftly between her nimble fingers. Draxx knelt, rifle out and already pointed at the twin, magically defended doors that protected this inner sanctum. The high lord and his daughter were surrounded by a thick ring of their personal guard. No running for those two nobles, they had the look of a fight on their faces.

    Saber’s two companions had been in the chamber as the Drow attacked, once again trying to get the Alcarivaran ruler to let him go. Like the other times, it hadn’t been working, and when the Drow attacked it seemed an impossible task. Revealing who they actually were didn’t help matters, yet it did not hurt them either. Instead they found themselves tasked with protecting the lord. For now.

    "We should be trying to find Saber," Serra said. "She’s likely found him by now." There was no need to say who Serra meant by ‘she’.

    "I know. And we likely would be doing that now had you not opened your bloody mouth and told them who we were. You notice those spears of theirs aren’t exactly not pointed at us."

    "You worry too much."

    "I worry at a normal pace, you just have no common sense."

    Something slammed against the door and was repelled by the magic that encased it. Another hit came, and once again it was repelled. Serra and Draxx tensed. After minutes of silence, Serra winced as something hollow sounding struck the barrier. "Priestess," she muttered.

    "Fun."

    The sound came again, and both barrier and door shuddered. It came again, and Serra saw the field buckle under the assault even as the door shivered violently. Once more, and barrier cracked. Again it came, and the shield shattered, the door following after closely.

    Devoted swarmed into the chamber, half of them only to be incinerated as they tripped over Serra’s trap. Three more fell to Draxx’s quick finger. Alcarivaran spears opened up, spitting energy at the others. Some bolts made it through, but the priestess erected a shield in time to protect the rest.

    "Vice Flare!" Serra yelled, reaching a hand around the pillar to guide her spell. The air around the shield immediately ignited, the intensity of the explosion breaching the shield and felling it. "Vak Kruz!" The spell shifted, falling in on itself, converging on a single point. A sound like a lion roaring poured forth from the spell as it ran its course, finally exploding in a ball of intense blue-white flames that left tiled floors melted and pockmarked with burnt patches of what were once Drow.

    "Nice spell."

    "All in a days work."

    **********
    Magic enveloped him as he sped through the labyrinthine corridors of the fortresses dungeon levels. Kept up too long, and he knew Silthay would find him. He loathed running from her, but he knew he needed to. With weapons he might have been a match for her. Sans magic, he might even be able to surpass her, but hers was a talent far greater than his, he realized, and he needed all the help he could get.

    He turned a corner and found himself in a room with three of the guards, weapons at the ready and pointed straight at him. They couldn’t see him, as Silthay’s mistreatment of magical laws seemed to have weakened the dungeons wardings. He rushed them, knocking two aside and taking the third in hand and pushing him up against a wall. He released his shell, revealing himself to them.

    Held firmly in place by the Raphaim’s right hand, the guard looked down at the assassin in fear. "Ah, the princesses little plaything," Saber said, recognizing the guard as the one who was always around during his ‘interrogations’ by the princess. "My weapons and armor, where are they?"

    "Not...hkk...telling you..." The guard managed to choke. Saber tightened his grip and the guards face began turning red.

    "Loathe as I am to waste a useful tool, not acquiescing to my wishes may make me forget what I need you for. Where?"

    "Armory," he wheezed, "Three...hak...three levels up..."

    "Then make the way there ready for me, young pup, for the sake of your beloved princess and your people. Death itself has come to this place, and its favored children are about to war. I would have my own weapons to face the Red Queen. Yours are insufficient." Saber released the guard, letting him slide back to his feet. "Move. Now. She comes."

    The guard went to his two comrades, now recovered, and quickly filled them in. They looked on Saber with equal distrust and fear equal to the first guards, but they eventually, and reluctantly, agreed.


    Silthay swung her sword about lazily as she sauntered down the hall. Blood dripped from its edge, the bodies of her victims decorating the corridor floor behind her. Such little effort it took to kill them, she almost sighed with discontent. She truly hoped this Saber didn’t let her down, he had seemed to have so much potential when she first met him.

