The Neutral Barrier

Note: Third person POV. Eh, I don't have any exciting ideas to contribute to the war yet (will work on it next, promise!) but here's another look into character development. Yay...

It was dawn when Llign finally opened his eyes. The first soft rays of sunlight penetrated the dewy foliage covering a good half of the cave mouth.

He was alive for another day.

With blurry eyes, Llign sat up, groaning at the soreness he felt in his body, having slept with no cushion or comfort on the bare rock beneath him. Stretching his back and twisting his limbs this way and that, Llign performed his daily ritual, ridding sleep from his body. Once he felt fully awake, he clutched his mother's necklace and made his daily prayer to the spirits his mother told him of.

[Flashback]

"Put your hands together like this, Llign," the hazel-eyed woman spoke softly to her son, her smile giving the boy assurance that he was following her instructions correctly as he knitted his fingers together, palm to palm, holding his clasped hands firmly to his bosom.

He could feel a soft beating coming from his chest; his heart. He looked up at the white gems glittering in the night sky, and his eyes filled with eager excitement. "What do I do next, mother?"

"Do you still remember what your father looked like?" she asked. Llign nodded, "Tell me."

"You said I have his eyes, S-ss-""

"Cyan. Yes, your eyes are the same cyan colour as your father's." The woman chuckled fondly, reaching a hand down to softly stroke her son's cheek, "What else do you remember?"

"Father had yellow hair!" Llign chirped happily.

"We call that 'blonde' hair."

"But I have your hair instead, mother." Llign unclasped his hands to reach up and stroke a lock of his mother's raven hair.

"Yes, you do, and dark-haired people are called 'brunettes'. You're a brunette like me, but you have your father's curls." Llign's mother playfully ruffled his hair. The child giggled joyfully with her affection.

"Father also had ca...callood...rough hands!"

"Calloused, dear, and your father worked hard to get those callouses in his hands. You should be proud, too, knowing that you have worked hard when your hands are calloused. Don't trust those with white, smooth hands to do a decent day's work." Llign's mother showed off her own weathered hands.

"Mother's hands feel nice, and I can also feel all your hard work, all that you do for us..." the child said thoughtfully as he caressed his mother's hands. His eyes shone when his mother placed a kiss on his head.

"Thank you, dear, now back to position, it's getting quite late."

Obediently, Llign clasped his hands again, lowering his head and his eyes, ready to make his prayer. His mother assumed her position as well, elbows sinking slightly into the raggedy mattress.

"Dear spirits," she began, Llign echoed her words, "please keep my husband-"

"My father," Llign modified himself, flashing his mother a sheepish grin, his mother returned with a loving one.

"Mota, please keep his spirit safe and whole, grant him peace so that we, in turn, may let our minds rest and leave those passed undisturbed in their eternal sleep. Please continue to watch over us and guide us in the time we still have before we must return into your embrace."

"With love, Aryela and Little Llign." The two said in unison. They shared a knowing smile between mother and son before the child quickly scrambled onto his bed, letting his mother pull the threadbare covers over his body and tuck him in for the night.

"Mother, who are the 'spirits'?"

Aryela stroked her son's hair lovingly as she spoke, "The spirits are everything that lives around you. They can be in the sky, in the birds, the animals, the flies, even in the wind. They're all around us and they are always watching over us."

Llign remained silent as his mother reached for the burning candle beside his bed, patiently waiting for her to continue.

"The spirits may also dwell in the ground; the earth beneath us, and in fire."

"Was that what father meant when he told me that fire is alive? That I have to respect it and its uses?"

'Yes, Llign, that's exactly it. If fire is misused, it could spread and consume everything; land, lives, even the sky will be stained with darkness."

Llign's eyes widened in terror and he had unknowingly pulled the covers higher up to his nose, "Why would a spirit become like that?"

Aryela patted her son with her free hand, "Not all spirits are definitely good or evil. Fire spirits happen to be neutral spirits. There's good, and there's bad. They don't take sides, it's how you treat them that affects the outcome of their uses."

"Can people be neutral, too?"

"Especially people. Sometimes you might see thieves as bad people, but what if they're only stealing to feed their families? A dog might bite you, but it could be because you provoked it or its young are near."

"It sounds like it's impossible to be all good or all bad." Llign said, puzzled.

