Young Writers Society

Silas Quinn

It was strange the way that war took a man. Some gathered their family and any property they could carry on their backs and high tailed it out of there, while others, like Quinn, were drawn to the battlefield. Not that it quite deserved that name yet. No war had taken place so far, but rather a massacre. There had been many losses on the opposing side and few on their own. Very few. One less than there might have been, thanks to Quinn.

"Think nothing of it, my friend! It was merely chance, I just happened to be in the right place at the right time!" Quinn backed away from the injured man and his chorus of healers who had already begun to strip him of his armour and expose his hairy flesh. This was not a part of social interaction Quinn wanted anything to do with. Avoiding the praise would have been much easier had it been a tavern brawl where he would have bumbled and tripped about and seemed to save the man accidentally, but, in the heat of a real battle, he'd been everything a knight should be. He'd been fierce, quick, unrelenting and controlled. He'd also been as cunning and liberal with his morals as any other mercenary. That was where this knight should have known better. Known better than to put up his sword before a seemingly disarmed opponent. Known better than to expect that an enemy should carry but one weapon or fight fair on the field. Knights always failed to recognise that battles had different rules to their professional duels. Sometimes Quinn was glad he'd never completed his training to become a knight. Sometimes he was glad that he'd learned the rougher side of survival.

"Come, there must be something I can do for you, good peasant. The debt of Sir Partridge is always returned!" The knight swatted at the healers' hands and made a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat. Quinn backed even further away and felt the rush of cold air at his back. About bloody time; the exit to the healer's tent.

"Then buy me a drink some time," Quinn called out before stepping outside and hurrying away. Spending time with the knights was not a good idea, not when one might recognise him. Fortunately though, the army camp was a large one and the knights were camped in their own, secluded spot, far from where his own tent was pitched. It should no be hard to avoid further notice.

Slowing down as he neared his own quarter, Quinn nodded at a few fellow soldiers he recognised and approached them at a casual stroll. He hailed them and was near to joining their group when a commanding voice called out.

"Hey, you!" Quinn half turned to face the man and pressed his most winning simper onto his face. This was one of the officers. His superior. "The watch is short a man, you'll do. Report for duty at the front."

"Yes, sir," Quinn said readily but it was with reluctance he moved away from the companionship of his fellows. The enemy weren't expected to attack again so soon. It would be a dull, quiet watch.

Malik

Malik was grinning as their horses pounded the dirt path. It was a childlike glee that possessed him. A whisper of logic told him that it was the adrenaline from the ambush combined with nostalgia for his childhood when he used to ride his father's horses. But the emotions swept over his rational mind. He felt euphoria even in the atmosphere of dread and fear the war had brought. Even after he felt the cold hand of death upon him just hours before. His heart thumped. His breath was quick and painful. His hands trembled on the reins.

They were riding fast for the fortress of Gor Nathal. To warn them of the sheer vastness of the threat that all of Anaphis faced. The letter the Church of the Radiant Soul had entrusted with him was deep inside his cloak. He could feel the cold paper against his body reminding him of his task.

His task. The astronomical improbability of him being chosen as a messenger to deliver reinforcements for the beleaguered Karniss still befuddled him. It was true that during his brief sojourn in Anaphis he had made inroads into local government and gained a manner of influence unexpected for an outsider from a distant land. But nonetheless the sheer trust the Church bestowed on him confused him.

He did not like to be confused. He remembered when they came for him, just after the invading force was spotted.

“Zakar Rabanus,” the man had said, bowing low to the ground. “It is a great honour to meet you. We have a favour to ask of you.”

It was the use of his holy title that got his attention. Few knew he was a Guardian of the Shinkar, especially this far from the land of his birth.

In the inner temple of the Church of the Radiant Soul they had treated him with unrestricted respect and politeness, like he was a travelling King. His blue robes and dark complexion had contrasted almost comically with the white, shining decorations of the Church.

“We have singled you out, great Zakar,” the high priest had announced. “We have prayed to the Light and we have seen you shining in our dreams like a beacon.”

As a religious man, he had bowed to the request, as preposterous as it seemed. The fate of Karniss was at too great a risk to dabble in a spot of theological criticism. Him, a servant of the One True Lord, being chosen as a Beacon of the Light? It was blasphemous. He was no prophet. The ways of the Lord were mysterious, though, and he had swallowed his objections and accepted the task of delivering their message to Gor Nathal.

