Usurpation

[xaen]

Kenras’ eyes swiftly scanned the Master Assassin’s latest message and then watched as the Shadowknight rise bid them farewell after agreeing with the Master’s assessment, adding a request for additional information via pigeon messenger.
Silently pleased by the fact that he would have to make absolutely no changes in his soldiers’ current locations and purpose in the combat, the Shadowpriest followed Kheldar’s example by rising and tilting his head in salutations before quickly teleporting away to rest for the evening back in his secluded temple in the mountains.

Isabelle read the Master’s reply slowly and thoroughly, her expression going slightly sour at the fact that her minions would be the support for the more abundant Shadowknight; but hardly disagreeing with the logic since her branch was the smallest in size, the Shadowmages on Erumara barely numbering more than a hundred.
The Shadowmage politely returned the respectful farewell offered by Kheldar as he left the meeting, and shooting a hateful glare at Kenras as he teleported away.
Teleporting seemed to have become a habit of Kenras’ lately, and his constant display of magic made Isabelle silently wonder if he had improved in skill since his tutelage as her apprentice.
‘She would find out soon enough anyhow’ Isabelle mused as she rose a minute after the Shadowpriest had left, and moved for the door preferring to walk back to the secret lair of the Shadowmages inside Fort Revenald.
“See you tomorrow Master,” She said to the Assassin over her shoulder as the door of the storehouse closed behind her.


Cyrteris grinned like the smitten fool that he was when Clover broke their bond of hands to pick a few sweet smelling purple flowers, the break of contact making his heart momentarily flutter in mild panic and stupidly feared she would not return.
Those childish fears where put to rest an instant later when she retook his hand in her own, sniffing the delicate bouquet in her previously free hand and asking him where they were from.
After momentarily studying the purple flowers Cyrteris softly answered, “It’s a Pi’paen lilac from the Starpeak Mountains there; the gardeners purchased some seeds from a passing Pi’paen flowerer.”
They stood there hand in hand for what seemed an hour, both staring into each other’s eyes.
After a while, Cyrteris wondered if maybe he should kiss her with his confused feelings showing themselves plainly on his face as her brother rounded the corner from behind the rose bushes.
Cam’s sharp cough causing Cyrteris and Clover to both break contact, each of them slightly embarrassed by being caught by her brother.
“It’s alright Cam, you two will need to be ready for whatever mission Tedronnis has planned,” Cyrteris partially mumbled still feeling a bit awkward from Cam’s sudden arrival, watching the twins exit the courtyard the Duke sighed sadly to himself before leaving for his own bedchamber.
Mentally taking note to ask Tedronnis what went on in the meeting before he left with Clover, before retiring into a peaceful and cheerful sleep.

Vlan’Tur rose stiffly from his hard mattress the following morning, completely unaware of the councils’ meeting the night before.
Not bothering with his shirt today the mighty Vorshtaran warrior pulled on his tan coloured trousers, strapped on his crossbow bandolier with the crossbow attached and took up his trusted palm-wood staff before exiting the cheaply decorated diplomat’s quarters.
After spending the last few nights resisting the urge to walk the streets of Fort Revenald, Vlan’Tur finally managed to find his confidence and decided to walk among the Erumaran’s before war was upon them in a few days time.
Walking through the Ducal Palace corridors made the Vorshtaran diplomat doubt his choice since all of the servants either glared or avoided him entirely whenever they could.
Vlan’Tur got as far as the outer courtyard before he was heralded by a grumpy looking old man and the pair of twins from the dinner the night before.
Seeing them the Vorshtaran fearfully bit his lower lip in anxiety that they would attempt to harm him for his dire proclamation.

“Greetings Vlan’Tur, I am Ivan Blazewind,” The old ranger introduced himself as he led the Rue twins over to the imposing figure that was the Vorshtaran diplomat.
“And this is Clover and Cam Rue,” Ivan continued as he indicated each in turn before staring quietly and impassively at the taller man, with dark bags under his eyes from his sleepless night.

“It’s an honor Ivan, and I’ve briefly meet you two before,” Vlan’Tur nervously greeted as he began to unintentionally sway slowly from side to side, and then almost rudely adding, “So what do you want from me?”

[Culmir]

The Master nodded briefly in return to Kheldars traditional goodbye to his fellow shadowcloak members, clearly the young man was unaware that leaders had the choice to express the traditional salutation and him having chosen to use it meant the others had to follow suit.
It didn’t surprise the master of assassins that the shadowpriest soon followed the shadowknights example and excused himself in the most flamboyant manner he could, by simply teleporting out of the room after nodding his goodbyes to him and Lady Isabelle.
His cloaked features turned to the shadowmage now, studying her face carefully as she seemed to mull over some thoughts in her pretty head.
Folding his hands together The Master leaned his elbows on the table top, from within the folds of his cloak still staring at the shadowmage in his forced silence, how he longed to have his speech returned, he had only once allowed a doctor a peek at the ravaged ruin inside his mouth, when the man explained to him there was no hope of salvaging or restoring his tongue in any form he killed the man, he had seen his face after all.
The Master smiled, though it remained unseen as Lady Isabelle got up and bid him farewell before she too ventured out of the storehouse.
The Master stripped his gloves of his hand gently, flexing his dampened fingers from the sweat that accumulated inside the leather gloves, he would have to explain to his servant that he ought to know by now to lay out his cotton ones when meeting with his fellow shadowcloaks.
Gathering all the folders once more he handed them carefully to his servant who had sprung up beside him silently, the master of assassins petted the boy on his head fondly.
Tomorrow he would send out the last details to all those who needed it, now he too had to rest and gather his strengths for the fray tomorrow.
He locked the storehouse firmly behind him, after having made sure no evidence was left of their meeting there, he had even left a small note for Venorik, pinned to the desk by a dagger with the shadowcloaks crest, Venorik would recognise it easily enough and read his next instructions.
The Master slept easily that night, knowing all his carefully laid out plans would soon unfold into their full glory and he could hardly wait.

Cam and Clover discussed their assigned task until well into the night before they both settled on an approach they both felt would be appreciated and understood most by the tall plainsman who they were set out to talk to in the morning.
Well before the first rays of light Cam roused himself out of his slumber, he didn’t want to risk oversleeping once more and he would surely become soft if he indulged himself in the luxury of sleeping in, and in a soft bed to booth.
Still in his undergarments he crossed his room, into the corridor and barrelled into Clovers rooms “Wake up!” he shouted at the pile of dishevelled sheets that lay on the bed.
Clover grumbled and swore at him for forcing her to get up so ridiculously early as she peeked her head out from under the sheets, her hair a tangled mess “You do it, you know what I planned anyway” she grumbled as she pulled the sheets over her head once more.
Cam shrugged “Fine” he chuckled, grasping a corner of the sheets he proceeded back to his own room, dragging the bed sheets off his twin in the process.
Cam snorted as he returned to his room, gathering his clothes as he heard the shrieks of dismay from Clovers room across the hallway, she was the one who suggested he’d do that in the first place so she wouldn’t really come and flay his skin off as she was now screaming through the walls.
After a few minutes Clover calmed down enough, jumping into her regular clothes and strapping her kodachi onto her back at the final moment before leaving the room, she had pondered leaving it behind but she felt naked without the blade resting between her shoulders.
Cam was already waiting for her outside the hallway, leaning against the wall with her bundled up sheets in his hands, glaring Clover yanked the bedding out of his hands and threw them into her room, she knew it would be cleaned by the maids and she would obviously apologise to them for the state of her room but right now she didn’t have the time.
They were due to meet up with Ivan in a few moments and Clover wanted to make a short stop in the kitchens first.

Together with her brother the twins made their way down to the large and busy kitchen which was bustling with activity as Poledra was once again wielding her large skimmer spoon like a sceptre.
She smiled upon seeing the twins once again “Bit early for breakfast I’m afraid” she smiled, her tawny eyes glittering as she smiled fondly at her cooking and spluttering pans all over the kitchen as her helpers were busy assembling all sorts of things for the Dukes breakfast as well as a suitable breakfast for the rest of the staff and inhabitants of the ducal palace.
Clover smiled and embraced the mother matron like chef “We’re here because of breakfast actually” Clover said to the woman whose eyebrows arched at her words.
“Well me and Cam” Clover started, glancing over her shoulder at her brother who was almost dipping a finger into a sticky substance contained in a bowl “Uhm..” Clover paused, forgetting what she was going to say as her brother flushed in embarrassment at being caught trying to taste something in Poledras kitchen without approval.
Poledra nodded curtly “What about breakfast child?” she asked as she moved past Clover, grabbing a large loaf of bread, cutting off two pieces, slathering a royal amount of the amber honey onto them before passing one of them to Cam and one to Clover.
Cams face lit up at being presented with a bit of a morning snack, he bit into it before remembering his manners and fullmouthedly mumbling “Fanks folee-rah”
Clover held onto hers carefully “Well, you see, me and Cam have to talk to the Vorshtaran envoy again, and we were wondering if you could make something of a traditional Vorshtaran breakfast for us so to make him feel more comfortable?” she asked.
Poledra smiled “of course, no problem, we were already roasting some pork for tonights dinner I can easily cut off some pieces, get them smoked and then prepare the sweet and hot sauce that goes with it, when do you think you’ll be here?” she replied.
Cam happily filled in now that he had finished his piece of bread and eyeing Clovers untouched bit with care “Shouldn’t be overly long, say an hour” his eyes never moving from the honey drenched bread.
Clover noted her brothers attention on her snack and promptly bit into it mmmm’ing loudly to annoy her brother all the more.

A few minutes later they were waiting with Ivan on the courtyard, his informants having told him that Vlan’Tur would be heading their way soon and they decided to wait for him.
Cam and Clover stood silently as Vlan’Tur approached them, smiling politely when introduced to the plainsman once more.
Upon being inquired what the three wanted from them Clover jumped in “We want to invite you in for a breakfast and possibly discuss the going ons, in a friendly manner” she smiled as she motioned to the ducal palace, indicating to come with them please.

[xaen]

Vlan’Tur shakily managed a friendly grin that was somewhat lopsided when he answered politely, “I would be honored to join you for breakfast”
The large Vorshtaran swooped himself into a deep respectful bow that ended at Clover’s eye level, his staff still firmly in his grasp whooshing through the air as he bent.
Straightening once again, he watched as the older gentleman who had named himself “Ivan” quietly moved back towards the Palace and swept the great double entre doors wide.

Ivan led his three charges calmly and tiredly through the winding halls, until they ended up in the dinning chamber attached to Poledra’s kitchen.
The wonderful old lady herself was imperiously setting the table with small dishes of sweet and hot smelling sauces along with plates of smoked meats, wheat cakes, and a few other Vorhstaran style dishes.
“Polly, my dear this is such a wonderful spread,” Ivan fondly cooed as he pulled the younger elderly woman into his still muscular arms, and they shared a short warm embrace.
Poledra chuckled softly to herself and told him sweetly in a gentle whisper to knock it off since there were children about, in other words Vlan’Tur, Cam and Clover had caught up with him.
“I was worried that I had lost you,” Ivan joked when the three all filed silently into the chamber, the old ranger had moved at a blazingly fast pace through the halls and hadn’t bothered to wait for the trio.
With a quirky smile, Ivan placed a quick and light kiss onto Poledra’s cheek before seating himself at the head of the table.
Poledra’s teasingly waved her scepter like ladle in a sword like fashion after the old ranger, who grinned and wondered why she always seemed to have that ladle close at hand even when it wasn’t needed.