    "Come out, come out, wherever you are," she taunted. She could feel him. She was almost upon him. She had decided to play this game of his, but she was quickly growing bored. Just one more turn and she would see him again. Then she was there, stopped at the edge of the corner. Her legs flexed and she hopped into the open, sword held in one hand, aimed parallel to her body into the center of the room. "Found you," she said.

    Saber stood there, twin-sided sword held at the ready, edges glowing white with Alcarivaran magickry. She wondered where he had found that. "So you did," he replied. Both of them moved at once. Their weapons met, edges crackling as opposing energies clashed.

    "All that running just for a weapon?" Silthay asked, her red eyes illuminated brilliantly, amusement riding high in her vision.

    "You would have me fight unarmed? I thought you wanted a challenge, not an execution," Saber replied, the ethereal nature of his strange amethyst eyes betraying no emotion.

    "A challenge." Silthay leaned in, bring her face close to Sabers. She smiled, cruel, deadly, vibrant, amused and alluring all at once. "Yes, sword-man, now I'll see how well you die."
  4. Alcarivar, Phoenix Nord
    May, 1006 NE


    Into the Realm Eternal: Last Symphony Part 2

    The two of them moved effortlessly, their swords whistling through the air, intersecting and clashing blades with each movement. The deadly grace with which they battled was both swift and calculated. No move was wasted. Every act and counter thought out in advance.

    Saber’s twin-bladed sword cut through the air of the guard room, a barely-there flash as he slammed it down into Silthay’s weapon, which had risen to defend even as Saber attacked. Silthay twisted her sword around his, sliding her blade down the length of his, rolling it to ease off and pierce his heart. His body bent, sword scraping along the edge of hers, deflecting it, raising it high.

    Saber’s dodge turned into an attack as his body twisted unnaturally, one leg buckling as he crouched and brought up the other end of his weapon. The Drow leapt over his body even as the sword came up to slash her chest. Her lithe form curved above him, already screwing around so she would face him upon landing.

    His free hand shot up and grabbed her by the chest, slamming her back down to the ground. She leapt away an instant later as his weapon came down to finish her. She laughed as he landed atop a table, giving a slight, mocking bow. "Now, now sword-man, if you wanted to play grabby hands with me, you should’ve thought about that before lighting a different kind of fire in me." She saulted through the air as he raked his sword through where her ankles had just been, landing behind him and giving him a swift roundhouse to the side.

    He flew into the wall, then rebounded off the floor as he fell, coming back to his feet in a defensive stance some feet away from her. She didn’t give him any time to relax, as she was already dashing at him, sword held firmly at her back. Silthay wheeled around, bring her weapon to bear. It met with the hilt of the spear-like twin-sword. She ground the blade into it, trying to snap it.

    Saber’s fist slammed into her chin with an uppercut that jerked her head back violently. He stepped back and spun fast, heeling her in the side and sending her flying into an empty weapon rack. Silthay got back to her feet, wiping at the sliver of blood trickling from her mouth. "Mmm...sweet nectar." She looked at Saber, but he wasn’t there anymore. She caught sight of him running down a hall. "We’re not done playing yet shasa!" She yelled after him, her eyes flaring as she glowered at him. The hall he ran through began rippling with explosions as mortar and other materials blasted around him. "Get back here!"

    His voice floated through her mind again. Where is the fun of the hunt without the chase?

    Ten seconds shasa, then your ass is mine. She said back to him. His reply was mocking laughter.


    The corridor exploding around him, Saber ran as fast as he could. The rippling destruction shot past him without hitting him, shattering the walls and cells as it moved. Lift doors in front of him bent and buckled, falling down the crystalline shaft as they were rent from their moorings.

    Ten. Her voice invaded his mind, just as his had hers.

    He flew into the shaft, leaping off the opposite wall and up the tube. Up one level he grabbed hold of the wall across from the doors there, doors still intact. He jumped towards them, twirling in flight, bringing his executioners sword to bear. The blades cut through the doors and he crashed through, rolling from the ground to his feet without stopping.