His mind was jerked back to the present by the smell of burning. They galloped through a dead village, bodies everywhere. Blackened houses and dried blood. It was oddly quiet. He saw Gleam slow her horse, looking distressed. Malik brought his horse next to hers.

“It would be imprudent to pause now,” he said.

“These people...” she whispered.

“These people are beyond our help now. We have to help save Karniss.”

At the mention of Karniss she rediscovered her resolve. “Yes. Yes we must.”

Malik's opinion of Gleam had evolved in the short time she had pledged herself to safeguard his mortal existence. When he had first seen her standing in the temple, clutching her candle, he had judged her naïve. She had a sword at her side but her faith pledged mercy and compassion. When the time came, could she really kill? Perhaps, he conceded, some part of it was that she was a woman. But it was also her youth, her kind eyes, her pale skin. She did not look like a hardened warrior.

That was until he had watched her in combat. She had cut apart her enemies with ease. Even as her brethren fell, she saved his life, stalwart and unstoppable until the end.

They resumed their previous pace. The horses were tired but steady. Much to Malik's dislike they had already run two horses into an early grave. It was the only upside of losing four men; they had three horses each and could make it to Gor Nathal much quicker. Trees and fields rushed by. The euphoria that had previously possessed him turned into fear. This was not his place. He was man of science and learning, of faith and intellect. He should not be galloping madly like a soldier to garner reinforcements.

In the distance he made out blurred towers.

“We're almost there!” Gleam called. “Come on.”

Doris
“And here I was, thinking I was travelling with adults.” Doris gazed at the laughing pair with indulgence and a smile of her own, before her eyes shifted over tables and bodies, to the exit through which Dsar had just gone. “I doubt one person alone would be up to the task, in any case.”

She sipped at her drink, held back a grimace at the flat, lukewarm taste of it. One thing she’d never get used to, the mediocre ale in those shady pubs. You’d think a village known for its well, hallucinogenic or not, would have decent drinks, but apparently that was too much to hope for.

A sigh, and she rose to her feet. “I’ll go and make sure no one gets killed over this.” By which it was very obvious she meant more the guards and other unlucky souls who might have the bad idea to meddle with an annoyed Dsar than she herself. "Come along once you're done laughing?" One day she’d get her companions to understand that some things were better solved with a few well-placed firm words than by waving steel around or making snide comments.

Of course, then her life would get extremely boring.

Gravel crunched under the heel of her boots as she stepped outside and looked about in an effort to locate her errant party member, passing over the odd stray carriage and passerby until her eyes alighted on a familiar green cloak not too far away. There. She hastened her pace to catch up, only slowing once she drew level with the elf, careful to leave enough space that she wouldn’t feel invaded. Cornering annoyed mercenaries never ended well, in her experience.

“Walking in as though you were about to punch the first man to look at you strangely will not do you any good. You know how those guards are.” A wry smile. “Do you even know where we’re going?”

Dsar threw her a sidelong glance. Looked controlled enough, which was a relief. Not that she’d been too worried, but it didn’t hurt to be sure. “Can’t you hear?”

Elves and their hearing. All she could pick up was the sounds of voices and steps on the streets, and, only very thinly, a whisper of water underground that was more her magic reaching out than any sensory perception, so she shook her head no, looked askance.

“Singing.”

Oh. Her mind flashed back to the pub, the girl singing. Fair enough.

"Do me one favor? Once we're there, let either Kade"--speak of the devil, she thought as footsteps crunched behind them; they'd finally caught up--"or me do the talking. You can glare them into submission."

Kade

Kade fixed his stride beside Luci as the pair neared their comrades in the streets. Overhead, sparse storm clouds loomed with a tense promise. Dsar was crouched, her woodland cloak brushing the gravel beneath their feet with each silent breath she took.

He stopped, staring at her over Doris’ shoulder as he whispered, “Do you think she’s about to pounce?”

Doris grinned and nudged her elbow into Kade’s ribs. “I believe she’s tracking her voice.”

“There’s a voice?” Luci arched a brow, listening into the faint winds.