Vlan’Tur being the last to enter the room momentarily froze in the door frame when the intoxicating smell of his distant homeland assaulted his nostrils, smiling happily for the first time since his arrival in the marvel that was Fort Revenald.
His might stomach growled angrily at him for standing at the door and not sitting at the table gorging himself, knowing better than to ignore his mighty gut the Vorhstaran Diplomat quickly took a seat in between the Rue twins.
Vlan’Tur said little aside from proper manners for the first ten or so minutes, since he was hell bent on overdosing on the delectable sweet and spicy sauces that he smeared thickly onto his wheat cakes and smoked meats.
Slowing himself down, he sized up the Rue twins and Ivan as he chewed vigorously on a piece of wheat cake.
“So what are your positions inside the Duke’s circle of rule?” Vlan’Tur inquired edgily fingering another slice of wheat cake as he made eye contact with each one of them in turn.

“Was once a famous adventurer before I….settled down and became the Reven Raven Commander,” Ivan somberly informed the massive desert man as he broke eye contact to stare sadly at his breakfast, and proceeding to eat his fill in uninterrupted peaceful sorrow.


Marvic paced across the head of the long table inside his compound, as four pairs of eyes watched him like blood thirsty hawks from their seats along the length of the table.
The nobleman stopped his anxious pacing to regard his four guests, that stared angrily at him showing clearly their irritation with him and his missing fifth guest.
A map of the city with small painted blocks was spread across the center of the table showing the locations of the baulk of Revenald’s troops, a statistic provided the missing guests personal spies.
A dangerously silent minute crawled by, Marvic fearing that someone might do something foolish he was about to suggest they start without their missing member; but as fate would have it that very member promptly burst through the thick oak door and glided across the chamber to his seat without a word.
After a short sigh of relief, Marvic sat down at the head of the table and confidently sized up his fellows.
Councilman Rasvin Tresm, the owner of The Crossland Company, sat on Marvic’s right certainly looking the worst for wear; his hawkish nose was bent and covered with spots of dried blood, his one eye was black and swollen, and his already less then handsome face was marred by several dark purple bruises.
Sitting next to the brutalized Rasvin was a heavily muscular man named Cassilen, owner of the Cassilen Culpurt Company, he wore a suit of shining plate armour with blue dragon emblazoned across the chest plate; he was a few years Marvic’s senior with long black hair and a ferociously thick goatee, his mighty warhammer casually laying across the table in front of him as he leaned in close to inspect the map.
Across from Cassilen sat a bony and pale looking woman in tight battle leathers nearly as thin as her.
Melissa Thekwis was her name, owner of The Three Talon Mercenary Company, her long midnight black hair was tied back by a blood red ribbon and a drow needle sword was sheathed at her waist; despite her small and weak looking stature, she was a fierce fighter.
The man that sat on Marvic’s right was Kylek Jymer, owner of The Northwind Company, a foreigner from Cayld with thick curly brown hair and a flashy suit of chainmail decorated with an array of wild colours; a similarly decorated shield leaned against the side of his chair with a simple war axe laying across the table in front of him.
The fifth and final guest that sat at the opposite end from Marvic, was Kenras wore smiled arrogantly dressed in his usual black tunic and breeches, along with his black and red hooded cloaked.
Over the next hour, the five discussed minor details concerning how the attack would begin and where they should be when the time came for them to assault the heavily defended Ducal Palace; Marvic ended the meeting with a powerful rallying call, “Gentlemen, for too long that pompous and self-righteous fop has impeded our respectable businesses. Preventing us from using practices that the damned Royal Family deem “illegal”, I say enough! We, gentleman are here today to follow through with our plans of taking the power that should be ours. Today, we become kings!!”
With that Kylek, Melissa, Cassilen, and Rasvin erupted into a strong cheer before jumping up from their seats and running from the room to gather their forces.
Kenras was the last to leave still wearing his smile, and he hadn’t said a word throughout the entire meeting which was odd for the chatty half-elf; Marvic hardly cared though and thought nothing of the man’s evil grin, so he gathered his forces and prepared to gather his troops for the attack at noon.

Once Kenras was out of the Felvon Compound, he burst into wild hysterical laughter as he walked along the winding streets to the Shadowcloak warehouse were the majority of his Shadowpriests awaited his return and his orders; reaching the derelict building he sang in his musical voice, “Today’s going to be fun!”
He hardly realized that there was treachery afoot, out in the Ildera Forest inside the camp of his Vorshtaran ally.


The Shaman Xaxistics was casually stretched out across his soft hay-stuffed pillows inside his tent, when his second in command barged into his tent.
“The men are ready to march, Great One!” The Vorshtaran reported with a blood thirsty grin plastered across his face, and like the rest of his countrymen in the war camp his eyes were bloodshot and glazed over.
“Tell them to stand down,” Xaxistics calmly ordered as he drank heartily from a glass of wheat beer, he didn’t even need to look up to know that the man was now staring at completely dumbfounded by the command.
“But Sir the men hunger for blood! And that Kenras fellow promised us the city if we attack today! Why are we backing down?!?” The under-commander inquired of his superior angrily, upset that he wouldn’t be slaying Erumarans today.
Xaxistics hopped up from his seat, throwing his away his beer and drawing his bronze longsword and driving it through the man’s heart; much to the horror of the guards at the tent flap.
Smiling wickedly at the dead Vorshtaran Commander on the end of his sword, Xaxistics coolly told the guards, “Congratulations gentlemen, your now both my new under-commanders”

[Culmir]

Cam and Clover were all too willing to follow Ivan and Vlan’Tur back into the ducal palace, having gotten used to the surroundings quite easily since their arrival in the grand estates, it seemed hard to believe that it had only been a week and some spare days since they had been accepted into the Reven Ravens, and already now in charge of a mayor political assignment.
The twins lingered behind the plainsman a bit, allowing him to follow their esteemed mentor Ivan through the hallways that would lead to the dining hall that Poledra had chosen for their informal breakfast, the elder chef had figured the tall inhabitant of the Vorshtar plains would feel more at ease in a home styled area rather than the imposing grand dining hall the duke generally held his important meetings in.
The motherlike chef had taken it upon herself to decorate the place as cosily as possible, draping large brown and beige pieces of fabric down the walls to replicate the tents they reportedly lived in.
When they came closer to the dining room the smell of cooked meats seemed to drift out to meet them, it made their mouths water hungrily as a loud gnarled snarl erupted from Cam’s stomach, he had been hungry all morning, and the little honey snack Poledra had given him earlier had done little to none to ease that hunger.
The four of them made it into the room quietly and saw Poledra still busy attending to the table, setting an assortment of dishes onto the bare wooden table.
Clover smiled as her grey eyes roamed over the collection of food stalled out on the table, it was amazing how much that woman could do in just an hour, it was almost like magic the way the food just seemed to roll out of that kitchen of hers.
Cams stomach growled loudly once more as he hurried past his sister and Vlan’Tur, seating himself quickly at the table in front of a large plate piled high with a sort of roasted pork with a hot tangy sauce oozing down the tender meat, the drool almost dripped out of Cams mouth as he stared longingly at all the food in front of him.
Clover rolled her eyes and seated herself a chair away from Cam, knowing that once her brother would be tearing into the meat the sauce would be flying all over the place, and she didn’t want to get spattered with his messy eating.
When all of them were seated Cam was the first to start pulling a wheat cake from a large basket and dipping it ferociously in a pot of hot sauce, the juice trickling down his chin in small rivulets as he ate with a delighted expression on his face from the explosion of flavours occurring inside his mouth.
Clover watched Vlan’Tur eat first before she would begin, knowing she had made a fool of herself the first time they met by stuffing herself up to a point where she was rivalling Cam in quantity of food being eaten, and Cam ate a lot.
Some pleasantries were exchanged during the breakfast allowing everyone to eat their fill, Clover having filled her stomach was happily leaning back in her seat, nibbling on a sweet wheat roll dipped in a bitter lemony cactus sauce.
She was a little surprised when Vlan’Tur spoke, she hadn’t thought the man was done with his breakfast yet as her brother seemed to be wholly preoccupied in scooping up some more onto his plate.
Cam glanced up quickly, wondering if Vlan’Tur was addressing him or just everyone in general, he was relieved when it turned out to be the latter one and he was allowed to clear his mouth before speaking, even having the dignity to wipe his mouth on the provided napkins.
“Uhm..” Cam started, not sure what to say after Ivans revelation, it made him realise how little they knew about their newly acquired friend and leader “We’re new recruits of the Reven Ravens” he added after a minute of clumsy silence.
Clover felt the awkward silence settle into the room and cleared her throat to strike up some form of conversation “So Vlan’Tur” she started, nibbling at the roll again “What brought you to Fort Revenald in the first place? Apart from a diplomatic visit that is” she smiled encouragingly.

The Master woke with a startled gasp, clutching his chest as a lancing pain darted down his left arm as his fingers cramped into a claw digging into his skin, this wasn’t the first attack he had endured this week, the task of being master of assassins was taking a heavy toll on his aging body.
He remembered with a pang of pain that this was to be the day they would be taking over the city, finally, though little happened around Fort Revenald without the assassins knowledge it would be so much an improvement once management was being taken over by someone more esteemed and up to the job unlike that little pup Cyrteris Mraen who obviously had no clue what was going on within his own city.
Getting up from his bed The Master donned his black clothes carefully, arranging them all neatly to shroud his figure, his servant ever ready in preparing his breakfast as he reached the lower floors of the chosen house for this night, never did The Master sleep in the same place out of superstition, his position was a coveted one, though every single leader of the 4 branches of the Shadowcloaks would say the same about theirs, but whomever led the society of assassins got some perks, the knowledge of the stealthy assassins that moved unseen through the whole realm.
He possessed information many men would gladly kill him for, smiling wryly to himself The Master gobbled down his breakfast, chasing it with a large gulp of mead before setting out to the rendez vous with his fellow Shadowcloaks to prepare for their collected assault.

Kheldar had spent most of his evening drilling his elite soldiers into shape in the last minute, they were all ready and willing to die for their sovereign master, they had been trained well in all forms of combat and Kheldar was anxiously awaiting the moment he would be able to barrel into battle himself, as was expected from a good Shadowknight leader.
He had chosen to eat late, so as not to have to indulge in breakfast in the morning and not feel the weakness of his limbs from that choice, he had experienced a wave of nausea before and he suspected it was nerves rather than fear, after all this was his first great battle with his newly acquired status as the Master of the Shadowknights, and he was unsure of whether his nerves would get the better of him.
He consented to eating small slabs of blood sausage, a dish favoured by men in Cayld and it had grown on him over the years.
He was already at the assembly point, his troops under way to their assigned locations until the Shadowmage would give them the sign in the air, the crest of the Shadowcloaks, that would tell them the assault was to be launched and the disguises his heavy armoured men wore to be cast off and throwing themselves into battle.
There was little else to do but wait now for the others.

[Dracafrey]

Venorik jumped down off from the rafters high above the floor where the secret meeting had just taken place.
As he made his way over to where the master had stuck a note to the table with a small dagger.
Venorik grasped the daggers hilt and removed it from the desk and picked up the note and read it, nodding to himself as he understood the instructions the master had left for him.
As he slammed the dagger back into the desk paperless a sign for the master that he had retrieved his ordered as vanished from the building to set out on his next task.