Aryela chuckled, "You'll someday learn, Llign, how important it is to be neutral and stay that way. To not be swayed by prejudice, to not be involved in wars, to make a neutral decision and settle things with no disputes. Anything goes when you're neutral... and when you're neutral, survival is the only thing that matters. This is the barrier of neutrality, and it will protect you when the time comes."

With that said, Aryela blew out the candle and walked away, leaving her child's mind to ponder things.

[End flashback]

"I guess you couldn't be saved because you were truly a good person, mother... father, too." Llign squeezed his eyes shut, but he felt the tear escape; his throat constrict at the painful memories.

A war was coming, perhaps it has already started, and he'd best be going...

Withdrawal

As the title mention, I won't be able to post anything more for some time. Continue as always.

-Skeeter Lau

Scenes From A Memory

    “It begins.”

    The unexpected remark of the unknown stranger, being the first of his words that most who were remaining aboard the airship have ever heard – even perhaps the only words they will ever hear – turned all attention toward him. He remained in silence for a moment, reminiscing about a half-forgotten dream.

One small child ran about freely in a field of butterflies within the cool mists of the dawn, full of joyful laughter, without a care in the world; without warning, the sky turned a dark shade of scarlet, the child’s laughter turned to grim silence, as he stopped and stared at the aerial warships, the fantastic machines of battle, and the multitude of black-clad soldiers going forth from before him. From behind him, a cold womanly hand rested on his shoulder, and as he turned around he saw a tall woman, suited up for war, yet dressed more regal than any other, and while he could not make out her facial features, her mesmerizing smile has burned itself into his memories.

    Back to the critical present; the unnamed man, having ruminated enough about a distant past, made a sudden move towards where Eisenhower had just made his exit. In the next moment, he simply jumped off the airship, diving headfirst towards the forest. In midair, he pulled out two longswords, and a red glow emanated from the slit of his ivory helmet.

    “Those mother████ers are gonna steal all the fun! Well, better get into the action before it all ends prematurely.” Eldred started heading towards the opening when another explosion rocked the airship. “Shit, this thing is falling apart anyway; I’m off this mother████ing ship! See you later, b████es!” Following Eisenhower and the anonymous figure, Eldred dashed off into the freezing night winds, his fervour burning past the bitter chill of the darkness.

    Having caught up with the silent being mid-fall, Eldred asked, “Hey, any ideas who’re the ███holes we’re gonna be dealing with?” his query only met with silence. “Not talking, huh? Whatever; don’t come crying to me later when I’m through before you even get there.” With that, Eldred summoned a fiery barrier that burned through the atmosphere, allowing him to negate the air resistance slowing down the others who are continuing to fall to the earth below and zoom past them, surprising Eisenhower and the Treant creature. The other individual merely uttered one word to himself.

    “Fool.”

Birth of the Angel.

ETA of Assault : 21 minutes.
Time remaining (in Prison) : 319 days.
Total time passed : 593 days.

Day 692.
"Today, I learnt the art of the thieves. I've manage to convert myself into the shadow but master was able to detect me. I need to relax and cancel out not suppress my presence. It was hard but Master taught me how. It was not easy, but it was possible."

'What are you doing there Ash?' said Tullon. With his long beard and hair cut off, it took away a few hundred year along. His complexion is now much more soothing and easy to look at.

'My log, Master. I need to write this down.'

Tullon smiled but his smiled was replaced with an expression of surprise. It din't took long for Ash to notice but they know, something evil had already arrive to the palace.

'Master...What is this feeling. It feel disgusting. I feel sick...'
'This is darkness Ash. Feel it and endure it's sickening presence. But do not get used to it or you may fall for it's temptation.'

'But who or what it is Master?'
'They are human and for what I cannot e certain is a strange presence among them. It felt like human but there is something more... This is my first encounter with something non-human but fear not, luck may not be our ally but Time is on our side. Lets hurry and complete your final training. It would be your most challenging and most powerful technique in this world.' said Tullon as he turn around and walks towards the end of the Prison.

'But Master, I'm afraid that I cannot learn that Skill. It is impossible.'

Tullon held his footsteps, turns and approaches his disciple.

'Two years ago, no man in history had able to cast a single levitation spell in this room. But you did it in 2 months. 1 year ago, no man is able to successfully cancel out any spell cast. But you did, you manage to create a anti magic barrier. 6 months ago, no man is able to completely remove his presence from this world. But you did, yesterday.'