    Nine.

    He concentrated, letting new strength flow through his body, increasing his speed. He moved as a blur through the dungeons corridors. He turned a corner. And ran right into a squad of Alcarivaran guards. He stopped dead, ready to attack them should the need arise.

    Eight.

    The forward two lowered their weapons at him, but did not fire. The two looked at each other and nodded. Seven. Their weapons rose and one of them nodded behind him, letting Saber pass. Saber bowed his head briefly in acknowledgment and moved past them without a word.

    Six.

    A ramp led up to the next level. Cold liquid seemed to rush through him as he cloaked himself from the world. No need to stop again if he didn’t have to.

    Five.

    Drow and Alcarivaran soldiers fighting each other in the dungeon, the latter losing the battle. Saber phased back into reality as he pounced on the Drow, cutting into the Devoted and Enskinned before they knew what was happening.

    Four.

    The soldiers stopped firing as he tore through the Drow, not wanting to hit their unexpected ally. He wondered if they were doing that on their own accord, or rather the Princesses pet guard had some clout with them. It didn’t matter in the end. His time was running out, and they were little more to him than an added layer of defense. He pulled his blade free of a Devoted without actually killing him and continued forward.

    Three.

    He wound through the soldiers without so much as a nod, not bothering to wrap shadows around himself again. A waste of energy at the time, speed being more important than stealth now.

    Two! That she practically sang, excitement and amusement riding high in her mental call.

    A second ramp, blocked by a field. He ran straight at the shimmering energy. The air thrummed as he blinked through the gate. He turned a corner after climbing the ramp, going the only way he could. A second guard room loomed ahead. And across from it...

    One! You’ve had your fun sword-man, now it’s my turn.

    Saber heard distant explosions and fighting as he entered the armory.

    **********
    "My lord," one of the dungeon guards, the same one that Saber had warned earlier, said as he ran through the blasted doors of the lords chamber and knelt before him and his daughter. "My lord, the Red Queen has entered the dungeons, and a cadre of her warriors followed suit. Also...the one named Saber is lose. It was he who told me of the Red Queen." He paused a moment. "I believe they are....hunting each other."

    The high lord slammed his fist into the arm of his seat. "Drow in my city, in my residence, and in my dungeons. And the madman who led them here running loose...we must put an end to this immediately!" He jabbed a finger at the captain of his guard. "Send men to the dungeons, I want the Drow, their Red Queen, and this Saber dead!"

    "I wouldn’t do that if I were you," Draxx said, speaking up from his position by the pillar. Serra was still across from him, only she was watching the guard who had brought word of Saber.

    "You think to talk to me out of turn? You, the madman’s accomplice?"

    "Do you want your men to die for nothing? If you do, then by all means, send them down there. Just don’t go saying I didn’t warn you when it starts going badly." The lord glared at Draxx, and so did a few of his protectors. The princess, her guard, and Serra all looked at him with questioning looks. "Do you know what it’s like being a professional killer?"

    "Hardly," the lord said, his voice acid.

    "Then you don’t know what will happen down there. I do. You do not meddle with an assassin, or you’ll end up dead. And when two highly skilled and very deadly ones like Silthay and Anquist actively hunt each other...fight is not the proper word."

    "And what, pray tell, is the proper word?" The lord growled.

    "War," Draxx said simply. "Bloody, violent war. Anything that gets in their way has forfeited its existence, enemy and ally alike. You send people down there and they will die. Your best bet is to sit here, all safe and pretty behind your meatshields and wait until this is over. Or run away, which I somehow doubt you’d do." Draxx caught movement out of the corner of his eye. His rifle rose and pointed directly at Serra. She must have seen this, because she stopped. "Didn’t I just get done explaining the situation, or have you inherited the selective hearing trait of your male forebears?"