[xaen]

Vlan’Tur nodded his understanding as Cam coolly informed him that he and his sister had recently been accepted into the mysterious Reven Ravens, a force of elite soldiers Vlan’Tur had heard; these two though hardly seemed to fit into that category, since they were both still quite thin from their time living on the streets and they didn’t seem to have the cold killer nature most elite soldiers had.
Not one to judge warriors by their appearance, Vlan’Tur silently pondered what kind of combat skills they possessed.
Then Clover broke his line of thought with her rather nervous sounding question as to why he had come to Fort Revenald aside from his diplomatic duties.
The Vorshtaran gently pushed his empty plate closer to the center of the table as he took a sip from his glass that was filled with desert wheat mead, a light alcoholic beverage from his distant homeland,
Swallowing quietly Vlan’Tur politely explained, “Ever since I had first heard of this city, I have wished to see its splendour.”
He paused to take long gulp of mead before finishing, “I never had the chance before now since it is against the Vorshtaran way to enter Erumaran land, and before recent days few of my people have ever gone this far past the mountains.”

Ivan was nodding solemnly to himself as he drank heartily from his own glass of mead, since he had once spent a year living amongst the Vorshtaran people when he was a younger man.
The old ranger could tell from Vlan’Tur’s voice that the giant Vorshtaran was just as concerned as Ivan was with this sudden violent change in the once peaceful Vorshtaran way of life.
Ivan knew the reasons behind why the Vorshtaran’s rarely if ever crossed into Erumaran land, it was because of an ancient pact between the two nations from eons ago when the desert was still grassland.
Not seeing any relevance between that pact and the events of recent days, Ivan discarded the stray history lesson and continued to sip away at his mead.

Vlan’Tur sighed suddenly in a slightly despairing fashion as he looked each of his hosts respectfully in the eye, when he felt the need to explain why he had even decided to join his now warlike people in this strange war.
“The only reason I came here at first was to avenge my father, who was slain for no reason by a caravan of Erumaran traders that were traversing the desert,” Vlan’Tur told them sadly as he picked up a new wheat cake and proceeded to stuff the thing into his mouth.
Feeling awkward because of his statement, the Vorshtaran turned away from his Erumaran hosts to peer out the window closest to him at the hustle and bustle of the beautiful city; since it was now nearing midday already, “Where had the time gone?” He idly wondered.

Ivan just about choked on his last gulp of mead when Vlan’Tur told them about the demise of his father at the hands of Erumarans.
The old ranger sputtered and coughed heavily through mead lodged in his throat, and the wheezing loudly through his sore throat, “An Erumaran Caravan killed him without provocation! Dear boy! Did they have any specific crests emblazoned on their wagons?”
Vlan’Tur slowly drew a small folded piece of canvas, the kind that would cover a wagon if it was passing through a desert or through bad weather.
Ivan’s eye nearly popped right out of their sockets when he saw the emblem, it was a green cross on a blue diamond shaped background.
“This is the Crossland Merchant Company symbol! Rasvin’s company,” Ivan grumbled angrily rising from his seat in a rush seeming ready to charge from the room, but he was beaten to the punch when a terrified looking peacekeeper captain charged into the room.


The time had finally come.
Early Marvic’s mercenaries had gradually filtered out of his compound and moved into positions along Peacekeeper Patrol routes, while his allies had moved their forces to key locations throughout the city.
When the sun had reached its zenith, Marvic’s forces leaped into action quickly and effectively overpowering the surprised peacekeeper patrols; while Kylek’s and Cassilen’s forces bottlenecked the Lady Saria Moonflower’s mercenary forces inside her compound in the wealthy district, and while Rasvin’s and the Lady Melissa’s forces cut-off the peacekeeper forces from the north wall garrison, the closest to the Ducal Palce.
Marvic and his soldiers had nearly taken half of the middle district before they were discovered because of a mounted peacekeeper that had managed to escape from the mercenary force.
Knowing that the element of surprise was now gone, Marvic urged his forces to move double time through the district in order to reach the Ducal Palace before its garrison could be marched against them.
But his progress was slowed by the now alert and prepared peacekeepers that gathered together with blades drawn to halt the progress of the rebels, at that moment runners from his allies approached him on the sidelines of the main frays to give their reports.

“Sir!, The Lords Kylek and Cassilen have successfully trapped the Moonflower forces inside there own compound! And Lord Kylek demands reassignment, Sir!” The first of the two runners reported and then fell silent to allow his fellow to deliver his own report.

“Lord Marvic, The Lord Rasvin and Lady Melissa are facing an organized resistance, but believe that they will be able to overpower the northern wall garrison! Sir!” The second runner told his superior in dutifully tones as he awaited instructions, standing alongside his fellow.

“You! Tell Lord Kylek to march his forces into the Slums and cause some havoc with those peacekeeper forces!” Marvic commanded of the first runner, who promptly saluted and sprinted down the side streets and alleys to return to his masters.
The nobleman then turned to the second, barking sharply, “They need to remove that garrison quickly and move double time to the Ducal Palace! Leave no survivors!”
The second runner bowed before running off in a similar fashion as the first runner, Marvic watched him go before drawing his sword and charging back into the fray; dressed in his finest suit of plate armour with his tower shield firmly anchored to his left arm.
“For Asendil!” The charging Lord Marvic screamed and this battle cry was echoed by his soldiers, the name of their promised kingdom strengthening their resolve against the now heavily resistant peacekeeper force that was slowly being forced ever closer towards the Ducal Palace.
Marvic used his shield and the momentum from his run to bull his way through the defensive line of the peacekeepers, knocking several men over and disarming a few others that had attempted to strike the shield.
The poor men were swiftly consumed by the tidal wave of mercenaries that followed in the wake of there powerful leader, shouting battle cries and cutting down those stunned or disarmed by Marvic’s charge mercilessly.
With his momentum played out, Marvic came to a quick stop and thrust his jewelled longsword through the neck of his first peacekeeper assailant.
Hot blood splashed onto Marvic’s face as he rolled under a high slash that would have surly taken his helmeted head clean from his shoulders; coming up from his roll, Marvic swung his blade in a skyward arc that severed the sword arm of the unlucky peacekeeper that was standing the path of the nobleman’s roll.
The peacekeeper screamed in horror and turned about to face his mystery assailant, the action allowing his original opponent to slam his serrated axe firmly into the one-armed peacekeeper’s neck with a sick thudding noise.
Turning quickly away from the gruesome scene to face another peacekeeper, Marvic pulled his shield close and stood defensively behind; shouting “For Asendil!” as he did so, it was quickly echoed by his soldiers before Marvic’s latest foe’s sword bounced harmlessly of the sturdy tower shield.
Marvic snapped his blade out for a quick counter, but his strike was foiled by the faster peacekeeper’s longsword; his blade knocked wide by his opponent, Marvic was forced to hastily pull his sword arm back to his body and block a barrage of skilled blows with his shield.
Again Marvic attempted a riposte and yet again his strike failed to pierce the peacekeeper’s lightening fast defense, for several minutes the pair squared off both equally defeating each others attempts to slay one another.
Until an axe was buried into the peacekeeper’s back by one of Marvic’s mercenaries, Marvic saluted his thanks to the older soldier and the man returned with a salute of his own before running further up the street where the main fray had shifted.
In the clear once again, the treacherous Mraen scanned his surroundings and the carnage wrought by his veteran mercenaries.
After quickly counting the dead, he numbered his losses at about two dozen and the peacekeepers at about five dozen in this fight alone; though if he added the victims of their initial strike to that count the number of dead peacekeepers almost doubled.
It was a good start for his little rebellion, since his combined forces only number roughly a third of Fort Revenald’s complete garrison and he had yet to see the forces that Kenras promised.
Now was not the time though to contemplate why Kenras’ forces had not yet joined alongside Marvic’s, since the Mraen twin could see a heavily armed force of peacekeepers charging towards his soldiers and no doubt being lead by Cyrteris himself.
With another cry for his new kingdom, Marvic charged once again into the fray; gathering stray mercenaries to his side as he sprinted down the street.

Kenras was growing quite anxious as he began to unintentionally pace in front of his priesthood, worried by the fact that his Vorshtaran allies had not yet attacked the city.
Through the cover of their attack he was going to not only help his fellow Shadowcloaks, but slay both of the Mraen twins in order to pull Marvic’s allies in the folds of the Shadowcloaks.

“Kenras, you damned dolt! Send the signal for the attack already!” Isabelle’s voice screamed into his skull through the use of a minor communication spell, she was no doubt about ready to blast him dust out of sheer blind rage; Oh how he loved that woman’s temper!

“It’s coming dear! Just be patience sweet heart, Daddy will let you kill some goody-goodies in a minute or two,” Kenras mentally cooed back at the furious Shadowmage, who answered his snide comment with a mental tirade of foul words and gruesome bodily threats.
The whole while she was screaming at him, the Shadowpriest was laughing heartily aloud as he snapped his fingers; thereby ordering an initiate to fire a flaming crossbow bolt high into the air.
Within seconds the streets were flooded with crimson cloaked knights, scarlet robed wizards, and crimson cloaked priests that burst from their concealment to join forces with the now badly losing rebels.
From his vantage point onto a warehouse roof, Kenras watched amusedly as the Shadowcloak forces swarmed the now overwhelmed peacekeepers; he was supremely impressed though and slightly worried by how well the peacekeepers were holding out against the combined might of the Shadowcloaks and Rebels, but that fear and respect was fleeting since the peacekeepers were being steadily pushed back.
Smiling Kenras turned and walked to the other edge of the roof and looked cheerily down into the cold faces of forty Shadowpriests, and hollered, “Begin your chant! My loyal servants!”
“The Ducal Palace shall be claimed by the Shadowpriest this day!” Kenras cried triumphantly as the chant turned into an evil drone, since the spell would take a dozen minutes to finish Kenras mentally sent orders to his commanders out in the front lines as he waited for his priests to finish their pray to the unholy god Kassislek.

General Tedronnis was updating Duke Cyrteris on the events of the council meeting the night before when several peacekeeper captains came charging into the chamber with a patrol officer trailing closely behind them.
“What is the meaning of this intrusion!?!” Tedronnis snapped sharply at the seven captains and patrol officer, the whole group was incredibly flustered and agitated.

“General Tedronnis, Sir! We’re under attack!” One of the captain answered quickly with a hasty salute and then indicating the patrol officer to speak.
The man clear his throat and quickly explained in great detail that a force of rebellious mercenaries were running amuck in the middle district.
The captain that spoke first silenced the man with a casual wave of his hand, “That’s enough, thank you patrolman!”
Then a second captain spoke up, “We’ve also received word that the Moonflower mercenaries are bottlenecked inside their compound and the northern wall garrison is hard pressed by another mercenary force!”

“Go gather the rest of the peacekeepers! And send word to Ivan that I want him and his recruits to run through the streets to gather the remaining patrols and any stray peacekeepers!” General Tedronnis roared as he and the six of the seven captains sprinted from the audience chamber together, seemingly having forgotten the Duke in this time of crisis.


The peacekeeper captain quickly rambled off all sorts of information to Ivan about how they were under attack by a rebel force, and how one of the rebel forces has been identified as Rasvin’s mercenaries.
“That damn lowlife! I’ll kill him myself!” The old ranger growled furiously and when the captain made a motion to remind the old man of his orders, Ivan barked, “I know my orders! Now be gone!”
He stormed over to Poledra and planted a firm, but loving kiss on her old cheek before heading to the door.
Ivan stopped with the door halfway open to sneer, “Come younglings! Its time for you to try on your new uniforms!”
The old ranger lead the twins to a same armoury a few corridors away, filled with suits of shining chain mail with leather joints and Reven Raven tabards with matching black cloaks.
“Here we are kiddies! Suit up!” He grumped as he squirmed his way into one of the suits with gold trim on the collar and cloak, showing his rank and authority.
Ready Ivan moved towards the door and noticed that Vlan’Tur stood there with his crossbow in one hand and his staff in the other.
“What are you about?” Ivan growled wearily reaching for his katana as he stared down the taller Vorshtaran.