Ash lowers his head, he knew that the credit of his accomplishment was not to him alone yet he kept quiet.

'Young man, this technique might be dangerous, but it is essential, no, it is necessarily for you to save this palace.'

'Master, what is it that I'm about to learn?'

Tullon took a few steps back.

'It is easier for me to show.'

Tullon starts to chant in a language Ash never heard in his life.

'en tu illdan, tu mu pun bah ti, en wa illdan, wa sim ban ti. en ga illdan, ja kim ban von kan si ban.

A spell circle form underneath Tullon, one after another it forms a smaller one and continually, the white circle wraps Tullon in a sphere and in a split second, Tullon emerges out of the white sphere. His appearance changed. His arms and legs are tattooed with runes and marks. Half of his face is covered in words he never seen before. But all Ash can feel from his renewed Master was the essence of Mana itself.

'Astraea, in this form, no physical nor magical attack can make contact with you. You're able to cast any spell that you had learn just by thinking it. You can run, fly and move at almost the speed of wind and in this form, you are at your most dangerous.'

'Why is that?'

'Because this form drains your Mana. Like a broken dam, the contained Mana inside your body will gush out uncontrollably, and once every essence of Mana of a human is depleted.'

'I will die.' Ash interrupted

'For me. I can last at most 5 minutes, but for you, who had train inside an Silence field, can last more that 1 hour.'

'Master. What is the name of this Skill?'

'I have not think of a name. Why not you think for one Ash?'

'As a matter of fact, I have. I'll called it, the Angel.'

Onward, to battle!

   Once every logistic and planning part is settled, the entire team took off in the direction of the palace. Their mode of transportation is a registered airship with the permission to land within the palace grounds itself. A perfect cover for a highly trained assault team. 

   However, every plan has it's own glitches. Their airship is under attack! Before the plan could even be executed!

   "Who in their right mind attacks a Hort airship in these territories? Let's see....." Eisenhower scanned the surroundings for the source of the attack. He noticed something unusual in the forest below.

   "Aha! So it attacked us from the surface!" He took bits of shrapnel wood from the damaged airship and transmuted it into a Treant. The created wood elemental falls towards the source of attack from the sky, at high velocity. The Treant is the size and weight of a normal human being because of the quality and size of the material used. 

   "Perhaps it's better if I improved the airship's defense a bit. I don't want to die so soon." Eisenhower took out a vial of pure mana and a vial of glowing liquid. He smiled with glee at the thought of his second transmutation. "Now is the best time to test this new formula." He jumped off the airship without a second glance at the shocked crew and Kyras.

   "Man overboa...." Before the crew could activate the airship's safety mechanism, Eisenhower created a gigantic slime with his magic. This slime is different from the Treant in a few ways. One, the slime is way bigger. At least as big as a mountain. Two, the slime has no consciousness. The Treant can think for itself and can be persuaded to do something. The slime just obeys Eisenhower. 

   If Eisenhower did not jump off the airship, the slime will destroy it completely. Anyway, he is directly above his 'Giganto Slime'. There is no impact from the fall if he lands on top of the slime. The slime will block any more attacks towards the airship from the forest.

   Both Treant and 'Giganto Slime' are falling down on the forest at high velocity. Followed closely by their creator. Who took out an additional six mysterious vials and laughing maniacally at the thought of battlefield experimentation.

   "I don't like the sound of that laughter...." Kyras said with a grim expression on his face.          

Eil The Mechanic. Encounter with the Unknown.

Scenario 8

Eil The Mechanic. Encounter with the Unknown.

Down in the cockpit of the machine ball Gargary, Eil summons the wind to listen to the nature around her. The voices of the distant wind brought back news of mercenaries and assassins gathering at the edge of the forest, almost 10 kilometres away from the Freya Outpost, one of the 8 entrances into the Disappearing City of Reun where the Palace of Hort resides in. This surprised the girl slightly even now, though mercenaries and the sort often rampant around the edge of the forest; however, the news also resurfaced terrible memories of her scarred past just when she was taking a short break from actively patrolling around the outpost.

The Town of Hyoul was decimated by the devastating horde of phantoms waving the flag of the March of Hort. For what reasons the Heir of Hort, Loryd’s personal army was there and pillaging its own land no one knows; except that the aftermath of the phantoms’ trial left the beautiful and natural town of Hyoul in a magma of raging hell where screams of excruciating agony was heard.