    "She’s mine Draxx," Serra said, not even looking at him. Her eyes were focused, intently looking beyond the shattered doors. "Saber can have as much fun with her as he wants, but she’s mine." She pulled the long, stiletto blade from her belt, the same weapon that killed her parents. "I’m going to slam that bitch to the ground and thrust this thing into her fucking black heart. And I’m going to watch the life fade from her eyes...and feel nothing. This isn’t just Saber’s war..." She slid the weapon back into its sheath and left.

    Draxx sighed. "You’re far too caring to not feel anything girl..." he muttered.

    **********
    He slid the gauntlets over his wrists, the black metal blades sliding out, edges glowing with faint, purple light. His armor was already snapped in place, the cloak flowing from his shoulders while all but his eyes were hidden behind the impenetrable mask. Guns and knives were held firmly in their sheaths and holsters. All that remained was...

    "All those lovely gifts you left me," Silthay said smiling, leaning lazily against the armory door. Her blade dripped with the blood of Alcarivaran soldiers. "A girl could get used to that treatment." She raised the weapon, once again tracing circles in the air with it. "You gettin’ all gussied up just to fight poor little ol’ me? Or is the big bad sword-man scared of the little Drow girl?" Her mocking voice turned into a laugh as she finished. "Chase over shasa, I win. Now get over here so I can fuck you up a lot."

    "I think not," Saber said. The snap-hiss of his energy blade coming to life carried through the rooms stagnant air. "A warriors pride demands I kill you with my own weapons, not ones of inferior make." His amethyst eyes glowed as brightly as the blue blade of his sword. The air thrummed as he teleported right on top of her, but Silthay was hard to catch unawares. Their weapons met, just as they had many times before. "I believe we have a war to finish."
  5. Emerlyon, Alcarivar, Phoenix Nord,
    March 1006 NE


    Into the Realm Eternal: Last Symphony, Third Movement

    The light from Saber’s weapon shined in Silthay’s eyes. She smiled at him from behind her own weapon, the wicked and alluring smile of a woman deadly beyond her ken. As the two assassins forced their weapons into each other, the Red Queen looked Saber’s blade over.

    "Ooh...shiney," she said, mocking him. "Can I have it when I kill you?" Her smile broke as she laughed. "Oh yeah, that’s right, you can’t say no when you’re dead, so I’ll just snatch it from you."

    "Amusing," Saber replied in his cold, echoing voice, "your confidence, at least, is not lacking." He went slack, falling back as Silthay slid forward under the force of her own defense. Her eyes went wide as his knee caught her in the stomach. His knee flexed and she tumbled as his foot cracked down on the side of her knee, bending and nearly shattering it. She spun on her injured leg, her swipe hitting him in the side.

    His arm looped around it, holding it tight to his side as he plunged his weapon down to her skull. She parried and pulled a similar stunt, collapsing her leg and letting him fall forward onto her. She flung him off of her, sending him towards the wall. Saber vaulted off the wall as he hit, rotating in midair to bring a foot down on her head. With one hand she grabbed hold of his leg, spun around several times and tossed him into another wall.

    He hit, the materials at his back cracking as she slammed bodily into him a second later. Taking firm hold of his throat, she smiled at him again. "Let’s play outside shasa." Reality bent around them as she warped time and space moving them without moving, so they soon stood atop the fortress. "Can you fly, sword man?" She let him drop over the edge.

    He fell, letting wind scream around him as he cut through the air. A ledge was coming up fast, one that would snap his back if he hit. Just before he did, he rolled his body and used the ledge as a jumping point. He twisted again, this time to face Silthay, whom he knew had launched herself off the edge moments later. A pair of guns replaced his sword, and stiletto bolts of azure energy filled the air as his phalanx pistols roared.

    Silthay’s blade moved in reaction to the attack, once again slicing open reality, but not for her this time. The rift preceded her descent, always sitting before her as the hole that simply sent his attack somewhere else. Silthay felt more than heard the atmosphere vibrate and pop around her, and she almost reacted too late to block the attacking Saber as he appeared above her.

    Their weapons flashed in midfall. His beam saber crackling through the air as hers whistled. Even as the ground rushed towards them they continued their attack, parrying and thrusting each other relentlessly. Meters from the ground they came to another ledge, both using it to spring up and away from the ground.