“Nothing, I only wish to fight these disloyal fools,” Vlan’Tur growled back squaring off with the old veteran as the Rue twins dressed for combat, “As a Vorshtaran it is my life’s duty to punish those who bring dishonour to their people, it’s the Vorshtaran way.”
Vlan’Tur added as he continued to match gazes with the older ranger, both now wearily squeezing their respective weapons tightly in preparation for a fight.
“The old Vorshtaran way,” Vlan’Tur whispered just loud enough for Ivan to hear, with that one comment Ivan’s gaze softened and he nodded his acceptance of the man’s assistance.


Duke Cyrteris sighed away his irritation at being so casually forgotten before turning to the young page that was tasked with fulfilling his every need.
“Come young page! I have a battle to join!” He told the young boy with a courageous gleam in his eyes as he and the boy traveled through a short corridor to a small room where Cyrteris’ Ducal armaments awaited use.
With the young page’s assistance, Cyrteris quickly pulled on his shining suit of chain and plate armour and retrieved his family blade, the Starfang.
As he pulled on his smooth closed faced helm, the page attached his black Revenald emblazoned cloak to his high collared neck guards.
Ready for battle he bid his trusted young servant farewell, and charged through the Ducal Palace into the front courtyards; where armed and armoured peacekeepers scrambled about at the every beck and call of General Tedronnis.
The General wore a shimmering suit of chain mail with a black Revenald tabard and cloak about his shoulders, his great two-handed axe resting menacingly head down in the dirt before him.
“Luthien! Are they ready to march!?!” The Duke demanded as he approached the General as the man pulled on his own helm, a horned and ferocious looking thing.

“Aye! Their ready your lordship,” Luthien Tedronnis answered before turning and giving the order for the seven hundred or so peacekeepers to march with Cyrteris and himself at the head of the force.
Moving at a dead run the massive force of peacekeepers flooded into the barren streets of Fort Revenald, the word of combat having long ago terrified people to the point of hiding inside their homes.
Four of the seven captains from earlier broke off of the main force with about a hundred strong each to assist the Moonflower forces and the northern wall garrison.
A fifth captain broke off with fifty peacekeepers to gather the Eastern, Western and Southern wall garrisons; leaving only three hundred and fifty or so soldiers with Cyrteris and Tedronnis.
With ten minutes, the Ducal force was upon the rebels in the middle district; where roughly another two hundred or so peacekeepers battled fiercely with a force of four hundred rebels.
Starfang pointed out before him, Cyrteris charged leading his army into battle cheering loudly over the clang of battle “For Erumara!”; a cry that was echoed by his army and the now invigorated peacekeepers that we the first on the scene.
With a thunderous crash the new peacekeeper force poured into the fray, Cyrteris and Tedronnis fought side by side slaying over a dozen each; the mercenaries already giving a lot of ground to peacekeepers.
A mighty cheer arose from the nearly triumphant peacekeepers as the rebels quickly began to retreat, until a shockingly large force of red cloaked knights charged from the alleys and side streets taking the peacekeepers by complete surprise.
This force not only had a large force of foot soldiers, but mages began to bombard the peacekeepers from within the crimson sea of the newcomers and clerics healed the wounds of their fellows or fired deadly black beams of foul god magic at the peacekeepers.
These red cloak strangers brought a rousing cry from the rebels and a man with a giant shield to shout “For Asendil!”, before they charged back into the massive tumult of clanging steel.
Feeling the fear spread through his men like a cancer, Cyrteris screamed his own rallying cry above the carnage, “For Erumara! For The Crown!”
Courageously the peacekeepers roared this battle cry, drowning out the feebler claim of their foes and forcing every red cloak and rebel to work twice as hard for every inch of ground.
The battle raged for what seemed like a day before the fifth captain returned with the other three garrisons bolstering the peacekeeper force by two thousand and four hundred addition troops, but the red cloaks still far out numbered Cyrteris’ force.

Isabelle shrieked manically as she blasted, froze, electrocuted and disintegrated peacekeepers with here magic as she marched alongside the Shadowknights and her brethren; her brethren of course numbering only two hundred and fifty out of the five thousand Shadowknights, and thousand Shadowpriests that marched along side her.
She was tasked with assisting that vulture boy Rasvin with the Northern garrison, and she would gladly do so after annihilating more of these pathetic peacekeepers.

[Culmir]

Clover and Cam both leaned back into their seats, listening attentively when Vlan’Tur began to talk about why he had come to Fort Revenald, Clover still nibbled slowly on the roll that she had been tending all through their breakfast lunch, she had torn it in half, and allowed it to soak in a sweet sort of honey sauce that was extracted by squeezing it from the grains of a particular brand of wheat.
The flavour was enormously sweet but didn’t have the hazardous properties like sugar, which would attack the glaze on your teeth and have you running to the local doctor in no time.
Clover smiled and nodded politely at the right moments but for the most part remained silent, her brother looked utterly fascinated when Vlan’Tur mentioned mountains.
Cam was rather startled when Vlan’Tur continued and noted how he was careful to make eyecontact with each of them before revealing another reason behind his arrival at Fort Revenald.
“What?” Clover exclaimed as Ivan spluttered on his drink at the same time, fortunately drowning out the volume on which she exclaimed her indignation.
Cam sat back in his chair, dumbstruck, he wouldn’t of thought that his people, in the country where he lived, where the kings laws were upheld by everyone, and everyone lived in peace under them, apart from the threat coming from across the oceans, but never had any messages been passed from town to town about a killing of innocents and surely the men who had committed the act would be boasting about it everywhere.
Cam and Clovers heads both whipped to Ivan when he regained use of his voice after having it drowned by his mead by accident.
Their heads whipped back to Vlan’Tur who produced a worse for wear bit of canvassing used to cover up goods for merchant travelling, they stared at the symbol intently, during their travel from Carvahal to Fort Revenald the twins had come across many a travelling merchants who hoped to sell their wares at fairer rates than the town they usually sold at, but the crest emblazoned across the canvas was not one they had seen before, but clearly Ivan had and this revelation fell hard on him as his face reddened in anger.
They watched in silent approval as the elder ranger got up from the chair, undoubtedly to order a men at arms to find the leader and possible culprit of this random act of violence against another Erumaran citizen.
Ivan was almost bowled over by a hurrying peacekeeper who stormed through the doors moments before Ivan would of stormed out the other way, they looked expectantly at the man as he caught his breath to talk.

Kheldar had slipped slowly into the state of mind where his combat would be utilised at perfection like he had been taught by his master back with the drow when he was still accepted at that time, he had honed his skills like one fine tunes an instrument, except he was an instrument of killing.
The order had been given by signal fire, they were to aid and assist the brute forces of Marvic Mraen finally, Kheldar had watched from the edges of the battle how it had progressed and all the while he had wondered when he would be allowed to join.
His hands itched towards his sword buckled to his hip, he wanted nothing more than to join into the battle, feel the blood pumping through his veins and his sense heightened by the surges of drow power coming back to life in the light as well as being aided by his light elf senses and sight.
When the time finally came Kheldar was more than ready, his men had already become antsy with the grunts and clashes from battle being uttered so close to them, all of them were light on their feet, though they were all heavily armoured in the Shadowknights traditional armours none of them seemed to notice the weight on their shoulders, each of their faces calm and composed and waiting for the releasing order.
“Men!” Kheldar shouted when he saw the blazing arrow dart through the sky daringly “We fight!” he grinned lavishly as he unsheathed his long sword with a hiss from its sheath, raising it over his head he uttered a war cry and charged down the streets, his men following him hyped up by bloodlust.

The first peacekeepers fell easily by Kheldars slashing sword, taken by surprise by the sudden appearance of the Shadowknight forces that joined in the battle with the rebels, at first there was a small spot of confusion, the peacekeepers defending party didn’t know where the Shadowknights’s allegiance lay so the peacekeepers were unsure whether they were friend or foe and made the mistake of assuming they were friendly forces rallied by the shadowcloaks to aid in keeping the city, little did the peacekeepers know that this was all an agreed plan and soon Fort Revenald would be overthrown and ready to be converted entirely to the worship of the great deity Kassilek.
The small amount of peacekeepers that held back the Shadowknights were soon disposed of, blood gleaming on the silver chest guards of his men, Kheldar looked back at them fondly and with a large sense of pride for his men, so far no casualties and some minor injuries by careless shadowknights who would be punished for it later, if they survived at all.
Silk could hear the blood rushing through his veins as his sword cleaved through a peacekeeper locked in a struggle with some of Marvics men, it seemed pointless to keep a battle like that going and Kheldar never approved his men wasting time on a powerstruggle like that.
In the distance he could hear the deep voice of Marvic Mraen trying to rally his men into courage by screaming out the name of the kingdom he had promised them, he wondered if the man knew at all that Fort Revenald would never be his.
Running full sprint towards the sound of battle the shadowknights found themselves surrounded by Rebel warriors fighting off a large group of Peacekeepers who proved remarkably fearless though they were outnumbered by far but still showed no sign of wanted to retreat to the safety of the palace walls but the combined forces of the shadowcloaks and the rebels managed to push them back inch by inch.

The Master was up on the roof, watching down onto the battle curiously, he recognised Kheldar by his helmet and watched in mild amusement how the half drow fought bravely beside his men, if he continued to push the peacekeepers back towards the wealthy district they would soon fall into the ambush set up by his assassins who would dispose of this large group of peacekeepers by an ingenious gas compound crafted by The Master himself who had dabbled in chemistry until he found the right mixture of powders for it to be both explosive as well as poisonous to the airways.
Kheldar had gotten precise instructions on where to push the peacekeepers and allow them to flee back to the place that was rigged with explosive poison bombs.
The Master was confident the peacekeepers would retreat to the spot that he had set up his assassins in, it was an easily defended spot by a small group that was about to be overwhelmed, a small bowl size square, with 2 exits, both two narrow streets, of which the other at the other end had already been closed off by the Masters men expertly, to prevent the poisonous gas to spread to the other streets that had to be kept safe for the other warriors that would pass through it.

Kheldar scanned the houses anxiously, he didn’t like relying on the Master, though the aged master of assassins seemed the least likely to double cross him in a battle as important as this Kheldar bared in mind that it was customary within their society to simply get rid of the people you didn’t like or didn’t approve of and for all he know the Master might not like him and proposed this small ploy of his to both help win the war for Fort Revenald and get rid of his disliked master of shadowknights.
Kheldar saw the small flutter of black cloth up on the roof behind the peacekeepers he was slowly pushing back into the wealthy quarters of town, he knew now that the bowl of poisonous gas was just beyond the border of the house he was now halfway passing, and he could see the hastily spoken words in the peacekeepers groups he read their lips ‘the wishing well is behind us, it’s a narrow street that leads to a small round square, we could defend it easily’ they spoke, Kheldar suppressed a grin of triumph as he saw the apparent leader of this peacekeeper group nod almost imperceptibly to the spoken words, he was falling right into their trap.
It didn’t take long for the peacekeepers to put their money where their mouth was as they turned around collectively and darted down the small street leading to the soon to be poison filled square.
Some rebels tried to dash past Kheldar but he held them back with his arm, staring them down with his burning red eyes “They’re already dead” he spoke dispassionately to the rebel who stared at him wide eyed.
With a nod Kheldar acknowledged The Master who stood on the wind whipped rooftop, staring down at him from his darkened hood.
Kheldar turned and led his men down an adjacent street and pursued the remaining Peacekeepers vigilantly.
The Master stared down at the frightened pack of peacekeepers, they huddled close together, their shields interlocked to form a shielded barrier around themselves, those who carried pikes were at the edges to keep away the attack that would never come.
The Master waved with his gloved hand, a decisive movement as a group of 5 black clad assassins dropped from their hiding spots, triggering their trap as a set of 3 bombs at all 5 locations were set off simultaneously, a large BANG shook the surrounding buildings to their foundations and a foul smelling green gas oozed from the circular shaped square.
the faint sound of coughing could be heard from within the poisonous cloud and soon its noise was replaced by gurgling screams of agony as the flesh of the peacekeepers would begin to boil and melt off their bones and leave them roasting slowly in their armour.
It truly was a horrible way to die and The Master hated having to resort to poisons but he could hardly send out his assassins in with those harebrained warriors who didn’t understand the subtle arts of killing at all, who simply though that hacking and slashing was the way to do it.
He turned silently and continued on his trek to the ducal palace, he had several more traps similar to this one set up all around strategic points in the city and he would have to be present at the edges of battle at all times to see which ones he would need to utilise or which to neutralise.
With a head movement he dispatched a squad of 4 men to dismantle the trap set up a couple blocks back, they hadn’t been given the opportunity to use it, and to leave it would be hazardous for when their own shadowcloaks would traverse the city and possibly trigger them by accident.
The Master sighed softly to himself, he would store these traps carefully at different locations and hidden from his cohorts, they were all his design and who knew what they’d all do to get their hands on his ingenuity.
He moved slowly on to follow the battle from the rooftops.