The only sole survivor of the town was Eil the Mechanic, the sole heir to the Gargary which was left under the town square where the mechanic family lived. Sadly, the final torturous memory of that hopeless day was the last moments of Rem, the Head of the Town, pushing Eil into the seat of Gargary with the parting voice “Be strong my little girl. May the Heart of Gargary be with you”.

Days after the fire, Lady Rua recovered and rested a fatigue plagued Eil who was found in the Gargary which was barely visible under the rubble of a town square.

The silent screams of the hurting trees jerked Eil from the stressful break which is barely even sufficient when doing night patrol. She was brought to the attention of the silent movement among the trees two kilometers away from the outpost. The group’s movement was almost similar to the group she heard at the edge of the forest. With a blink of an eye, Gargary’s far sight was activated, easing Eil’s visibility in the night and also the increasing her sight to a 10km radius.

The sight of the eleven assassins closing in on the outpost brought her attention to the relay crystal above her head where commands flow in and out between the outposts and the Crystal Tower.

“Crystal Relay…Crystal Relay…. Outpost Freya reporting… Eleven blood thirst aura confirmed heading towards the direction of the outpost.” The constant invasion, from armies to lone assassins, trained the guards-on-duty in the outpost to be alert for people with massive killing aura.

“Outpost Freya, confirmation of targets received. Reinforcement sent, ETOA in 10 minutes. Current order, remain in disrupt formation while reinforcement arrives. Usage of nature and illusion magic is approved while Exoskeleton Ball Form is approved, Rendezvous with Reinforcement Captain Hugo when they arrive.”

“Roger that, Crystal Relay.”

The orders received by Eil were going to be slightly tougher after few weeks of mundane patrolling duty. What was not expected was the use of only the Exoskeleton Ball Form of Gargary since the Nature Ball Form of Gargary would be more fitting in diverting the group back towards the edge of the forest to reduce the collateral damage.The last thought of Eil before morphing the machine ball into humanoid form was a simple one. “May the Heart of Gargary be with us.”

Meanwhile, a shadow with a kunai at the ready appeared right below the castle walls where the 12th Elder of Illya(ILLYA), Youg resides. The shadow melded into the darkness at the edge of the draw-bridge. Silent screams covered by a thick cloth and a well placed knife wound assured Fu that the only obstacle obstructing his mission will be the ones inside, which is also the hardest part of the mission.

Astraea

Storm cloud gathers around a certain place. The wind that used to be as gentle as the summer's now turn rebellious as though, the wind wanted to blow something away.

A pair o silvery eyes opens immediately as Aven Tullon used most of his mana to peek into the future. With a little mana remain, Aven used it all to cast 'Miran' to peek once more, to know the identity of the 11 hooded man. But before his eyes could reach anywhere near them, it was dispel immediately but Aven manage to peek at one man. Cold sweat runs down his forehead as his silvery eye swirls around. Slowly, his eyes swirls from the activated magical silver eye to his own greens eyes.

'Darkness will consume the Light once more.' he muttered, his had a heavy noble accent buried deep in his tongue. Though his voice was soft. The emptiness of the room cause his voice to echoed around.

The prison is dark. Too dark for even darkness to crawl in. Too dark for even light was scared to peek in. Too dark for a human to live in. For what that seems, all of the prisoner have died, they ended their own live, all but a single old man.

The underground prison of Hortschlungren keeps every possible being that had made a mistake for having the guts commit a crime. From a simple thief to the most wanted man, all of them were thrown here, in this accursed place.

The structure is simple. The entire prison which is no more that the size of a regular 100x100 meter hall. But what seems to be the catch was the entire prison was cast with a spell. A spell of time and magic-null field and a most cruel way to suffer, a spell of immortality was cast in the prison, to suffer an eternity.

But even with this, it didn't stop Aven Tullon from using his magic. Using his ability learnt from the Keepers and the Magician Circle, he is practically invulnerable to both physical and magic assault and due to this his knowledge and power, he was put away.

'Mr. Tullon sir, your dinner.' said a young man dress in a regular foot soldier.

The elder man stands and walks toward the door.

The boy, with one hand holding a torch and another with a food tray, approach him casually, as if he was an old friend.

