Aerion [IC] Rated M

Tamor Bellfiend
Eldur, Raelus
Theme Song: Hear Me

For Kinath to bestow upon them some luck, a mere chance, to catch His Grace in a pleasing mood it would certainly take all the prayers Tamor could muster in those last few steps toward the castle door. The inside of the castle was everything it was rumored to be and more, though none of it interest Tamor in the least. It was more important, crucial, to keep her eyes focused on the ground below her feet, as she felt it might slip away at any moment. Letting Percival and/or Roland to deal with the guards instead of the Raelussians was most likely the better option in the long run. Accidental slippage referring to The Nine was bound to occur, references laced the sentences she formed and it was hard not to refer to something so dear, something so much apart of her. As the doors flung open and the chamber of the king opened Tamor managed a single prayer and a call for safety. His Grace's hair had grayed even more since the last time she laid her eyes on him, not that it was surprising. His and Her Majesty were as regal and poised as Gods, simply stunning.

It wasn't easy hearing Percival raddle on, Tamor dreaded the outcome of this event, and luck wasn't on their side. His Grace absorbed the words of the younger brother and had quickly decided he wanted nothing to do with them, and called for his guards to step forward. They were efficient and fast, it was to be expected out of the guards that protected the Burning King. Seized she was, Tamor didn't know what to do with the strong hands that tightly gripped her. Niolas flew from his position on instinct and only landed on Tamor's shoulder after everything had settled. "Auden," is what she wanted to shout, no, scream to Astrum, but the words died a silent death on her tongue. Instead she peacefully resigned like the rest of the knights eventually did. Disrespect would only backfire on them in the end, as would the Burning King if they weren't careful in the way they responded.

To end up in the dungeons was something one wanted to avoid, rarely did those that entered leave as intact as they were when they came. To keep her wits about her Tamor mouthed the hymns of The Nine, there was a rational reasoning behind the king's actions, and she just had to find it. Had Percival had a twist of the tongue, arranged his words in a way that might displease His Grace? Did each of them bow before him? There were so many factors, but none came together as easily as a puzzle might. The looks on the faces of the other knights were a mixture, angry, frustration, collected, and one was as stoic as ever. What were they to do now, rot in a filthy dungeon all night? No, His Grace was stern but not cruel, his ways were effective not wasteful.

Sitting idly was clearly something Roland was not fond of Tamor noticed as he walked around in his cell spouting off insults, a dangerous thing to do even in the dungeons. A stirring kicked up inside Tamor, his words were poison that ate away at her ever-so-calm demeanor. The strength it took to not say a word was almost unbreakable until his last few sentences came about. All her uncomfortableness about returning home and feelings for Raelus was put aside, an outsider had ridiculed her country like a savage ravaged a village.

"You Ser Knight are out of line with your outrageous ramblings and suggestions. The Ethorian Way you say, might I remind you this is the land who can't even decide who shall sit on their precious throne. You bicker and fight like little children over a precious slab of iron, and you want us to follow your ways? A simple culture you say? As if you lot can have anything simple but your minds. To follow such a simple way would be more than foolish, it would be a mockery of our way, the way we earned to have." The ways trickled out faster and faster as Tamor went on, no longer did she care for Roland but for her country and its monarch. She jabbed her finger toward Roland and with every word she spoke she grew in confidence and in anger. Small passing thoughts became structured sentences shouted at the other knight aiming to burn through his statements. The cell immediately felt smaller than it was the way she moved about in it all while keep her eyes trained on man who had spoken against her King and country. Then she raddled on, "Your lands might be vast but they are full of fools, fools such as yourself. You see yourself as something of honor, but all I see is a knight who doesn't know defeat and when to bite his tongue. I swear to you by Tella's name knight that you should hold that tongue of yours before you find it charred."

The steel doors that kept them locked in the dungeons opened and two guards approached, only for Auden and herself, "You have been summoned by the great King Calason. You will be escorted by us." They spoke and put them in shackles, it was clear what they were to Tamor based on how they were forged. Her guard eyed Niolas carefully like he was deciding if he could somehow work chaining the bird as well. Though, she had only heard of these from her mother, being placed in them had an indescribable feeling to it, almost as if a part of her was sudden... missing.