Cam and Clover rose from their chairs swiftly upon being told that the town was under attack by Rasvins mercenaries, Clover growled as she remembered the foul man, her eyes blazed in cold grey steel as she balled her hands into fists.
Her brother equally enraged by the news, how dare that lowlife attack this city, this place he and his sister would like to call home someday, the first place of security they had found since they started to wander the streets, no he would not let that be taken away from him so soon or so easily.
Neither of the twins were much surprised when Ivan rushed over to the elderly chef Poledra who had rushed in behind the peacekeeper bringing the news, there was a firm set to her mouth and her tawny eyes blazed angrily as she held her spoon tightly in her fists.
Poledra smirked slightly after the kiss being planted on her cheek “You be sure to keep safe now!” she shouted after them as they all rushed out the dining room.
Cam nodded curtly to the matron lady as he and Clover exited the room behind Ivan who told them to follow to get their new uniform.
Cam and Clover were both brisk in their motions they knew something like this would happen at some point, this is what they wanted when they heard about the Reven Ravens, this is what they longed for to do, to fight, to have a purpose and to win for someone and something they both cared deeply about.
They slipped into their armour clumsily, Clover had a lighter version of the heavy armour as her lithe frame was not built to hold up a lot of weight but the interlocking chainmail she wore would suit her just fine and keep any swords or arrows out of her flesh just as well as the solid chest guard Cam strapped around himself.
Clover reached automatically for her Kodachi, when her eyes lighted upon a set of kodachi in the armoury, she retrieved them easily and strapped them in an X across her back, keeping her own slid safely into her knee high boots.
Cams attention fell upon a katana beside the one Ivan grasped, it was unadorned but Cams trained eye could see that the metal of the blade was fine and excellently maintained, he would use it until it broke before he would resort to his own, strapped to his back.
They turned and saw Vlan’Tur waiting with his crossbow, they stood in silence as Ivan and Vlan’Tur exchanged words.
It was decided almost silently that Vlan’Tur would be allowed to join the battle and soon Cam and Clover found themselves rushing through the ducal palace to reach the courtyard and through there the square where the battle had already commenced by those who had been suited up for battle already upon having received the news sooner than they had.
Cam took to the left and Clover followed suit, she and her brother had developed a style of combat where she would be watching his back and he would be watching hers, allowing them both to concentrate on their foes without having to worry about someone trying to sneak in behind them and stab them to death.
Sweat was pouring down Clovers face as she threw herself into battle easily, her twin blades flashing casually as they were lighter than the heavily equipped long swords most of the rebels seemed to use.
She cut through necks and dismembered men who wailed on the floor in agony, she stepped over countless bodies that had fallen to others all while her brother maintained her pace behind her, keeping her back protected as his katana clashed with many a sword and mace that tried to smash his smaller sister, thinking she’d be an easy target.
The battle wore on slowly and the fact the enemy was being aided by priests who healed most wounds didn’t make it easier on the twins, Clover had been battling a man a while now and just as she had gashed his sword arm she watched in horror how the seams of flesh pulled together neatly and healed up on their own.
She groaned and continued her struggle as her brother behind her faced a large burly man with a battle hammer that swung precariously close to his face each time.

[xaen]

Ivan, his recruits and Vlan’Tur charged out of the Ducal Palace Gates at a dead sprint, out into the warzone that once was the city streets.
The group travelled in the opposite direction of Cyrteris’ mighty force to fulfill their mission of gathering the thousand or so struggling peacekeepers scattered throughout the city.
They didn’t have to go far before running full tilt into a group of haggard looking peacekeepers that were being heavily pressed by a band of rebels; even at a full run the old ranger could still notch an arrow, and fire that same arrow right into the throat of a rebel that managed to get the upperhand on a peacekeeper.
Cam and Clover were the first of the four to join the battle, Ivan marveled at their skill together and how every action complemented the other; it was a beautiful dance of death.
Vlan’Tur was second to enter the fray, hot on the heels of the Rue twins; first the giant man fired a bolt from his heavy crossbow at point blank into the chest of the closest rebel, before swinging the sturdy wooden bow like a sythe the pointed tip digging hungrily into another rebel’s neck.
Ivan watched in mild shock as Vlan’Tur left the weapon stuck in the rebel’s throat as he ducked under a wild swing for his head, and then rising from his crouch with an arcing swing of his staff aimed at the man’s chin.
That’s as much as he saw before the old ranger was forced to sling his bow back over his arm, and draw his trusted katana just before slamming into the back of a rebel that was facing off with a peacekeeper.
Ivan bounced off the heavily armoured rebel falling onto his old backside with a grunt and a curse; the rebel wasn’t so lucky, since he stumbled right onto the peacekeeper’s blade.
The younger man pushed the dead rebel off his longsword and offered a hand to the downed ranger, who grudingly accepted it as he rose to his feet.
To Ivan’s frustration this small battle was over before he even managed to reach his feet, and look into the eyes of the young peacekeeper that helped him up.

“You’re Reven Raven’s!” The young man stammered at Ivan, Cam, and Clover, before looking incredulously at the powerful Vlan’Tur, who savagely tore his crossbow from the neck of his poor victim.
Panicked by the appearance of the Vorshtaran the band of eight peacekeepers scrambled to aim their weapons at the giant warrior, but they were halted immediately by Ivan’s upraised hand.

Without a word, Ivan led his recruits and the others further into the chaos; doing battle with every rebel they saw and quickly gathering a large force of peacekeepers.
By the time they reached the Moonflower compound, a mysterious force of crimson cloaked knights appeared and joined the battle in favour of the rebels.
Stray peacekeepers and Moonflower loyalists cheered out in courageous zeal at the arrival of the Reven Raven’s and the additional soldiers, despite the arrival of the mysterious army of wizards, knights and priests.
During the carnage, Ivan caught glimpses Lady Saria battling fiercely alongside her loyalists with a pike in hand; the old ranger swung his katana mightily as he cut a bloody swath through the red cloaks and their rebel allies.
Occationally, Ivan would quickly search through the crowds of death and blood to find his three new friends; he watched once more in awe at the sheer savagry of his Vorshtaran ally.

Vlan’Tur was far from disappointed with the skill of his allies as he watched the Rue twins flawlessly fight together in perfect harmony, and witnessing the old ranger’s superior blade skill after that first tumble of his.
The Vorshtaran took only a small amount of pleasure in killing the Erumaran rebels and their mixed raced crimson cloaked allies.
His staff twirled and whistled masterfully through the air before connecting firmly against the skulls, arms, chests and legs of his enemies with a sickening thudding noise every time.
Vlan’Tur ignored the stomach churning sounds easily enough as he plowed his way through his enemies towards the lady he recognized from that first evening, except she looked different dressed in a suit of studded leather armour and a feirce looking pike held tighly in her grasp.
The Vorshtaran continued to grimly bat aside his enemies as he moved closer towards Ivan, and together they fought their way to the Lady Moonflower and her elite guard.

“It’s good to see you Ivan,” Saria growled through clenched teeth as she rammed her pike into the neck of a crimson cloaked foe, gore splattered across her leather armour and blood dribbled down along the shaft of her pike.
Respectfully the Lady Moonflower dipped her head in acknowledgement of the Vorshtaran warrior at the older man’s side, before slamming her pike home into the heart of rebel.
Before long Saria found herself back to back with Ivan, Vlan’Tur and several of her soldiers as they were surround by foes.
Even though the rebels and allies were being sandwiched by the Loyalists and Peacekeepers, they still managed to put up a fierce fight.


Cassilen smiled cruelly as his forces continued to further press the Moonflower Loyalists into their compound, and he was quite pleased that the ingrate Kylek had been reassigned by Marvic; oh how he loathed the man!
The infamous owner of the Culpurt Company eventually found that the combat had rolled into a bit of a stalemate once his forces were bottlenecked at the Moonflower gates, and so he moved off to the side for a cigar break.
A thick Pi’paen cigar bellowed smoke from between his lips as he watched his men from a short distance away, and cheerily saluted their crimson cloaked allies with his cigar clenched firmly in hand when they suddenly appeared.
He grinned merrily for a few minutes before a force of peacekeeper came charging up the street with a trio of infamous Reven Raven’s in toe and one giant of a man; who could only be the Vorshtaran emissary that he had heard about.
Growling in disgust at how easily this new force flanked and overpowered his soldiers, Cassilen extinguished his cigar and hefted his massive battlehammer.
After a moment of watching these new foes, he chose to cleave a path through the carnage towards the pair of young looking Reven Raven’s since they too were cutting a devestating swath through his army.
Cassilen soon found himself looming over the young man of the two Raven’s, and down came his mighty twohanded battlehammer aimed for the boy’s skull; but the Raven dodged to the left, and on reflex Cassilen altered his hammer’s course from a downward arc into an upward cresent aimed for the Reven Raven’s chin.
Again to the large man’s frustration the katana boy simply stepped out of the hammer’s reach, this time though the boy attempted to cut Cassilen’s outstretched arms forcing the larger man once again to alter the momentum of his hammer.
Infuriated by this back to back failure, Cassilen launched a series of powerful blows aimed to take the impudent boy’s head from his shoulders.
To Cassilen’s irratation the Reven Raven continued to dodge the masterful swings, and to Cassilen’s surprise the Raven even managed to pierce his plate armour in a dozen places.
Ignoring the minor injuries, Cassilen wearily backed off his younger opponent and proceed to circle the boy waiting for an opening; hardly noticing that the young lady was no longer in sight.


Cyrteris and General Tedronnis found themselves in a slow gradual retreat from their crimson cloaked foes and their rebel allies.
Roughly twelve hundred of their peacekeepers lay dead along the street, and they were almost back in the weathly district where Cyrteris had marched his soldiers from.
Admist the confusion of the street fighting, Cyrteris noticed that General Tedronnis was no where in sight; after a quick scan through the sea of steel, Cyrteris spotted the great horns of Luthien’s helmet on the opposite bank of a river of crimson cloaks.
From what the Duke could see between opponents was that about a hundred and fifty peacekeepers, along with Tedronnis were seperated from the main force.
The Duke watched worriedly as the gap between him and his most trusted friend continued to grow exponentianally, but there was nothing he could do about it since the peacekeeper force was outnumbered from the beginning.
Battling for his life every step back down the street from once he came, Cyrteris still managed to spare quick peeks in the direction of trapped Luthien.
Soon the blur of bodies blocked his sight entirely, and soon he abandoned the effort to better focus on the enemy soldiers before him.
Over time as the battle raged, Cyrteris began to catch glimpses of a tower shield that he could hardly mistake from rememberance.
“Marvic,” He growled as he felled yet another crimsoned cloaked priest and shortly after that a knight wearing similar garb.
Fueled by rage, a sense of betrayal, and a feeling of duty; Cyrteris screamed for a counter charge that would allow him to reach his damned brother.
The peacekeeper’s shouted valiantly for King and country as they pushed their way through the larger rebel force, allowing their honourable Duke the advance he needed.
Seeing his selected target close at hand, the Duke roared out his brother’s name and descended up his twin with no fury bond.