The young man sigh as he watches the old man eat his meal so calmly as he was not a prisoner, as if he was at home. He could stop but to stares are his grey-silver hair, it grew so long for it could be mistakenly stepped on.

He place the torch at a holder behind him and sits with the old man on the dirt floor. Leaning against a wall, he plays with his own long blonde hair.

'How long has it been?' said the young man.

Tullon swallowed his food and reply immediately.
'Exactly 365 years.'

'Which makes it one year since I've meet you.'

'Well, it seems time pass faster than I can possibly imagine.'

The young man chuckle at his joke but then, both of them keep silence until Aven finishes his last drop of wine.

'Boy, how does it feel, when those thieves destroyed your home?'

The young man felt strange and answered him without hesitation.

'Of course I'm angry. Why-'
'Do you seek revenge?'

The young man drops his head. Remembering flashbacks images of the night when a group of thieves ransacks his entire village.

'Part of me died when my village was burnt right in front of me. But then, I was just a young boy. I had no sword, no wand..

'What if you had acquired power back then, what action will you decide?'

'Power? Even if I had the world strongest sword or the most powerful wand, I'd..I'

'Kill them?'

The man gazed for a moment. His mind went blank.

'Would you? Young man, take the lives of those ill-heart man?' said Aven loudly.

'For the sake of Justice?' he added.

'Justice in what sense Mr. Tullon?' said the man as he too raise his voice.

'Is it Justice when a poor women was punished for stealing food to feed her child?'

Aven was stunned by his word.

'Is is Justice when a man was beheaded for killing a noble who have been cheating all the villages money?'

'I've seen to many so called Justice that is conducted by the corrupted bureaucrats. Even my best friend was killed bu the greed of those who held a higher power.'

'After hearing all the preaches by priests, business mans and the king himself who talks of righteous and virtue, why aren't these people punished?'

'Even the all seeing god Est looked away and ignore this. For all this years of worshiping, I finally come to realize that god does not exist. Human does, and they have the power.'

The young man finally stops, his continues to pants as Aven approaches him.

'Boy, do you have a name?'

'Name is an Indulgence by the rich and power which I do not have the luxury to own them.'

'Well then, do you know who am I?'

'Aven Tullon...' said the young man with his voice shakes.

'Well it seems that I will need to properly introduce myself after all these years.'

'Listen now my young friend. My name is Aven Tullon, Elder to both of the Magician Circle and the League of Keepers. Power of both sides in which I held in my hands are the forbidden art. For that is why, I haven been in this prison.'

'I can educate you to become smarter, I can train you to become much stronger but with that kind of power, I'll ask you again. Do you seek revenge.'

He thinks for a split moment and gave a decisive answer.

'No. I do not believe revenge will bring peace.'

Aven looks changes immediately. He was disappointed

'But I will stop them, if I could, not in the name of vengeance. But in the name of Justice.

Aven heart swayed with his answer.

'Young man. With that thought. I shall train you to become the world most powerful being.'

Both of them get on their feet and Aven chant a spell. Visible marking of rune glows all around the prison cell and vanishes as they were erase.

'I've cast a spell that increases the strength of the previous spell. Time will be longer and spell with be much more tougher to cast, with that I shall train you.'

'But why do you want to train me sir? I am but a nameless commoner.'

'Young man, you are grown in such as way of injustice, poverty, adversity and viciously by this nation. But you struggle hard, knowing that you will not rise to be a successful man, knowing that noble or thieve will crush you down.'

Aven walks towards the only source of light in the cell and picks up the torch.

'Human though that fire was a friend until the day it burnt down their own ego.'

He then puts out the fire and throw the torch away.

'But they do not know what there is in the darkness. They spent too much time in the light not knowing that the shadow they cast. The suffer they cost.'

'Young man, I too was a victim of those people and likewise, I do not seek vengeance for I only seek for knowledge. So tell me young man when the time come and the cycle resume and you fall again, why get up? Why not quit? It is an illusion, vagaries of perception. Momentary constructs of the feeble human mind trying desperately to justify an existence that is without meaning or purpose. In the end, why do you persist? '

The young man answer him.

'Because I choose to.'
'And that is why, from this day forth, you shall be call Astraea, the embodiment of Justice itself.

Llign is My Name

Note: The following post will be done in first person point of view. The character's name here, Llign, is read as ˈlaɪn. (Homonym: A-llign-ment)

Perfect. Just perfect.