    Saber crashed through the window of a nearby building, rolling to a crouch and teleporting back outside as Silthay landed on top of him. Atop the building she appeared across from him, her smile more exuberant now than ever. He eyes flashed so brightly, her smile became so wide, that there was no doubting how much she was enjoying herself.

    "Did you see that fall? Exhilarating!" She crowed, twirling her sword in amusement. "I do hope the rest of your kind can give me as much enjoyment as you when I track them down. These damned elves are no fun at all."

    "You will never know..." Saber said, launching himself into another attack.

    **********
    Serra ran down one of the fortresses many corridors, moving past Alcarivaran soldiers lying wounded or dead, trying not to look at them. Looking at them might make her waver. Might. She passed by a window and saw a dark shape fall by. She stopped and stared, only to see Silthay pass. "Well gods damn..." Serra muttered, and ran to the window. Though she knew she should’ve known better, she tried forcing the pane open, but it wouldn’t budge. She muttered and oath and stepped back.

    The exterior wall groaned, then buckled and exploded outward as Serra unleashed an attack. The reinforced mortar fell down the side of the fortress as she stepped to the edge of the smoking hole she had created. Taking a quick look down, she stepped out into the air and let herself fall. Slowly.

    Then she felt a bump and the wind pick up. She looked around and found herself clinging to the side of an Alcarivaran hoverbike, it’s driver looking at her with wide, shocked eyes. "Mind if I hitch a ride?" She yelled over the rustling wind. She blinked violently as a Drow shot before her eyes and slammed into the driver, sending them both flying off and down to the ground. Recovering from her shock, Serra muttered, "guess not" and climbed into the seat.

    The hoverbike began to fall as it lost control, so Serra began to hit the throttle, the clutch, and press every button on the control console she could think of before getting it back under control. Alcarivaran magitech was far different than the more traditional technology that drove Aren’s hoverbike, but she was at least glad the basics were the same. After regaining control she swung the bike around in midair and hovered, looking for any sign of Saber and Silthay. Movemont on a building top caught her eye, and she moved towards it.

    **********
    Light glinted off the silver blade as it slipped from the sheath slung across Saber’s back. With both sword of metal and sword of light held firmly in hand, the Raphaim prepared himself for the next stage of his battle with Silthay. He crossed the blades as she attacked, blocking her thrust and reversing it as he separated the swords. In this moment when her defenses were weak he counterthrusted, but her blade batted away his easily. She stabbed at his head, but he dodged to the side, ducking as she flicked her wrist to try can slice through his neck.

    The two blademasters danced, their fluid movements of attack and defense, parry and riposte, seamless. Saber flipped backwards as he dodged away from one of her attacks, landing and instantly moving back to the attack. He swiped his glowing sword across her, but Silthay arced her back, the blade just barely missing her chest. His other sword moved up to strike her but met only air as she turned her arc into a backflip, slipping through his fingers.

    Silthay returned to her feet, only to find her opponent missing. Her sword went up, cutting through the air, attempting to intercept him as he fell upon her. She looked up and spotted him falling, but the faint thrum of atmosphere forced her spin and bring her weapon down to defend herself as he teleported right next to her. And she went flying as his weapon struck, a powerful telekinetic blast, coming not from Saber himself but the weapon he held, slamming into her.

    She skidded across as she landed, her fingers going to her lips to wipe away the blood from her mouth. The pleasured look that had been so prominent on her face before was now combined with fury. Saber could feel fey energies leaking from her now, whether a side effect of her rage or on purpose he couldn’t tell. It was dangerous, that much he knew as his eyes showed her burning bright with green light. Both Namu-Aklith and Aren Hale had had similar auras about them, but they were controlled, more like taps than waterfalls.