Marvic stoically held his ground alongside his highly trained allies against the peacekeeper counter attack, his blade and body soaked with the blood of his foes.
To his surprise, the treacherous nobleman suddenly heard his name shouted above the din of combat by a peacekeeper warrior; who was drenched in the blood of Marvic’s allies.
Their blades connected with a horrific shriek of metal on metal, the heavily armoured peacekeeper wielded his long handled blade like a claymore battering it fericely against Marvic’s shield.
For what seemed like an eternity they sparred with neither gainning ground, Marvic quickly realizing that they were equals and thereby raising the stakes since this man must be a commanding officer of some kind.
Sparks flew from their scrapping swords as they intensified their pace, both attempting to find a weakness in their opponents’ defense as the minutes dragged on.
Taking a wild chance, Marvic tried to stab his helmeted foe in the throat; but failed when the man sidestepped the blow, and to Marvic’s horror his sword became tangled in the peacekeeper’s high spiked neck guards.
A victorious grunt echoed from within the full helm of his opponent, as the man’s star-hilted blade darted forward towards Marvic unguarded heart.
It was too late for his tower shield to stop the strike; defeated at last Marvic accepted his fate as the blade neared his heart.
Suddenly the road beneath their feet shook violently, and the sword aimed for his heart stumbled into his shield shoulder instead; panicking Marvic released his sword and curled his gantleted fist for a sloppy uppercut that tore the man’s helmet from his head.
“What in the Hells!?!” The nobleman bellowed in shock as he watched his stunned twin stumble away from him, Marvic’s sword clanging against the cobblestones after it dislodged itself from Cyrteris’ spiked neck guards.

Warm blood dribbled out of the corner of his mouth as Cyrteris turned his attention away from his twin to the direction of the explosion that had rocked the streets beneath his feet.
The Duke stared dumbstruck at the carnage wrought from that explosive, since he could see over shellshocked soldiers to a small bowl shapped square where peacekeepers screamed in agony as a green coloured haze hovered over them.
“Luthien!!” He screamed in denial, breaking away from his fight with his twin in order to save his already dead friend; he barely managed ten steps before being restrained by four of his peacekeepers, through his shadow of dispair Cyrteris parcially heard his Captains call a retreat to the Ducal Palace.

Tedronnis growled like an angry bear as he and a force of peacekeepers were forcably wedged away from the main host, his axe endlessly slicing his foes to bloody ribbons.
Luthien watched in frustration as he and the hundred or so peacekeepers where forced further and further away from Cyrteris.
Within moments the distance between the two forces tripled, panic was beginning to run rampant through his small force causing their solid defense to dissolve rapidly.
A few managed to keep their heads and to quickly suggest that they move to the wishing well, which was by far more defensible position than the open streets.
Soon enough this suggestion became a steady chant as it traveled along the defensive line, and without hesitation General Luthien Tedronnis gave the order to fall back to the wishing well.
“Shield wall! Now!” The wise general ordered once the entire peacekeeper force entered the small bowl shaped square, and hastily obeying their commanding officer the peacekeepers formed a wall of shields and pikes.
To the peacekeepers and Luthien’s confusion, their foes did not pursue and for a brief moment a wave of relief flooded through the peacekeeper ranks.
Worried by this lack of pursuit, Luthien stood on edge and scanned the square carefully; but noticed the assassins leaping from the roof tops a minute too late.
Five consectutive explosions knocked Luthien and his fellows off their armoured feet, and within seconds they were engulfed in a clouded of toxins that ate away at flesh and bone.
Refusing to die in such fashion, Tedronnis defiently rose to his feet and attempted to shamble towards a crimson cloaked knight that he picked out of the crowd for no apparent reason; the man was bald and had dark skin with slightly pointed ears, indicating an elf heritage.
Shaking violently Luthien singled out the man by pointing at him with his axe, before collapsing into a heap of melting flesh.

Marvic hastily snatched his sword up from where it had fallen, holding the blade before him defensively as he watched Cyrteris being towed away by four peacekeepers.
The peacekeepers, he saw were in full retreat, heading back no doubt to the heavily fortified Ducal Palace.
The nobleman moved to pursue alongside his soldiers, but the raging fire that shot through his arm halted his progress.
After sheathing his blade, Marvic winced loudly as he carefully pulled his tower shield off his wounded arm.
A crimson cloaked priest slowed his run to a halt as he past the wounded rebel, and hastily cast a healing prayer that painfully sealed and repaired the wound.
Marvic grumbled his thanks through clenched teeth as he bent over to retreive his shield, the priest hardly noticing as he rejoined the pursuit of the fleeing peacekeepers.
Strapping the shield back into place, the once again heathly nobeman soon charged after the slowly shrinking sea of red cloaks into the weathly district.

Cyrteris managed to thrash his way out of the grasp of his peacekeeper captors, and run alongside his soldiers of his own free will.
“Turn and fight! For Erumara!” Cyrteris roared in a strained voice, and the peacekeeper army halted its retreat at the Duke’s request.
This time the enemy would be coming to them, so Cyrteris hastily ordered his soldiers to cover easily defensible positions in the square they now occupied; a block away from the Ducal Palace.
The peacekeepers barely got to their positions before the battle was back on in full swing, with this slight advantage the peacekeepers successfully held their ground; while Cyrteris unleashed his full vengeful wrath upon any rebel or red cloak that ventured near.

Kenras was pacing anxciously again as he wanted for the end of the massive prayer that his underlings were performing, for the battle had now drifted farther away than before.
The explosion did little to calm his nerves, since right after that explosion the peacekeepers retreated to a position closer to the Ducal Palace.
And Kenras did not want to waste time on a siege, and to his relief the reseading sea of bodies halted once more and resumed its conflict.
“Hurry it up! You lowly ingrates!” The Shadowpriest barked at the forty other priests at the base of the warehouse that were lost in a group trance and droned out an endless string of holy prayers.

[Culmir]

Cam and Clover were both locked into their own battle with determination, they weren’t about to give up this town they’d come to appreciate more than anything, they heard many shouts of encouragement around them, people applauding their skill in combat for the brief moments they had before they too had to face their own opponents.
The battle was messy and many peacekeepers were trying their hardest to keep the worst of the battle away from the ducal palace, as that seemed to be the endzone, while trying to regain ground back to the moonflower compound so they could aid Lady Saria who was currently bozed in by enemy soldiers and was unable to aid in the battle.
Clovers feet slipped over the blood of the fallen and she had a hard time keeping her assailant off her, the man was swift to strike and seemed to know when she’d be attacking back, neither of them willing to give ground to the other, but every time Clover managed to score an injury on the man it seemed to mend on it’s own surprisingly fast.
She had never seen such a thing before and she was startled when a large peacekeeper yelled to his companions “Blast, they have the Shadowmages heal them!” upon which the man replied “I know we’re trying to get to the group but we don’t know where they are at!, I hope they send out some archers over the rooftops to see if they can locate the damned healers!”
Clover found herself nodding vigorously at the idea, it seemed to be the best movement now as she hastily blocked a jab made at her midriff, the man she was fighting seemed oddly intend to spill her intestines as most of his attacks were directed at her stomach.
She grunted angrily at the man who sneered, his face covered in blood and grime, the smell of bowels being released upon death began to permeate the air and Clover had to fight of the waves of nausea as she felt the wriggly lengths of ropey bowels that squished beneath her feet, making it all the more precarious to manoeuvre these streets.
During the battle Clover never lost sight of her brother, she felt his presence behind her and judging by the heavy blows connecting with the slim steel of his katana she knew he was in the fight of his life, similar to her predicament.

Cam sidestepped a swipe at his head once more, his footing light on the floor as the man corrected his trajectory and turned his swing in a downward blow to his arm to try and remove the katana from Cams grasp.
gripping the sword tightly Cam kept his back towards his sister, not wanting to give his opponent the opportunity to lash out at her unprotected back but the man seemed hardly aware of his twin sister for the moment and seemed completely intend to smash Cams head in with that large hammer he handled so skilfully.
Cams grey eyes darted to the left behind the man, a smirk appearing on his face though nothing was there, he tried to intimidate this large burly man, trying to trick him into becoming weary of his exposed back.
For a moment it seemed to work as he saw the flicker of doubt in the mans malicious eyes before they returned to harden and the battle began anew with a large swipe of the mighty hammer as it made a swoosh sound through the air, aimed at Cams shoulder.
Leaning back Cams back touched Clovers who pushed him back lest he loose his balance and fall, it would be the last thing he did if that happened, the large hammer swooshed by his body by a mere inch and Cam breathed a sigh of relief before thrusting his katana into the opened defence of the man, slicing through the narrow slits provided by the mans plate armour, piercing it in several places as small beads of crimson blood began to drizzle from them.
This only seemed to infuriate the man further as he continued his unrelenting attack on Cam Rue who was quickly tiring from having to dodge this large bulk of a man as they circled each other wearily.

Clover wasted no mo time dancing with her opponent, she noticed the heavy set in her brothers shoulder when he had come into her peripheral view and she knew he was on his last feet, ready to collapse.
It was going to hurt, she knew that, but she saw no other way, leaving a gap in her defences her opponent sprang to it immediately, he thrust into the opening, to have it blocked barely, leaving a larger gap for him to small the pommel of his sword hard down onto Clovers face.
She screamed as her cheekbone exploded in pain, momentarily dazed from the agony Clover sank to her knees, the man looming over her with his sword raised high over his head, going for the easiest kill in his life he thought.
With surprisingly virility Clover dashed forward, her cheek already swelling from the hairline fracture in the bone as she slammed her kodachi into the mans exposed abdomen, driving the blade in to the hilt and leaving it there.
she quickly retrieved her own kodachi, panting as she watched the man double over in disbelief, his eyes wide before they began to fade into a dull opaqueness and slumped down onto the ground, a pool of blood forming beneath him.
Clover got to her feet stiffly, her head wobbly but she didn’t think she had a concussion so she would be okay, her grey eyes locked onto her brother immediately, still circling a large man with a hammer.
He seemed intend on her brother and she narrowed her eyes, assessing the situation calmly as most of the battle continued around her, no one seemed to want to engage a small girl like her at the moment.
It gave her a good opportunity to realise what had to be done, an idea sparked in her head and a sly grin spread on her face as she began to move unnoticed behind the large man, shadowing his movements while signalling to her brother not to betray her presence.

Cam knew what Clover was hinting at but it was a childish move and not often used in battle at all and Cam almost berated his sister for thinking that it might actually work.
But upon seeing her determination it seemed he should at least try it, trying never harmed anyone he figured, so he darted forward stabbing at the mans abdomen who parried his attack easily with his large hammer though he did stumble back, at which Clover dove for the back of his knees, tackling him down to the ground where he landed with a large and clattering thud due to his armour.
Clover smirked at her brother as they watched the man to try and roll over so he could get back to his feet “all yours brother” she smiled as she threw herself onto the first red cloaked man she saw.
Cam rolled his eyes at his erratic twin as he moved over to the man, kicking aside the large battle hammer with his feet as the fingers of the man almost gripped the ornate handle of the weapon.
Stepping onto the fingers Cam heard them crack sharply as they broke as a bellow of pain erupted from the man whose face was slowly turning red from the weight of his plate mail being pressed onto his chest as Cam leaned his knee onto the dented metal, his katana slipping easily between the fissure between torso and helmet pieces, coming to rest just under the mans chin.