More surprisingly than that was the announcement itself, His Grace summoned Tamor, why? It was clear that he had only taken the Raelussians, oh how she prayed to the Gods to keep her safe. Seeing King Calason was one thing, but if she were to speak to him she wouldn't know how to go about that. The only thought that mortified her most was if her grandfather was in attendance as well. She had never spoke of a word of her departure to him, or her mother, but chances are neither of them noticed. To force shame upon her family would be unacceptable in both their eyes and that's exactly what this was. Once more Tamor found herself outside the king's room, how this resulted The Nine wouldn't even know.
​
 

Victoria "Alys" Taimor and Varian Sigmund - Garius, Palaven


Phantom pain still racked her body as Alys made her way over to the window that Varian leaned over. She had recovered greatly since leaving Dalenham, mostly due to her eagerness to make it to Palaven and onto Raelus. For now, she was only biding her time.

"I hope this doesn't change anything," Alys mentioned to Varian with regards to the revelation of her identity, leaning out the window next to him, "but then again, hope is just an illusion..." an illusion she was trying to grasp at the moment.

Varian eyed Alys as she approached her and spoke to him. Without having to tell him, he knew immediately that she referred to the big reveal that happened earlier that day. It came as a surprise to him that she was of noble birth, but they all had their secrets, Varian included. He sighed, and looked out the window into the city below. "As long as you can keep firing your bow, I could care less about the rest." He turned his gaze from the window to Alys. 'We all have baggage. Some private, some not as much. In the end, I suppose it doesn't matter. I think the less people in our profession know about each other, the better things would work out." He thought for a moment, then spoke once more. "It's not in my nature to pry. Your business is your own, but I am curious why a noble-born chose this life."

"Hah," she laughed at his idea that she had chosen this life, Alys new fully well that one did not choose the paths they walked in life, rather life put them on that path for a reason. And all paths eventually lead to Infernum. "The Burning King stole my parents from me several years back, I just couldn't stand being around my family. Ever since then, I vowed that I would walk the path given to me by the Gods, become stronger, and steal the frozen heart of the Burning King from him."

Alys felt the dormant emotions stir within her, like twin dragons curling around her stomach, wanting to erupt forth. She clenched her fist harder, trying to fight back the tears in her eyes as she remembered the message sent for them. The last couple of years she had spent training, fighting and growing stronger had culminated in the moment she stepped off the boat onto the Island.

"Ah...I see..." He exhaled deeply, as she finally revealed the purpose of her mercenary life. It would make sense, as the Taimor house hailed from the Golden Isles, and there was much activity with Raelus through the Trader's Waters. Varian was silent for a while, debating on what he should say next. On one hand, he himself had personal experience with revenge. His father had died by an orc raiding party, and if he would have pursued them at that point and time, so many things would have been different today. Maybe, he might not even have been alive. On the other hand, he had no business getting into other's affairs. That was the mercenary code. And it seemed he was about to break it.

"Listen, I'm the last one to be doing this, but if you want my opinion, just drop it. The Burning King is in one of the most fortified castles in Aerion. You'd need an army to crack through those walls, and even that might not be enough. It's a fool's path."

"How can I drop the fact that He killed my parents, burnt them to the bottom of the ocean leaving me effectively an orphan!" Alys was starting to get roiled up, anger pulsing through her veins as she clenched her fists tighter, "he needs to pay for what he did, Gods help me I'll make that happen or die trying!"

Varian sighed. He understood what drove Alys. It made sense. When someone close to them was slain, some sort of retribution is expected. It made Varian briefly wonder why he didn't do the same for his father. Perhaps they weren't as close as he imagined. Either way, he knew he was a better man for not pursuing revenge. He wanted Alys to get that same chance. "You can drop it for two reasons. One, they're dead, and nothing you can do will bring them back. Two, you're alive, and you can actually still make something of your life." Varian looked down at the city below through the window. The body of the criminal was already being cleared away from the execution grounds.

"If I could bring them back, I would in a heartbeat, but there's nothing I can do about that now. What I can do is take from the man what he took from them." She looked to the horizon, seeing the bright smiles of her parents reflected in the light of the setting sun. All she ever wanted to do was make them proud, make them happy to have her as a child and there was no doubt in her mind that she could do that now, "I have made something of my life, I gave it all up long ago to become the person I am now that will take down the Burning King once and for all." Alys was adamant this was the path she wanted to walk, in her eyes, she could see nothing but the path she now walked.