“Elven ears, Luci.” Kade’s lips tugged into a smile as he watched Dsar more closely. Something bothered him, though, as she began eyeing the buildings.

“None of these houses are fit to be a prison,” she sneered, staring back at the three. “They flaunt their nerve, calling us tander and have the audacity to boast nothing more than a cottage to house their criminals?” She scoffed.

Doris peered off down the rock-laden road, staring at the cobble fountain in the square. “Perhaps they are quick to execute.”

Kade pondered the idea, vaguely horrified.

“Kade, do you remember our time in Morgal*? When we sat and spoke with their queen?”

He slowly nodded. “Yes, Sveta--she was a polymorph.” He shook his head. “Why do you ask, Doris?”

“In Belinsk, criminal conduct was processed within the hour of apprehension, remember?” She shook her head, eyes distant. “Perhaps these Garlands are no different than Queen Sveta’s followers.”

Kade’s gaze darkened as he peered to Dsar; her stare grew vacant, feral. “Then we have no time to waste.” Doris and Dsar nodded.

Luci shook her head, crossing her arms. “Kade, how do we even know this girl is innocent?” A pause. “We’d be disrupting their justice system for no reason.”

The trio turned to Kade, who slowly nodded. “You’re right...” The young mage bit down on his lip, pondering. After a moment, he grinned, looking up to the three. “I have an idea.” Dsar grinned and drew her knife. “...that involves hurting no one.”

__ __ __

“Okay, Doris. I’ve seen you do this before.” Kade was standing just behind her, his arms draped over her own. The two stood by the fountain in the square, eyes closed and focused. “We just focus.”

Small droplets of water began rising from the fountain.

“Imagine the time you pulled water from the rock for that poor Wolfkin Cub.”

A stream of glistening residue lifted from the pool.

“And the pools of Bethesda you stirred--remember the man you healed there.”

Kade focused himself in, drawing the moisture in the air into ringlets of condensation, breathing out into the atmosphere as clouds began to form around the two. They had to be careful with breathing--too much of the Dream Water, and they could fall into hallucinations themselves. The two breathed out and pulled further from their energy, spreading the clouds into a fine, dazzling mist around them.

“Luci,” Doris murmured, queueing her in. The girl fanned out her fingers, drawing in crystalline energy from the dense atmosphere. Slowly, gradually, the mists began to fragment, shifting into dense clouds.

“So these clouds,” Dsar mused, “will be enough to delude a human?”

“That’s what we’re counting on,” Kade quipped. “If not, then Dsar can have a field day.” He nodded to Dsar and smiled down to Doris, who had draped her light fingers on Kade’s hands, gradually refreshing energy. "I'm counting on one good blast of this mist to do the trick." She peered up, smiling softly, and looked to the clouds around them.

“Let’s find the girl, eh?” Luci interjected.

Kade nodded. “The girl.”


___________________________________________
*Morgal is a Kingdom far to the north of Anaphis, inhabited mainly by beast-like polymorphs. The Capital City is Belinsk. Kade and Doris traveled through this Kingdom years ago in their early journeys together.

Eamon d'Arnise

The tracks looked fresh. However, they also may have looked old.

Eamon d’Arnise sighed and curled his lips into a frustrated pout. He had tracked the Lorokan from the charred remains of Gor Kadesh, a tiny hamlet North and East of Karniss, all the way to a concealed mountain pass West of the capital. What the mage and his posse were doing that far from their battalion, Eamon didn’t know. What did know, however, was that they would die. Every one of them. They had slaughtered the citizens of Gor Kadesh and razed their town, leaving only smoking skeletons and scorched earth in their wake.

Regardless, he was on the right path. Multiple booted human tracks and multiple boot-less humanoid prints supported that idea. He tapped his fingers to his lips and sighed again before setting off at a light skip. Oh, the tedium traveling by foot. As ridiculous as it was having to walk many miles a day at a brisk pace to keep up with his quarry, however, the ridiculously-garbed rogue found the silence doubly so. He would far rather be locked in a cage with a sex-starved, cross-dressing ogre than be alone on the road for a week--which he had been. His feet were tired, his ears were cold, and there was a finger-length gash in his cloak, courtesy of a particularly vicious low-hanging tree branch.