Kheldar had taken some great satisfaction in seeing a large battalion like that fall to the master of assassins cunning traps, at first had been sceptical about the poison that the master had said he would use but now that he had seen it in operation Kheldar was sure of the masters ability and sought out to send more such groups of peacekeepers into well designed traps as the Master oversaw it all from the rooftops.
It had shocked Kheldar a bit when he had waited on the outskirts of the poisonous billow to see how the drug worked, it had melted flesh right off the bone and the screams of terror were sure to be carved into his memory for as long as he lived.
The last image he saw was a stately man, wearing a large ornate helmet on his mane of hair, wearing a splendorous set of armoured plates pointing at him with his large axe before succumbing to the venomous gas like his battalion.
Kheldar would of loved to fight that man face to face, and he regretted for a brief moment that he had let that man into this trap, he would of made a formidable enemy and would sure give him a large boost in his fighting skills.
Turning Kheldar continued to lead his men down the battlefield, his long sword slicing through peacekeeper armour easily and while he regretted to use his drow powers he soon found himself revelling in the fact as he blasted them into pieces.
He soon caught sight of Marvic Mraen being healed by a priest before joining his rebel forces towards the ducal palace, Kheldar smoothly caught up with the man and strode alongside him with his Shadowknights in tow, he had lost many good men already while picking fights with relentless peacekeepers who didn’t seem to know when they were beat.

The Master whistled, a high pitched sound that reverberated through the air easily above the fray of battle, a large group of assassins popped up in front of him, all clad in the traditional assassin war attire, black and inconspicuous, easy to blend into the shadows and easy to blend into the drab colours these people seemed to be wearing.
The Master was reluctant to send out his best into the main battle that would surely ensue soon in front of the ducal palace, he had watched from the rooftops how Luthien Tedronnis, a man who bore many scars from many battles had finally succumbed to his poisonous gas, it gave the master great satisfaction to finally be relieved of such a powerful man.
His predecessor had left quite an extensive report of the aged general and The Master was glad to be the one to close it, it would be his finest moment in the career of Master of assassins of the Shadowcloaks.
He and his team of assassins traversed the rooftops unseen, taking down the occasional archer that had ventured onto the rooftop for better view of the battlefield, all the other archers were still helpless down in the streets, no one had given them a direct order to take to the rooftops which left them free and open to for the assassins to use.
They waited silently and vigilantly at the edges of the battle, looking down upon the waiting mass of peacekeepers, led by Cyrteris Mraen, stricken with grief over the loss of his friend and possibly his town.
the Master had not wanted to risk injuring his own therefore he had left this large open area open to all, without any boobytraps or even a small possibility that his assassins would aid, unless it was absolutely necessary would he send them in.
It was out of his hands now.

Clover snarled, a very unseemly sound for a woman as she spit a large wad of blood onto the ground, her right cheek blooming violent purple from being struck by the pommel of her opponents sword.
She had killed a fair few now and her kodachi were slick with blood and grime, chips missing from its fine blade and a hairline crack running down the other, it was due to break any moment and Clover hoped that she had enough time to retrieve her own.
Her red hair stuck to her scalp from clotted blood and she was grateful that she was born a redhead rather than blonde, else she surely would make a horrible sight right now.
Her right eye began to shut from the swelling on her cheek and Clover could barely make out what was happening, she had been hustled back with a large group of peacekeepers, losing sight of her brother who had about to give the coup de grace to the man with his battle hammer.
She was unsure of what had happened to him now and was frantically searching all around her for the familiar flop of red hair and grey eyes.
But while everyone was covered in blood they all appeared to be redheaded and many had sustained injuries to their face, some much worse than Clovers.
When she heard Cyrteris’s voice she whipped her head over to the general direction of him, shoving aside the many peacekeepers that blocked her way, cursing at her for seeming so eager to die.
Before she reached the front of the line the red cloaked men and rebels poured into the open area and the fight began anew.

[xaen]

Moments after his insulting comment slipped through his lips, Kenras released a victorious laugh as the chant reached its crescendo and a thick red haze blanketed the forty Shadowpriests below.
Seeing his cue, the head Shadowpriest leaped gracefully from the roof that he had previously occupied for most of this “war”; the chant slowly descending in volume just as quickly as Kenras plummeted from the rooftops.
As the toes of his black leather boots past through the crimson cloud, the chant ended and the world spun briefly out of control for the vile priest before his booted feet touched solid ground.
That ground was not a cobblestone street, but was rather a smooth carpet; on which he landed without breaking a leg, as if he had not just jumped from the roof of a three-story building.
Kenras smiled wickedly at the stunned faces of those underlings that had witnessed his insane leap of death, none coming to the conclusion that the Shadowpriest knew that all of his momentum would be negated by the effects of the teleportation.
Turning away from his minions, Kenras scanned his surrounds and quickly began to order his soldiers to split into two groups of twenty and to secure the building; they had landed inside an unoccupied library, thusly explaining the vast and lush carpet that covered the entire floor.
Kicking back casually into one of the cushioned chairs, Kenras smugly watched as his elite soldiers poured out of the room in an orderly and murderous fashion.
Merrily vocalizing a brief spell the Shadowpriest happily helped himself to a glass of the champagne that he had magically produced; throwing his booted feet onto the nearest table next to where he had put the champagne bottle, and pulled his black hood over his eyes while he quietly listened to the sounds of horribly surprised Peacekeepers being slaughtered by his soldiers.
“Life is sweet,” He sighed taking a relaxed sip from his crystal glass as the shriek of metal on metal echoed into the desolate library, and before long Kenras was humming a sick tune in time with the clash of weapons and screams of the dying.

Officer Veronica Heartspear and Officer Melissa Summerwind stood side by side on the sturdy walls of the Ducal Palace, and watched the “war” in the streets below from their higher vantage point; both worrying for their fellows and the beloved Duke of Fort Revenald.
With heavy hearts they witnessed the slow defeating retreat of the Peacekeeper forces, the explosion in the wishing well square, and the full retreat of their fellows.
Fifty other Peacekeepers occupied the Palace alongside the two officers, both grimly coming to the conclusion that they may have to seal the gates if Cyrteris failed to stop the rebels; even though both of the officers’ knew that the fifty-two Peacekeepers could hold the Palace for well over a week, if it came down to a siege.
They held hope though that if it came to a siege, Cyrteris and their fellows would have at least made it back into the Palace before they bottled themselves in.
But the day was still yet young and the rebels still streets away, so it was a brutally rude awakening to the Palace guards when suddenly, forty crimson garbed soldiers poured onto the ramparts from the upper floors of the Palace.
Thirteen Peacekeepers were downed before any of the Peacekeepers had a sword in hand, by then the officers were already ordering the walls to be abandoned and to fall back into the Palace.
Inside with the enemy hot on their tails, the garrison charged through the corridors killing any intruders in their way as they made a bee line for the nearest armory.
Another dozen guards died in their flight to the armory, but the brilliant officers quickly ordered the door to be barricaded behind them and for every soldier to take up a crossbow and aim it at the only other door into the chamber.
As the barricade was being built, the invaders pounded mercilessly against the wooden portal and the Peacekeepers loaded their crossbows.
For a brief pause the invaders stopped their futile attempt at breaking through the barricade to approach through the other armory door, and once finding the second door began to pound away once again.
This time the wood yielded to their powerful blows, but instantly found themselves at the mercy of a dozen crossbow bolts; those in the front fell like flies to the barrage and those standing paralyzed behind them were readily cut down by the following wave of bolts.
Like a well oiled machine the two officers order their soldiers to shoot and reload in small groups, thereby allowing them to steadily fire bolts at their foes; a trick the mysterious invaders quickly came to understand after the third group that past through the doorframe fell dead to the floor.

Kenras was pleased when the sounds of combat faded, but it was a brief pleasure when one of his priests barged into the solitary library to bring him news that the garrison had barricaded themselves in an armory.
“If you want something done right, do it yourself!” He barked out the old cliché as he whipped the crystal glass of champagne at the impudent underling, before storming off to the ground level to deal with these troublesome Peacekeepers.
With black magic mace in hand, Kenras stomped up to his soldiers that were hiding out of the sight of the crossbowmen; growling out arcane words as his steady march carried him towards the dozen or so bodies of Shadowpriests.
Reaching the door, he finished his spell as he round the corner into the sight of the crossbows; the snap of firing strings echoed loudly in his ears as Kenras defiantly walked through the barrage.
He laughed manically in the horrified faces of the Peacekeepers as they watched their bolts bounce harmlessly off an invisible magic shield, the two female officers hastily shouting, “Fire at will!”
Over thirty bolts bounced off his magic shielding during the brief minute that it took for his calm walk to bring his mace within range of the nearest Peacekeeper’s skull.
With a stomach churning crack the violent weapon brained the poor soldier in front of him and then the follow through of the blow struck the next with a similar effect.
By then the Peacekeepers threw caution to the wind with some drawing blades and others trying desperately to reload their bows.
Kenras was soon cutting a bloody swath through their ranks as his mace swung about in devastating arcs that felled two Peacekeepers at a time; any Peacekeeper that foolishly attempted to block the blow soon discovered that the weapon housed a terrible enchantment that shattered bones and blades to pieces.
In less than five minutes the garrison was cut in half by the assault, and with much difficultly the two officers managed to get the last dozen Peacekeepers to form a defensive formation with two crossbowmen behind the line of blades.
Smiling evilly Kenras called out reverently to his unholy god for the ability to massacre his foes in a fashion that would please his majesty Kassislek, and Kassislek answered his prayer.
Tilting his head back superiorly, Kenras extended his mace-free hand towards the tightly packed Peacekeepers and shouted out the name of his mighty deity.
The Shadowpriest found their screams delectable as pitch black tendrils of smoky magic fired from his fingertips and struck their shimmering breastplates.
The unholy magic smashed through the Peacekeepers defense firing them like a little girl’s ragdoll and then forcibly entering their bodies through their eyes.
Then once inside their bodies, the black smoke burned through their internal organs before burning holes into their lungs.
Their screams lasted for a full fifteen minutes, before they fell silent and the smoke fled the undamaged organless-shells that remained of the victims.
Once the last slivers of smoke dissipated Kenras turned with a wild grin on his handsome face towards the Shadowpriests that had filtered into the room during the massacre, and told them in cheery tones, “Time for some mental warfare.”


Shortly after Cassislen’s defeat at the hands of Cam Rue the battle for the Moonflower Compound was soon over, granting the Loyalists and Peacekeeper force a brief respite from combat.
Ivan and Saria had drifted away from Vlan’Tur once the fighting stopped to oversee tasks like seeing that the wounded are moved to safety, and sending runners to find other stray Peacekeepers.
Standing off to the side away from the Loyalists and Peacekeepers, Vlan’Tur idly wiped the blood from his staff and reloaded his crossbow as he watched as the wounded were carted into the Moonflower Compound.
He couldn’t find the Rue twins through the sea of the living, so he prayed that they were not part of the sea of the dead.
Within fifteen minutes Ivan and Saria ordered them to join up with Cyrteris’ force a block away and Vlan’Tur was among the first to sprint back to Cyrteris.
Vlan’Tur slid to a halt from his dead run as soon as he rounded the last corner for the chaos of the battle was baffling.
Black, Red and Silver all blurred together as soldiers ran about hacking and slashing at one another; Vlan’Tur had come running up to the fray with his crossbow in hand, but quickly decided to sling it across his back and take up his staff since the weapon was useless when he couldn’t focus on a target.
Vlan’Tur raised his staff above his head and howled a Vorshtaran war cry before charging into battle once again; in moments he was bashing crimson cloaks and rebels alike as ploughed his way into the heart of combat.