The Highman shook his head at her response, a slight grunt escaping his mouth. "People have always died in the name of those long dead." He said, partially to himself and partially to Alys. He turned to her. "You'll die. You know that, right? If it was simple stroll to the castle of Eldur and knocking on the front gates of the throne, and slaying the man, you'd have my blessing. But Gods damn it, Alys, there's no way you'd make it. Why waste your life? You've got a place among us now. You're good with a bow. We can use you. And if we get the jobs done, we can live like kings!"

"You don't understand! I know I'll die, I accepted that long ago when I walked out of the gates of Rowanion. I'll never be able to fully live my life without having him having lied dead at my feet. I don't want to, I can't live like a King with his still alive, reminding me of the one reason my parents now rest at the bottom of the ocean!" She was starting to get frustrated with Varian, he didn't know how she felt, he didn't know what she was going through, he was just trying to use her like everyone else in goddamned Aerion. She slapped the side of her clenched fist against the marble wall, biting back the pain that now stung her draw hand.

She took a deep breathe in, soaking the last of the sunlight that fell upon the city. "Everyone has their paths to walk in life, my path leads me to the Burning King. Whether I make it or not is for the Gods to decide."

Varian was beginning to see that she had long ago made up her mind about this. It didn't seem like anything he would say could change her mind. "Gods damn this," Varian cursed. "Ullur calm our anger..." He muttered under his breath. "Fine then. You want this? I won't stop you. But at least think about it as we do this job. At least do that for me."

"I'll do it. This is the last job I work for you guys. I finish it, and I'm heading to Raelus. No emotions, no arguement, you let me part ways so I can do what I must." Alys turned her back, feeling the last light heat up her spine, "that's the least you can do for me."

​
 

Varian Sigmund, Tower of Absolution, Garius, Palaven


The remainder of the day Varian spent wandering the tower. He debated going outside and seeing the city, but ultimately decided against it, as he didn't wish to somehow cause an incident that would further inflame the local citizens. He figured it would be best instead to remain locked up for the moment, and await the day's passing, so that they would be able to get on with their meeting with the Voice tomorrow, and figure out where the shard they needed to collect is. Dinner was eaten in the hall shown earlier in the day. It was spectacular, but as expected, none of the Palvanese Senate, nor any other dignitaries chose to join them. Instead, the Dragons of Dalenham enjoyed a quieter evening among themselves. Varian actually preferred it that way. If a noble of some sort would have to join them, the mercenaries wouldn't be able to act themselves. He preferred to let them act as they please, and say as they please, without the chance of offense to anyone. That was apart of the mercenary life after all: the freedom to do what one wished. Although, now that he thought on it, he wondered if some of the others wouldn't have minded dining with nobles to begin with. Alys, or Victoria, had turned out to be one. He wondered if any of the others were running from such a life as well.

After dinner, Varian departed to his quarters. Each mercenary was given a separate room, lavishly decorated with white, engraved furniture, including a desk with a copy of the One Holy Book on it, and a window with a view of the city. Varian discovered that dignitaries or people of high rank or importance were typically given these rooms when they were scheduled to meet with the Palvanese Senate, or on those rare occasions with the Voice himself. He learned that almost no outsiders have ever gotten the chance to meet with him directly, and even very few citizens have done so. In fact, the Voice would typically only be seen by Merek Culliver or another member of the Senate. Certain religious holidays would have the Voice come out onto the balcony of the Grand Cathedral, but few have seen the man up close. Varian took note of the groundbreaking event that was to take place, then. They, as simple mercenaries, with (presumably) no noble birth or background, would meet the man hailed as the bridge between the mortal world of Aerion and the One God. Even if he didn't believe in their religion (which he didn't), he understood the significance. Though, truth be told, he would have preferred to have given their instructions or assignment from a middle man, as to not risk some insult. The Palvanese were quite easily insulted, it seems, and as he heard, insult, even a minor one, to the Voice was punishable by death.