Logically, the group of ten was no more than a day in front Eamon. They would be forced to use caution while moving through Coranel’s territory. Eamon, however, could move about as he pleased; for though he and the city guard were not on the best of terms, he was confident that his wits, his toes, or his gold could dissuade them from taking him into custody. He would reach them later that day.

He adjusted his beret and pursed his lips again, this time letting slip a merry tune as he skipped along the trail. He with drew a small, blackened wooden pipe from one of the many pouches on one of his many belts, rolling it over in his hands. He set it a’twirl over and through his fingers, a trinket he’d picked up from a corpse in Gor Kadesh with which he may have once had a conversation.

The time for blood would be soon.

Cellardor

Cellador sang, she sang softy quietly, magic, not volume carrying her words into the wind. She stopped singing, the world turned silent. The guards where looking at her, staring at her in a way that made her feel uncomfortable. A look she didn't quite understand. She sat on the small wooden stool, rather cold and uncomfortable. She wondered what she was accused of and who accused her. If she knew... what she would do... She pushed the bad feelings away and took a deep calm breaths. Breath in and out, in and out until all the feeling disappeared, trapped into the cage of emotion what she kept secret in her vast cavernous mind.There was something in the air, water vapor, condensation floating in the air. There must be somebody powerful near by. The Dreamwell water was becoming dream clouds. The raised a hand to her mouth, weaving a light enchantment with the little energy she had left. Should protect me from it's hallucinogenic effects, she thought, finishing off the spell quickly. She coughed, fresh unsullied air drifting down into her lungs. She hummed a note, and begun to sing again. Hoping her rescuers came before they threw her into the deep waters of the Dreamwell, her life and her mortality lost forever.

Dsar paced back and forth, flipping her knife about in her hands and quickly running her thumb down the edge, stroking the newly sharpened edge. The other three were working, eyes closed and faces concentrated, but it was all happening so slowly. Dsar wanted action, and her feet wanted to be moving. She quickened her pace. Luci opened one imperious eye and shot Dsar a look, and Dsar realized that she was being distracting. She abruptly stopped midstep, sheathed her knife, and fell into a squat.

Dsar warily eyed the magic-users, and shifted uncomfortably. The clouds accumulating over the were slowly becoming more and more tangible, taking on a pale blue hue. She held her breath, and hoped for the best. She still wasn't entirely sure about this plan. Knives seemed so much more straightfoward. All this magic mumbo-jumbo made her nervous.

The troop proceeded West. They were mounted, it was faster that way. The cavalry forces for the Ghosts were as impressive as any part of them. Marlon liked the speed it afforded, it always seemed to work in his favor.

"Troop HALT!" Marlon ordered. The troop stopped and Marlon brought out his spyglass. Something was moving along the plain. Two riders were galloping quickly toward them and behind them... were seven more riders. Though they were far off, Marlon recognized them easily; he had seen many like them through the spyglass.

"It looks like Lorokans are chasing down a messenger team," Marlon said aloud. There was a stir among the other riders.

"Ira! Take first lance and secure the messengers. Bring them straight back to me. Captain Foster, engage the Lorokans with second and third lances!! Fourth lance is with me!!!""

Malik

I shall know no fear for the Lord is my Guardian.

He whispered the words that had comforted him since he was a child.

Lances flashing in the sunlight. A whole troop of cavalry converged on them rapidly. The air stuck in his throat.

Help was too far away.

Behind, the Lorokans were gaining on them impossibly fast. He daren't look but all his senses rang like alarm bells in his mind. The threat was close. He could hear the hooves thud like war drums. And then, the world seemed to pause for a moment, slowing almost a still. The air was heavy. He stared in horror as an arrow whistled through the air and impacted in the rear of Gleam's horse.

A cry of animalistic pain and the beast toppled.

Malik's hand was on his crossbow before he even knew it. Adrenaline filled his blood. Sweat flooded his brow. It still took all the bravery his body could bring to bear to turn his horse into danger's way. A loose mess of Lorokans sped towards him on huge horses. They nonchalantly notched arrows to their bows.

He took a deep breath and began to load his crossbow clumsily, fear engulfing him. Gleam was on the ground, her horse beside her. The Lorokans and Malik were equidistant from the unconscious paladan, but they were charging and he was standing still with just one bolt against twenty riders.