    Silthay blinked, and Saber found himself on the receiving end of a powerful strike, one he just barely managed to block. Already he could feel his muscles straining under the weight of the pressure she was pouring on. It wasn’t just physical pressure either, as the air around them shimmered. Saber felt heavy, like something was trying to crush him. He had only one choice-

    A hoverbike screamed down from above, slamming into the rooftop and plowing a deep path as it skidded across the surface towards them. There was no driver. Saber teleported away as Silthay broke her concentration to focus on this new threat. The Alcarivaran machine crumpled under the pressure she sent at it. As it came to a stop next to her, it looked nothing like it had before.

    Silthay’s red eyes narrowed as she looked for Saber. A low growl escaped her lips as she stalked towards the edge, walking across the divide between buildings, hunting her prey.

    **********
    She was almost there. In fact, she could plainly see that it was Silthay and Saber she had tracked down. She urged the bike forward, demanded it go faster. Faster it went, as an errant fireball flung by a Drow priestess struck its engine and sent it out of control. Even as she struggled with the controls a black form impacted with her, sending her flying off the seat and down to the embattled street below. She heard the bike crash into the roof as she struggled with her attacker.

    The six-armed Devoted gripped her tightly with all its might, all-but-choking the air out of her. Irritated at being denied her vengeance, she flash-fried the Drow despite his closeness, singing herself in the process. She floated to the street, brushing the crispy remains of the Devoted off her tunic. She found herself in the middle of a battle between Alcarivaran and Drow soldiers, mages on both sides flinging spells at each other. Many spells were countered in mid-flight, and they fizzled out, but others were intercepted with other spells, and sparks and embers of fire fell from the sky.

    Serra’s staff came to her hand, extending itself to its full length as she moved in on the Drow.
  6. Emerlyon, Alcarivar, Phoenix Nord,
    March 1006 NE


    Into the Realm Eternal: Last Symphony, Fourth Movement

    The shaft of her staff slammed into the abdomen of a Devoted, and she spun around, bringing the bladed end of the weapon down on its head, severing it from the body. Fire and lightning and ether sparks fell from the sky as spells were launched and intercepted or countered by other spells, creating a shower of fireworks that rained down on the street. A few bodies lay around her, some from her own battle, others from the Alcarivaran soldiers behind her, the two mutually supporting each other.

    A massive ball of flame rained down toward her, but she caught hold of the magic guiding it and ripped the spell from its caster. She tore the spell apart and redirected it, a flurry of fiery darts flying at high speeds towards the Drow forces. In the seconds it took her to do this, a Drow assassin shot from the shadows of a building and struck her. The body blow knocked her down, but with a combination of athletics and magic she flipped herself back to her feet.

    "Ah...the sorceress. You’re the one from the family we were sent to thin out. You’ve got some talent for battle in you girl, but you’re no match for all of us." Three more assassins appeared around her, weapons drawn and ready for a fight. Serra didn’t even look at them, she just gave the one in front of her a sneering smile.

    "You’re in my way," she growled. She reached out with her arms, and in an eyeblink they were engulfed with flames, flames that shot straight out and poured over the two on each side of her. The forceful blow of the fire pushed them back into the buildings lining the street, the flames washing over them, armor melting and melding with the searing flesh beneath. As her attacked faded, all that remained of the two assassins were ruined lumps of smoldering flesh. The assassin behind her launched himself at her, to avenge the death of his brethren, but the street below him shattered as two large slabs of the material broke loose and crashed into each other, crushing him between them.

    "I don’t care how much power you have," she said in a low, raspy voice, "or how many of you there are, nothing is going to stop me from killing that fucking bitch you call your queen. She could have every single fucking god from the past thousand years on her side, every demon, every angel, every elemental source of power standing between me and her. I’ll burn my way through anything and anyone that stands between me and her." She gave the assassin a smile that reminded him much of Silthay herself, and for an instant, he felt a little afraid. An instant is all he had left. "AND YOU ARE IN MY WAY!" Serra roared, and the world around her exploded as a hellstorm erupted with her at the center.

    Ash and ember fell from the sky as the storm faded, the dry wind it created blowing them across the tattered, crumbling buildings. Serra stood in the only spot untouched by fire, her silver hair flowing wildly in the air. She stepped from the small circular patch of unharmed street, her boots crunching through the weakened materials of the road, side stepping the ruined remains of falling buildings, crushing the remains of dead Drow beneath her feet.