My boots are crusted with mud, I'm soaked to the bone, my joints ache something fierce and I'm dragging my toes through muck and grime of a questionable nature and I am not too keen on stopping just to check on whatever is wriggling around my shins. With any luck, it'll go away once it gets a good chafing.

The night is unbearably cold. Where did this sudden shower come from anyway? One moment I had a glorious and relaxing time sunbathing down by the river, and then the next moment storm clouds gathered like vengeful shadows and it was as if someone upturned a giant bucket on me. If I don't find shelter soon, I won't last through the night, and something tells me it's only just beginning.

Three times I was nearly caught in an ambush this week alone. Three times! It's like the Devil was on my tail. I've been traveling long and far, being a wanderer for as long as I can remember, just skirting the borders of those dense, monolithic habitats known as civilization, never staying longer than necessary, never taking more than necessary. I always avoid fights or scuffles, running deep into the woods whenever Trouble rears its ugly mug at me.

That was how I survived when raiders attacked my people's camp. They came swiftly and unexpectedly. But before I fled, my mother held me to her breast in a final embrace for me, took off her necklace and put it around my shoulders, "Always remember us, and this will keep you safe." I stared dazedly at her as she kissed my brow. I knew I would never see her again.

"Go, Llign, and don't turn back. Never turn back." With tears in my eyes, I obeyed my mother, turned on my heels and darted into the wilderness, hearing echoes from the dead, their fear sending chills up my spine, ushering me to run faster, to never look back.

I kept running until I couldn't run anymore. My legs literally gave out beneath me and I fell face first into the earth. I had blacked out. I might have slept the whole day away, perhaps longer, but when I regained consciousness, I knew what I had to do.

Survive.

Since then, I have learned to always travel light, never to have any lingering attachments to a place or object, and to disappear at the first sign of danger.

A cowardly way to live, that's understandable, but I do what I must to survive. Shame does me no good if it doesn't help fill my empty stomach. I watched as the people traveled by. Learned as they cooked, hunted, cleaned, sewed, and fought. Watched as they talked, sang, danced, laughed, quarreled, discussed, and disappeared into tents and slept...or did other things. Most of them tried to be silent about it, but some just never bothered.

I've lived my years by the bow, taking care of myself and my meals with a few well-aimed shots. It is the one and only object I have allowed myself to feel an attachment for. An affinity, some might call it. If my bow breaks, I steal another one. I am no craftsman, but at least I've learned to craft my own arrows.

However, it seems I have more than thieves, bandits and wild animals to be wary of. Barely a year after my village was savaged, I learned about the strife between some clans like the Magic Circle, Assassins, and women with either severe cases of warts and burns or latent abilities to make predictions of the future. It seems they are fighting over something I presume is big and shiny, completely pointless, and maybe life-altering.

I notice a small mountain with a decent cavern area not more than five yards before me. At a glance, I can tell it was not a completed network, just a simple cave, and that there were no animals inhabiting it. My shelter for the night. It's meager, but I will manage, I always have.

I clutch my mother's keepsake necklace to me, rubbing my hands around it as I puffed as much warm air as I could between my hands, trying my best to warm them, and whispered a silent prayer of thanks to my mother.

Whatever it is, I'd best keep to myself and avoid these conflicts. Life is hard but simple for me and I have few things to do for the sake of my mother and my people.

Survive, and remember...

A Garden at Midnight

A cold wind disturbed the slow fire burning in the brazier, causing the faint orange flames to vanish for a moment, before returning once more as the breeze passed, the flames low but steady over the white-hot logs.

Coming upon the shallow firebowl that had been set into the hard granite floor, Seraeyl paused for a moment to pick up one of the carefully folded white blankets that had been placed in a neat little pile upon one of the flat stone benches surrounding the fire, then continued down the broad, shallow steps to where an elderly woman stood alone beside a rounded pillar, looking out into the moonlit garden beyond.

She turned at Seraeyl's approach, and gave a curt nod in greeting. Seraeyl smiled in reply, unfolding the blanket and draping it gently about her teach's shoulders. "Here, Mistress Rua," she whispered, "It's a little cold tonight."

"Thank you, dear," said the woman, but with little warmth. She took hold of the the blanket herself, and then fixed the young woman with a stern gaze. "Dinner time ended over an hour ago."