He aimed his crossbow with a shaking hand, and trotted his horse forward.

I shall know no fear--

And then, out of nowhere, it was fifty-one versus twenty. The Lancers swept past him like water around a rock. They glinted silver and gold in the sunlight, a mass of tall horsemen clad in full plate.

Arrows hit and riders fell. He couldn't see from his position at the rear but heard the smash of steel and the clatter of bodies as the lancers' charge smashed into the Lorokans. Gleam was nowhere to be seen. She was in the middle of the fight, somewhere, serenely still as the battle raged on top of her.

A Lorokan rider broke free of the combat and yelled incomprehensibly. He charged for Malik, his sword raised high.

I shall know no fear--

He pulled the trigger.

--for the Lord is my Guardian.

Luciliana

Luci stared absently at the mists. She held out her hands to them, watching the swirls of color twist in and out of each other; purples and greens and blues all morphing around each other creating a collage of hues. Doris seemed as out of it as she did, even with their combined strength, evoking on the level they were was still a difficult feat. She smiled, feeling her own talents swell within her, tasting that tiny bit of euphoria that calling the elements always caused.

“Well, are you done yet?” Dsar asked, looking impatient and on edge.

Luci grinned at the elf’s discomfort. She was always amused by those that were edgy around magic, and her ever laughing attitude about it had gotten her into trouble more than once.

“Yes, I think that should do it.” Doris piped in, looking quite pleased.

Luci pulled the whirling mists into her hands, unable to wipe the childish grin from her face. “Well, let’s get on it then,” she said. “This could certainly cause some fun.”

“Or it could be a disaster.” Dsar said dryly.

“Like I’ve said, could be fun.”

Luci giggled quietly as she saw several sets of eyes roll at her. “Alright, alright, let’s go.” She conceded.

Finding the outpost was not difficult, and Luci wondered why they were going to so much effort when she saw the so called guards keeping watch. Still, she continued on with the plan.

The tower was quite tall, and there was a small staircase that led to the top. Luci found herself getting a bit too excited for herself, and it took all her might to keep from bouncing from foot to foot in anticipation.

She looked to Kade. “Let me do this one, you know I can handle it alone. It will look far less conspicuous if only one of us goes into the tower rather than all, anyways.”

Kade groaned, but she could tell that he saw the logic in her choice.

Luci met her eyes with Kade’s. “ I promise you, I won’t botch this. I understand it’s important to you. Let me do this alone, please.” She could tell she was pleading, and it was out of her character. It had been so long since she had the opportunity to really use her skills, and her fingers were itching for it.

Kade gave her one slight nod, and Luci backed away, holding the mists out before her like a precious gift.

She took the stairs quite slowly, not wanting to disturb the ancient magics that she held in her hands. It was important that nothing be disturbed, and containing it was key. She reached the top and stepped into the dim lighting.

“Hello, gentlemen,” she said, glancing up through her lashes. “I’ve brought you a gift.”

She held out her palms, watching as the two men looked between themselves in confusion, she blew on the mist, muttering a quiet command. The ball levitated into the air, hovering for a moment before turning molten. She heard a shout of confusion from one of them, before the now solid looking mass struck out for them. The man’s cry was cut short as the watery looking stream rushed into his mouth. The second man tried to scream, but he too was silenced within moments. She felt as the dream mist rushed away from her, draining away from her in one glorious rush.

The two guards stood dumb, a glazed look of adoration slathered across their features.

“Now, tell me where the bard is.” She demanded.

Silas Quinn

The troops were never stationary for long and sure enough, a small platoon of them were on the move again, riding to the West. Quinn was happy enough to be selected, since it meant not having to do guard duty. Then again, this was almost the same thing, just far more interesting since they were sure to run into trouble with the commander leading the pack. Marlon Grey didn't just attract mercenaries to himself, he also seemed to have an uncanny way of attracting the enemy soldiers, right into the heart of his ambushes.