    She didn’t look back to see the dead Alcarivaran’s she knew were behind her.

    **********
    "Come out and play, sword man," Silthay said as she bounded to a different building. "Running doesn’t suit you."

    "I did not run," he said in her ear, the barrel of a gun pressing into her neckbone, "I avoided being crushed by an errant vehicle."

    "No excuses!" She cackled. "You think that thing will kill me?"

    Saber pulled the trigger, blowing out her neckbone and throat. "There is only one way to find out." Blood gushed from the wound as she stumbled forward, choking on her own fluids. Hacking and wheezing, Silthay stumbled some more but remain upright, clutching her throat to stem the red tide. She turned to glare daggers at him, but with a slightly surprised smile on her face, she pulled her hand away from her throat. It was healing before his eyes, bone regrowing and throat muscles stitching themselves back together as fleshed crawled over the wound and sealed itself.

    "You’ll have to do better than that," she said in a raspy voice, obviously trying to regain it. "I am unkillable."

    Saber allowed himself to laugh, a deep, rumbling noise that had a hint of madness to it. "I accept your challenge." Knives flew from his hand. Silthay parried them, sending them clinking to the ground, dancing out of the way as Saber’s sword arced through where her head had just been. She twirled an instant later, bringing her own blade down but cutting only air as Saber was no longer there. She continued her spin, blocking Saber’s return thrust as he attacked from behind, but missing a chance to block his foot. The armored boot met her temple and slammed into it hard, doubling Silthay’s vision momentarily.

    She rolled to the side as fast as she could, feeling a brief pain as Saber’s sword met flesh and sliced open her cheek from ear to mouth. Blinking her sight back to normal, she spun to a knee and punched Saber in the stomach, thrusting the pommel of her sword into his chin a moment later and knocking him back.

    Neither was off their feet for long, and their weapons once again flashed through the night. Their battle took them across the entirety of the rooftop, dancing and stepping in tune with each other, dodging and parrying blows that would have been lethal had they landed. Sparks flew as the blades struck each other hard, and the air rippled around them. Saber went flying away, off the side of the building.

    Saber recovered, landing in a crouch, seemingly unaffected by the great height. Silthay landed yards away, with far more grace and contempt for the long drop than he had. He flew at her, a dark blur with sword glinting white. Their blades met and, for an instant, they were locked together. Silthay grinned at him, and he went crashing back down the street as something struck him violently. His sword sparked as it scraped along the pavement, Saber digging his heels and palms into the ground to slow himself down.

    When he stopped there was no recovery pause, he leapt right back into the fight. The Red Queen met him halfway there, sword swinging in from the left to cleave him in half. He blocked, diving beneath their joined weapons to punch her hard in the stomach. He stopped blocking her, her swinging weapon coming within inches as he twisted around it and under it, a swift kick knocking her feet from under her.

    She rebounded immediately, holding herself upright with her palm and using it as a balance as she flipped back to her feet. Her movement was so fluid Saber almost didn’t see the knife in her hand slice towards his face, just barely moving his head in time. The dagger slit the mask covering his mouth open and drew blood from his cheek. Bending his legs, he propelled himself across the street, away from her and throwing a knife her way. It bit deeply into her shoulder, almost lodging itself in, but it continued in its path and clattered to the ground some distance down the street.

    Both on their feet, they leapt at each other again, clashing their blades together rapidly. At this point, no matter the feelings towards each other they had, the looks in their eyes were the same: cold, calculating, emotionless. Two assassins doing battle, the world around them of no consequence at all. With a hiss Saber’s energy blade came to life, the glowing azure edge adding an eerie light to their swordplay. Both weapons went after her then, but Silthay had no trouble keeping up. Her movements increased, blocks and parries intermixed with jabs and cuts, and he responded in kind.