"I came out of my room for a walk," Seraeyl explained, truthfully. The old woman grunted in reply and returned to her view of the garden.

It was one of the many enchanting little gardens hidden away within the vast, walled compound of the Palace of Hort. This particular one was a glade of miniature trees -- the tallest one in the center didn't even come up to her shoulders, while most of them were only about waist height. There had been a brief drizzle earlier in the evening, and the slight, sparsely leafed shrubs were adorned with countless tiny little raindrops that sparkled as if they could catch the starlight. Small white flowers grew upon their slender branches, filling the air with a delicate fragrance.

A narrow path of white cobblestones wound through the glade, standing out clearly against the damp earth in which the tiny trees grew. Around the edges of the garden, which saw less sunlight during the day, there were shallow pools of clear, cold water, in which swam several small golden fish with translucent, wispy fins that flowed gracefully in the water, like cloth billowing in the wind.

This was one of Seraeyl's favourite gardens. Over the tops of the diminutive trees, there was a clear, unobstructed view of the midnight sky. There was a slim crescent moon out tonight, conceding modestly to the dazzling silver-blue cloud of stars that streamed through the sapphire night overhead. To compensate for the lack of moonlight, soft lamps had been lit all along the length of the open-sided corridor they stood in, which ran around the entire perimeter of the enclosed garden.

"I feel unwell," Rua declared at last, still gazing determinedly into the garden. "I remember this feeling -- I felt the same way just before those soldiers arrived, do you remember?"

"It was some time ago," Seraeyl replied, after a moment's thought. "Do you expect something to happen tonight?"

The old woman grunted indistinctly again, but her expression was grim, and her face was creased with lines of worry.

"Why don't you find a seat, mistress?" Seraeyl indicated one of the many smooth stone benches that lined the garden path, as well as the corridor they stood in.

"I'm alright, girl. This old woman's neck has grown too stiff now -- I can't both sit down and look up at the stars at the same time. Huh! Anyway, at my age, sitting down and getting back up are both monumental tasks, which should be undertaken with great consideration, and only at the utmost necessity."

The young woman quickly stifled the brief laughter that escaped her, and covered her mouth in demure guilt; the old woman allowed herself a quick, dry laugh at her own satirical wit, but her dark mood returned right away.

After a while, Seraeyl spoke into the tense silence again. "What did they want, those soldiers who attacked the palace, before?"

"What do all invaders want? Territory, wealth, violence, glory..." Rua made no attempt to hide the acid in her voice. "Some of them had even heard that they could find a path to immortality here! Hah!"

Taken aback, Seraeyl asked, "Really? How do you know?"

"A few were taken prisoner after the battle," Rua answered simply.

"Oh."

"Immortality, pfah! Of course they would want that something awful! They found quite the opposite here, though ... eventually, anyway."

"Oh," said Seraeyl again, for lack of a better response to make.

Rua was quiet for a moment, but then spoke up again. "It's not that simple, living past your appointed time. Of course when they first hear about it, they think all it'll take is to march in here and demand a piece, just lay claim to it, and it'll be theirs forever -- immortality, that is. They never expect that it will be hard work or any kind of difficult; they never worry about the costs that follow along -- they just think that everything would be so much easier, so clear and so simple, if they only had our power -- just decide how things should be and that will be that. Peasants and fools, the lot of them!"

Faced with an unexpected bout of Mistress Rua's rare but withering outbursts, Seraeyl kept her head down, silent and meek, lest the elderly teacher's legendary wrath be turned in her direction next. She held her breath, hoping to safely weather the storm, but all of a sudden, Rua seemed to run out of fire. The old woman sighed, and her shoulders sagged a little, so that she seemed a little deflated, almost subdued.

"Immortality, pfah. Who needs to live forever?" she muttered, wondering aloud.

"Do you think it's possible?" Seraeyl dared to inquire.

"What, to live forever? Certainly, I know of a few people who have managed -- are managing -- to live much longer than usual. I suppose that's about the same thing. It's not that complicated, really -- I've heard of some who mastered it without ever even learning any magic, in a manner of speaking."

"Who?"

Rua gave a dismissive wave of her hand. "Not I, obviously. I decided it wasn't for me, living forever. It's their choice if they want to do it, and in any case they can always stop -- if they can bear to, after all that time. As for me, I tend to think that life is long enough as is -- and imagine if everyone started living forever, how much trouble that would be!"