This time, however, it seemed that the Lorokans were the ones doing the ambushing. Quinn didn't get much of a look at the situation before he was riding down with the first lances. But that was okay. He just followed orders anyway and right now they were to secure those messengers. Only one was immediately visible to Quinn, the other having been swallowed by the clash of lancers and Lorokans, but this looked the more likely to be a messenger. If they lost the guard, so what, so long as the message stayed intact. Quinn and the other lances rode down toward him, just as a rider broke free from the general fray and charged straight for their guy. Quinn pressed his horse to move faster but knew he wasn't going to make it in time. A good thing the messenger had some skill with that bow of his.

"Well, that was a nice shot," Quinn said in a jovial tone as he reached the man's side first. Then the rest of first lance poured in and they formed a protective ring around the messenger. But Ira wasn't content with just the one.

"You men with me, the rest of you, get him to the commander!" Ira shouted before leading her section into the field to join second and third lance.

Since Quinn was part of, 'the rest of you', he turned his horse and they closed ranks more tightly around the messenger who was hopefully not shitting himself too much to remember how to ride his horse.

Kade

“How astounding would it be,” Kade pondered aloud, “if we were to suddenly be able to harness the energy in lightning?”

Dsar arched a brow, witling down a limb of a tree into one cylinder. “In the elven lands, our power stems from magic, from our spirit trees.”

Kade’s hesitated, recollecting his damnable sin ages ago. “And what would happen if the trees died?”

“This has only happened twice—once because of a great trial by fire, and once years ago, now called The Blitz. It was a trial of the sky’s power.” Dsar sighed and peered up at the tower. “Both times, the civilization akin to the trees died.”

“That’s awful,” Doris murmured, her eyes cast onto the sky. Kade watched the blues shiver as she watched the stars, seeming almost to pray. “In Harapa,” she said, “there is said to be a wellspring of energy that feeds both water and life to the town.” Her gaze drifted down to Dsar. “Legends have it that, if the wellspring ceased to provide, anyone who had passed through Harapa would swiftly wither and die.”

“Encouraging,” Kade teased, and Doris smirked.

“I hardly think that the day you spent charming me out of the courts counts as time to be cursed to Harapa’s Wellspring.”

“You may have a poin—“

“Let’s go.” Luci bounded from the guard tower with a key in her hand, and on the key what looked like a ripped shred of undergarments.

The three didn’t question her, but stood from their hiding place and followed her, mostly silently. After a few moments of walking towards the southern end of town, Doris chimed in: “So the fabric on the key is—“

“Yes.”

“And you got the key by—“

“No.”

“Lovely.” Kade smirked and followed quietly. After several more moments of wandering, they stopped in front of a large, stone building with a wooden sign built over the gateway, unguarded.



“…and I suppose this was nowhere in your guidebooks, Kadence?” Luci stared at him incredulously, a hidden grin behind her lips.

“…let’s just go.” Kade grumbled and led them down into the sub-city.

Gleam

All around me the familiar chaos of battle was rearing it's bloodied mug. I lay on the ground in a strange calm; the only way to defeat Chaos was with Order. Slowly I drew my sword and surveyed the battlefield for targets. My shining blade whipped through the dust thrown into the air by the might of seventy horses rearing and bucking.

For a minute I stumbled around, feeling my battered body pound along with the underlying frantic beat of warfare. My vision cleared a little, and I was able to recover a little bit. I embedded my weapon hilt-deep into a Lorakan Dwarf, before tugging it out and spinning around to meet the weapon of a human rider fiercely brandishing a battle-ax.

I almost collapsed once more from the power behind the man's blow, but luckily found my footing, and shoved my sword into the rider's chest. He fell in a heap on my shoulders, and I threw him off me in disgust.

A momentary break in the confusion allowed me to search for Malik, and with a frantic exhilaration I scrutinized the orchestra of violence for him. He was brandishing the crossbow that I had seen him carry with him wherever we went, as was using it to defend himself from a crazed rider breaking from the fray.

Then the moment passed and the glimpse of Malik disappeared in the swarm of beasts. I twirled and weaved my way through, hacking through the sinews of the horse's legs and inflicting damage upon their riders. I sliced through a Lorakan helm and gained another view of Malik, he appeared to be talking with one of the riders that had sparked the battle. The rider than took off towards me, skewering an enemy horse-man en route.