    Eventually they parted, pulling back some distance from each other. Saber crouched, ready for the next assault, swords held parallel to one side, aimed straight at her heart. Silthay stood, her blade held upright in front of her, her lips almost kissing the blade. For a moment they stared at one another, but soon emotion flooded Silthay’s eyes and she laughed. Her hand jerked downward and began twisting her sword in lazy eights again. “We keep this up and one of us is going to be dead before I have my fun!” She quipped.

    He didn’t reply. He watched her warily, the aura he saw around her through his strange eyes was a deep crimson, an aura of unbridled…something. Amusement and rage flitted across her eyes, and something else. He took in her eyes, and her aura, a thought forming. Lust perhaps? He didn’t like the feel of that. It was far from, and far worse than, typical bloodlust.

    “Let’s play a game sword man, you be the cat and I’ll be the mouse.” She laughed again, a maniacal sounding giggle with a sultry hint to it, proving Saber’s theory right. She was in love with fighting, in love with death. His wary look deepened more. “Half an hour, shasa, find me then and we continue our little dance. Don’t, and I get to play.” Her smile turned malevolent. “Don’t keep me waiting.” Her sword was gone in an instant, and she flourished her soul shroud like a cape before disappearing behind it.

    Slowly, after a minute waiting to be attacked, Saber withdrew his weapons and retrieved his thrown dagger. The sound of fighting drew him away from the spot, and he too vanished into the shadows.

    **********
    The city seemed to be burning around her, the mighty city of Emerlyon, trashed by thugs and vandals at the word of their Red Queen, killing without regard. Serra turned down a street, away from the fires. The night had deepened, and the moon gave off little light as clouds began to cover it. She had no idea where she was going but she knew, somehow, she’d come across her parents’ murderer soon enough. As she took a step towards and intersection, she knew she was no longer alone. She was not a soldier, but she’d learned enough in the past few years to notice the things a soldier would.

    A broken step here, a skittering of feet there, dark shapes moving between buildings, coming closer and closer. She stopped in the center of the crossroads, quarterstaff held firmly at her back, the foot-long blade at its tip pointing to the ground. By the sound of them, they had to be a raiding party, as no group of assassins would make as much noise. From their direction, they hadn’t been the ones to set the streets behind her afire.

    They hadn’t noticed her yet, so she made herself known. “Oi!” She yelled. They stopped, staring at her. “Where’s the bitch who leads you?”

    A few of them sniggered at her. “Well, well, what have we here? A little pretty, looking for our Queen eh? Sure, we can take you to her…after we have some fun. You want to be skinned before or after?”

    “Wrong answer.” Two of them exploded without warning, the speaker and his closest companion, spraying blood and chunks of armor through the air. They stood still, transfixed at the sight of their friends’ remains raining down on them. Their shock faded quickly, and they spread themselves out around her. She watched a pair of them, raising her staff to point the blade at them. “Thermo Gord,” she muttered. The two of them burst into flames, their armor falling to the ground as their bodies turned to ash beneath them.

    They seemed to hesitate, now knowing full well she could incinerate some of them, if not all of them, at once. She didn’t want to waste any more time on them. Waves of heat began drifting up from the street, the air began to burn. A thick line of flame coiled its way around her staff as sparks began floating down through the air. Her silvery hair began flowing in waves around her as warm, dry wind flowed by, glinting red and orange as it reflected flame.

    One of the clouds above, heavy with moisture, began dropping thick droplets of water, most of it hissing into steam as it struck an invisible barrier. Serra’s eyes seemed to glow red as fiery lines etched themselves into the street, carving out a magic circle with runes in both the outer line and larger, inner circles. Raising her staff, she slammed the blunt end into the ground and uttered “Thermo Geist” in a soft voice. The larger, intricately carved runes flared as the power of the circle was released. The air seemed to get sucked into the seal before exploding forth in a roar that shattered windows and bloodied ears. The fiery tempest expanded in a nova, the ground rising up as mortar buckled. The Drow raiders were engulfed in a flashfire, their bodies incinerated instantly.

    Serra sank to her knees, her staff sliding from her fingers and clattering to the ground. It began to rain in earnest.

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