It was the dead of night. He turned in early to try and get a good night's rest for the following day, and he presumed he would do it easily even with the guards patrolling outside of their rooms. Yet as the hours passed, Varian found himself eventually lying in his comfortable bed, but strangely unable to sleep. He couldn't explain why either. He wasn't uncomfortable with his surroundings. There was no loud noises keeping him up. The weather was mild and the night air which breezed through his open window was cool and fresh. There was no pungent smell in the air like the one which lingered in Dalenham (or all of Eveamoor, really). He couldn't really explain why he couldn't fall asleep. It was almost as if he was forgetting something, as if something was out of place. He didn't know why, but he felt uncomfortable, like a lingering presence haunted over him and cast a dark shadow, preventing him from having a soothing thought. He tried examining the room from his bed, but the darkness kept most of it from him. He saw the silhouettes of furniture placed around, including the desk next to his bed, and a chair near it where he kept his equipment. He drew his eyes to the door, or the shadow of it, and saw it closed. He then looked towards the window, and the little bit of light which seeped through the opening. As he gazed long and hard at the window, a realization began to form in his mind. Below his bedsheets, his hand gripped his axe, anxious to try to make out his thoughts, when he suddenly realized: There was complete silence. No guards patrolled outside of the doors anymore, and probably weren't doing so for quite a while. His gaze continued to remain on the window, to which he realized that he himself had never actually opened that window. The reason he was having trouble sleeping was because the sounds of boots in armor stomping outside of his door, and the cool air blowing on him was actually making him too comfortable, and for that reason, he felt out of place.

Picking all of this up, Varian was quick to react when he heard the creaking of feet at the edge of the room. He shot up instantly, and threw his axe right into the corner of the room. The slicing of flesh was heard, and a loud thud followed. As he approached the side of the room, he could make out the body of a man, dressed in black, lying dead in a pool of his own blood. Varian leaned next to him, and flipped him over, ensuring he was dead. He saw the axe lodged right into his chest. He was covered completely in black, event a hood over to mask his face. He shook his head, removing the axe from the man's chest, and storming over to the chair where his other axe lay by his equipment. Hurriedly, he picked it up and headed out the door. Once in the hallway, he found all of the light were out, except one which still hung at the far end of the long hall, though it was dim and barely gave off any light in the area. There was not a single guard in sight, though Varian was sure he saw at least a dozen patrolling the halls before they all retired to their rooms. Probably paid off, or they're in on it too, he thought, as he ran down the hall and toward the other rooms where the rest of the mercenaries slept. Loud crashes and sounds came from a few of their rooms, causing Varian to pick up speed as he approached them gripping his axes tighter. The Dragons of Dalenham were the target of an assassination attempt.
 
>> AVA
>> Garrius, Palaven
After nobody had answered Avangeline's question and Varian and Alys (or was it Victoria now?) just disappeared, her and Nem left to go exploring. Of course, she wasn't allowed in a lot of places but she could admire the decor and imagine how much it was all worth. It was too bad everything was so heavily guarded, otherwise Ava could guarantee it would all go into her pocket and she would be out of this place faster than .

Dinner came and went and Avangeline was shown to her room. Again, it was probably one of the most well furnished places she had been since she had left her castle home in Falke, so she appreciated the comfort. And the sheets. Boy did they smell nice. It was a thousand and a half times better than what the merchant had given them. Maybe Avangeline could take the sheets and they wouldn't notice.

After she made a bed out of one of the many blankets on her bed for Nem, she slumped on the bed and it really didn't take long at all before she nodded off to sleep.

* * *

A bark and a lick on her face jolted Avangeline awake and she opened her eyes to see Nem over top of her, looking exceptionally worried. What was going on? Nem only did things like this if something bad was happening.

"What's going on, boy?"

There was a crash from outside and her door swung open. The marauder didn't waste any time and lunged at Avangeline, a glint from the light outside shining on his (or her) dagger, clutched rather menacingly. She rolled out of the way, landing a kick to the face, forcing him back onto the ground. Nem joined in, going for the neck. Avangeline picked up her things as her wolf pulled at his neck, turning her lovely white sheets into a murky red. Aw, now there was no use in taking it now that they were ruined.

She unsheathed her swords and made her way into the hall, greeted by a lack of guards and... someone was running towards her! She armed herself, but a bark from Nem told her it was a friendly. Oh! Varian!

"Varian!" Avangeline said, the Highman looking as tired as ever. "Do you know what's going on? Did a guy try and kill you too??"​
 
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