I fell into a trance then; a rhythmic state that followed my heart beat. I looked thorough my eyes as if I was not me, and I was simply watching myself as another person. The next few moments passed in a sluggish out-of body melody, which ended as the Lorakan momentum ended and a sort of line was formed. The Chaos righted itself as the two armies broke apart and regrouped. Amazingly most of the mysterious lancers had survived, and the Lorakan forces had been nearly cut in half.

During the temporary peace I quickly located Malik, and took off towards him. He appeared to be conversing with the rider from before, and as I neared them I saw his eye flit my way.

Luciliana

There are some things that simply come naturally to a person. For Luci, it had always been fire. She could hold out her palms and it crackled there, constantly igniting itself and then burning out. Sometimes, when her temper flared for real, tiny sparks would flicker around her. So, when faced with large amounts of water in a small, confined space, she naturally felt discomfort. Still, she kept her smirk firmly in place, her head held high, and she put an extra swag into her step for added confidence.

They descended in single file, as the ledge was narrow and the water blow was deep. There did not seem to be anyway to pull oneself out, in the unfortunate scenario where one fell in. Luci felt herself clinging to the edge slightly, trying not to squeeze her eyes shut. She was in-between Doris and Dsar, and showing them any weakness did not suit her well.

They traveled downward at a slow angle, each of them deciding that the time for talk was left at the door. When the path became even narrower, they each put their backs to the wall and inched along slowly.

“Kade, tell me we’re coming on some less traitorous ground here quickly.” Luci said in a quiet voice, the ground felt wet and slick beneath her feet, and she was not clad for such an adventure.

“I can see it open up ahead here.” He told her calmly.

With her hands on either side of her, Luci pushed herself forward, not daring herself to look down. ’One foot in front of the other, that’s all it takes.’ Then her foot landed on something slick, and she felt herself lose her balance ever so slightly, and she let out a loud very repressed scream. The room echoed and the water below her rippled with the force of her shout.

When she dared to open her eyes again, three pairs were staring back at her looking quite amused.

Luci glared in defiance, though her face had gone white and tears stung the backs of her eyes. “Water just isn’t my thing.” She muttered.

She heard Kade snigger slightly, and she silently made a note to get him back for this.

The path soon became much more tolerable, and when she finally stood straight again and looked before her, she only found herself feeling more irritable. Laid out before them was a very wet looking tunnel, branching out in two directions.

“Oh wonderful,” Luci sneered. “Now what?” She asked, shooting Kade a look.

“Shh!” Doris said urgently. “I hear something.”

Dsar had already started walking ahead of them. “She’s this way.” She stated.

Kade patted Luci’s arm reassuringly. “Come on, friend. This is a good thing we're doing.”

Luci glared at him, but followed after, ignoring the urge to light his cloak on fire.

Cellardor

She heard voices, footsteps echoing in the distance, the harsh clatter of boots on wet stone. Far away and distant but approaching. The guards at either side of the door were on the floor drooling and muttering strange things, the dream-water, no doubt. She continued to sing softly, wishing for the smooth black wood of her harp, wishing for the cold comfort of her father’s far away castle. There was a scream loud and female, she jumped in surprise almost falling on the tiny wooden stool. Her voice breaking as she tried to regain her balance. They where close--so close, she had to real them in while she still could like a fisherman with his unfortunate fish prey.

She took a deep breath and began again, this time a little stronger, and waited for her rescuers to come.

They didn’t take long. But she couldn't help but feel a small tiny inch of happiness and gratitude. She shifted her head to the side, she could see a tall young human with dark hair and strange clothes. He looked slightly familiar but there was a slight aura of strange power. Humans, more of them followed, a female moved close to the male, with soft demure features. She watched the way she walked, her posture, soft down cast eyes, a human noble no doubt . Cellardor widened her eyes, eyebrows raised. Another human, mage this time, her fingers alight with a strong elemental fire, interesting... Quickly she noted the white streak in her hair, her noble posture, the majestic lavender robes storing it all in the vault of her mind. But it was not the humans that captured her attentions but rather the elf. The tall thin limbed elf that strode behind them, her eyes sharp body wiry and lean. Cellador’s eyes crawled over the high cheek bones and thin figure, features fate decided never to give her.

Cellardor lifted her self on the stool, pushing her long dark hair out of her black eyes watching as the group worked to undo the lock upon the door.