Seraeyl regarded the woman before her for a moment, the two of them standing in the shadows at the edge of the lamplight. With tanned brown skin, and clad in heavy robes dyed a deep and severe blue, Mistress Rua was nearly invisible in the near-darkness but for her silver hair, which she wore in a tightly gathered bun behind her head. There was a lot more white than Seraeyl remembered, and hardly any trace of silver left.

But she was still every bit as strong as the woman Seraeyl remembered from all those years ago -- Mistress Rua still stood tall and confident, her grey eyes hard with perfect certainty, and her chin raised in proud defiance to the myriad vagaries of fate. She caught sight of Seraeyl's wistful gaze, and harrumphed.

"No point thinking about it anymore, girl -- it's far too late for me now: my body is tired, and riddled with agues -- and you'd sooner raise the dead than smooth out these wrinkles of mine. What's there to prolong? If anything, I'm looking forward to getting it all over with."

"Don't say that." Seraeyl laid her hand against Rua's arm.

Rua harrumphed again, turning to go. "It's late -- late in my years, and late in the day. It's no decent hour for any lady to be out and about. Come along, girl."

"Coming, mistress." Seraeyl followed obediently after her teacher, who slipped off the blanket and draped it over her folded arms for a moment longer, then laid it down on a stone bench along the way, for a servant in the palace to retrieve.

As they passed through a pool of dim lamplight, Seraeyl saw the old woman frown and turn her head, glaring darkly into the shadows at seemingly nothing in particular, before storming on down the halls of the palace once more.

Another Rogue

    "Knowledge, mother████er!" exclaimed another assassin, "Pay attention to what's being said!"
    "I'd rather you be a little less vulgar, Eldred," rebuffed Kyras.

    "I'm blunt, but I'm not mistaken, and that's all that ████ing matters to me," replied the rude rogue. Knowing the heavily robed figure, Kyras kept his tongue. After all, getting into an argument that one can never win is not among Kyras' agendas.
    Eldred was a Hyperion, a former elder-turned warrior monk. Citing boredom as his reason, he left the comforts of the council and led a group of five like-minded individuals, jointly known as the Kabelaced, into the heart of every major battle, earning them the cognomen Five Fingers of Death. His decision to leave the council early had barely saved him from sharing the fate of his fellow elders, who had been eliminated following an explosion at one of their meetings. Soon thereafter, a new council was elected; due to their inexperience, they had ordered more wars than were necessary, all "for the Great Nation of Blut-Rømer". This did not tire them, and they continued achieving victory with every battle, until they declared war upon Hortschlungren, also known as Hort. They had known nothing about this empire, and their own endless victories have made fools of them. Thus, as they set out blindly against this unknown empire, their enemies merely laughed in their faces and utterly reduced them to nothing. Eldred is what is left of his army, as well as the Kabelaced. Having lost all that he knew to be his allies, he shunned the nation that is now foreign to him and lived a solitary life as a contemptible mercenary.
    A figure stood silently among the eleven. He is clothed in an ashen-grey garb which completely concealed every inch of his body, save his head, upon which he wears a white helmet, void of all details other than a thin vertical slit on the left side, running down where his left eye should be. Nothing is known of this man, not even to Kyras.
    The unknown stranger had approached Kyras right after he had sought Eldred, and Kyras refused on account of not knowing who that man was. However, the stranger persisted, choosing not to budge from the mountain path that would lead Kyras and Eldred out of the mountains where the latter had hidden himself away. It was not until a moment later that he was revealed to be stopping Kyras and Eldred from walking into an ambush; when the ambushing group became impatient, they stepped out of their hiding place and surrounded the trio, at which point the unknown person displayed his abilities: out from under his robes, he threw knives after waves of knives, each reaching their target - the necks of their intruders - and with such extreme speed that ordinary eyes would not have known what happened. The entire ambushing group was killed, all 29 of them. Kyras and Eldred both saw and understood the event that transcribed before them, and Kyras promptly welcomed the stranger. Eldred asked why he was so intent on coming along, to which the stranger replied that he, like them, harboured a certain grudge against Hort. When he was inquired of his name, he merely remarked that they are not worthy of even uttering it, and remained silent for the remainder of his time with them.
    The silence of that stranger was extremely disturbing, even to Kyras.