The battle raged for another eternity as Cyrteris hacked and slashed his way through his enemy’s ranks, hardly noticing as Ivan’s and Saria’s forces joined the battle alongside his soldiers.
The Duke was blinded with white hot anger as he skillfully blocked blows, dodged ripostes, and masterfully defeated foes with his refined blade work.
As his latest opponent fell dead to the ground, Cyrteris found himself in a rare spot that gave him the opportunity to assist his soldiers.
Cyrteris quickly hamstrung a heavily armored rebel that was locked in combat with a Peacekeeper as he ran through the madness, and then buried his sword into the side of another rebel tangled with a Moonflower Loyalist.
Suddenly a sword blocked his path or more importantly attempted to pierce his heart with a simple thrust, acting quickly the Duke spun to the left past the blade and face to face with its owner.
Hardly thinking Cyrteris hastily smashed the pointed pommel of his sword into the man’s face, and ducked low in case of a counter.
The star-shaped “Fangs” on the pommel ripped apart the man’s face as it crushed his pointed nose, further fortifying the reasoning behind the sword’s name.
Starfang flew swiftly through the air as the crimson cloak it struck was knocked flat on his back by Cyrteris’ momentum, and then finished off by none-other than Ivan himself.
The pair shared a quick acknowledging nod before Ivan moved on and disappeared in the fray once again, while Cyrteris searched for a new target.
With his freedom the Duke discovered that his forces would not hold much longer against such odds, for ever Peacekeeper that fell two rebels took their place.
As much as he wanted to end this rebellion in the street Cyrteris knew that his losses would be too great if he did not fall back to the Ducal Palace’s fortified walls.
“Fall back! Retreat to the Palace! Now!” Duke Mraen howled at the top of his strong lungs as he turned about and sprinted up the street in the direction of the Palace.
His officers echoed the command and so did every Peacekeeper as they strategically retreated back to the Palace walls, with Ivan and his three new allies commanding the rearguard.
When the walls of the Palace finally came into view Cyrteris was almost near the front of the army, a premature sigh of relief escaped through his chapped lips.
Cyrteris slowed his run to a fast jog because he had a bizarre feeling that something was terribly amiss with the Palace.
Moving at his slower pace, Duke Mraen carefully focused on the flag post and saw to his horror a flag that was not his own.
Skidding to a halt the Duke stared slack jawed at the abomination that flapped in the gentle afternoon breeze, a black V on a red field waved mockingly at the Duke as Peacekeepers pushed their way past him.
The jarring bumps knocked some sense back into him, but by then two dozen of his men were within a bow shot of the walls.
“Halt march! Stop! Wait! Do not return to the Palace!” He barked anxiously at the lead soldiers and those behind him, confused looks were sent his way even as the first wave of arrows descended from the sky.
The lead dozen Peacekeepers collapsed to the ground with arrows protruding from every single gap in their thick armor and those on their heels attempted to stop and turn tail, but a second volley dropped them a heartbeat later.
Panic spread like a wildfire in a forest after a long drought amongst the Peacekeeper ranks, with only the rearguard holding strong.
“By the gods! It’s Officer Heartspear and Officer Summerwind!” Someone screamed from the front of the line as eyes followed pointing fingers to a pair of somethings hanging in front of the sealed gates.
There for all to see were two brutalized and naked female bodies hanging by thick ropes bound about their necks with a massive bloody V carved into their chests, and from somewhere within the Peacekeeper army someone screamed, “The Ducal Palace has fallen!! Run for your lives!!!”
Grudgingly Duke Cyrteris agreed with that Peacekeeper’s assessment of the situation, but decided to abandon the city rather than sacrifice the lives of his loyal followers.
“Holdfast my fellows! Run for the Northern Gate!” Duke Mraen ordered pointing the way with his infamous sword, he stood there in that pose waiting for the rearguard before he too turned and ran after his Peacekeepers.
Standing alongside Ivan, Vlan’Tur, Saria, Cam and Clover Rue, Cyrteris fought madly for the lives of his followers and his friends.
It took them seemingly forever to reach the Northern Gate, and when they arrived they soon discovered that the garrison there was under attack by the rebels; occasional explosions and other horrific sounds had screamed over the roar of battle as Cyrteris’ forces had marched, meaning that some soldiers attempted to splitter off and fall prey to their enemy’s traps.
“Push through and pull any stragglers into our midst!” The Duke barked from the rear of the formation as he still battled with the tailing crimson cloaks.
Like a spearhead the Peacekeepers pierced their way through the crimson cloaks’ hasty shield line, edging the battered and disheartened soldiers ever closer to respite.
Surprised by the arrival of additional foes the rebel forces backed off their prey to properly gauge the situation, making it all the easier for the Peacekeepers to gather the Northern Gate Garrison into their fold and charge for the open city gate.

Ivan could hardly believe how out of hand this battle for the city became as he retreated, turned, and attacked repeatedly alongside the rest of the rearguard.
The crimson cloaked army was decimated, but still had superior numbers and still boasted a large number of their allies.
And the Peacekeepers were falling back to the Ducal Palace, since the Duke most likely hoped to shred through the rebel forces from the walls rather than sacrifice more lives on the streets.
Ten more dead rebels later, they reached the Palace Gates and to Ivan’s surprise they were closed and barred already; then panic flooded across the ranks as arrows were fired from the walls slaying a few dozen Peacekeepers.
A heartbeat beat later Cyrteris’ voice ordered a march for the Northern Gate, an order that made Ivan’s heart fall into his stomach.
They were abandoning the city.
Ivan soon ignored the world and forced himself to focus on nothing, but slaying every rebel that ventured too near.
Time seemed to fly for the old ranger for what in seemed like mere seconds, they were already filing though the Northern Gate.
For a brief moment a strong feeling of hope and salvation washed the minds of the Erumaran soldiers, but those feelings were forcibly scrubbed away by a barrage of magic.
It was rare to see wizards anywhere in the known world, since the magical society long ago collapsed and much was lost; but that fact hardly deterred the crimson robed spellcasters from firing everything they had into the Peacekeepers midst.
Most of the spells were of simple nature like bolts of energy or small jets of fire, signifying that most if not all of these wizards were fledglings; but from time to time truly deadly magic appeared in the form of ricocheting lightening bolts, green disintegrating rays, and small fireballs.
Even with those recently pulled into their ranks, Ivan knew that they probably only had half of the soldiers they started the day with and that they could not lose anymore if they ever hoped of one day retaking Fort Revenald.
Like a true professional Ivan left his position in the rearguard and quickly moved ahead of it as he sheathed his blade and drew out his bow.
Arrow notched and ready to fire, Ivan scanned the crowd of rebels that had swarmed around them for the wizard responsible for the more devastating magic.
With arrogance being one of the lead aspects of most wizards, the ranger didn’t have to look long before she levitated out of the crowd to better gloat and aim at the fleeing Peacekeepers.
Moving faster than anyone could have thought for someone his age, Ivan fired five consecutive arrows at the floating woman before he and the rearguard past through the gates and into the open fields.

Isabelle shrieked in terror as a wave of arrow seemingly came out of nowhere to take her from the sky, but she couldn’t have that.
Knowing it was too late for counter measures, the Head Shadowmage ducked and dodged the projectiles as best should could within the restraints of her levitation spell; which allowed almost no movement at all, aside from up or down.
Three painful direct hits caused Isabelle to howl in agony and momentarily lose control over her spell, and in a heartbeat she landed heavily on the cobblestone street.
For a moment she thought she was dead, but quickly realized that she was still breathing and quickly opened her eyes.
All she could see was the bright blue afternoon sky from her current angle, so gentle she tilted her head forward; already fearing the severity of the damage from her lofty fall.
From what she could see and feel, her legs were broken, two arrows firmly imbedded into her left arm, a broken right wrist, and one final arrow through the right side of her abdomen.
Upon seeing the tips of her broken legs through the skin on her knee caps, Isabelle had to hastily turn her head and vomit violently before fainting.

The rebels gave up the chase within the first hundred feet of the Peacekeepers escape past the northern wall, allowing the Duke to take his dutiful position at the head of the army.
Ivan, Saria, Vlan’Tur, his three surviving officers, and the Rue twins all joined him as he led their march towards the Adbyrron Forest, which was still twenty or twenty-five miles away.
For the whole twenty-three mile march not a word was spoken, by troop or commanding officer, until they reached the edge of the forest and the sun had set hours before hand.
“Quickly gather some wood for the fires, we stop here,” Cyrteris commanded in a grim and defeated tone before moving off to the side to sit on a hill that gave he a view of his lost city.
His officers were quick and efficient with their orders for within minutes a few dozen fires lit the hill side, but a solemn mood hovered over them like a thick fog as the soldiers quietly sat around the fires before falling into deep sleep.
Cyrteris however remained awake and alert, staring sullenly at Fort Revenald; fearing greatly for its citizens and any of his men that did not escape.

[Culmir]

In the fray of battle Cam couldn't find his twin anywhere, the one person he could always count on to have his back was no where in sight and it distressed him immensely when he thought of the possibility that she might of been felled by a blade or stray arrow as both sides had long forgone any decorum when it came to fighting with arrow and firing them off randomly in hopes of hitting an enemy rather than worrying about hitting an ally.
Cam limped feebly ahead, cutting a swath through the masses of red that converged on him from all sides, he could barely tell the difference between who was on his side anymore due to the large amounts of blood staining everything in a sickly red shade and more than once did he have to angle away his sword from an ally he recognized from earlier.
Cam could feel the fatigue dragging at his limbs, it took him more and more effort each time to draw up his katana though it was a light blade and easily wielded the strength was being leeched from his body somehow and the string of red clothed opponents seemed endless.
He had to keep talking courage into himself to not give up and keep on fighting even though it all seemed so bleak, it wouldn't be long before he surely would hear the fatal order to retreat, he thought darkly as he severed a mans hand clutching a mace from the rest of his body.
The spurt of blood hit him right in the face and he swiped angrily at it with his sleeves, long having shed the protective gear that was supposed to aide him, it only slowed him down and weighed almost too much for him to manage.
From a small distance away he heard the familiar voice of Cyrteris, shouting retreat to the ducal palace, Cams head swivelled nimbly on his shoulders, trying to locate his sister like he had done many times before that day, surely she would of heard the call, surely she'd be there in the palace waiting for him? surely it wouldn't be his fault that they got separated?
Growling with the feeling of uselessness breaking through his resolve to throw down his sword and begin a frantic search for his twin, he slashed viciously at a rebel coming to close for comfort, he severed the mans head from his neck with a savage surge of pleasure when he caught sight of a shock of red hair, plastered to a face that sent a stab of relief through Cams heart.
Clover..she was okay..she'd make it, though she looked a little worse for wear, an eye shut and blooming a startling purple bruise on her cheek, sweat pouring down her face and she still was the most wonderful sight Cam could of ever seen in his entire life.
Limping he tried to push through the throng of people that separated him from his twin, in the end he had to move in a diagonal fashion towards her.
When he almost reached her he heard the telltale whistle of arrows flying through the air, he dropped to the bloodstained ground immediately, catching sight of Clover doing the same thing seconds before as a rain of arrows whooshed over them, thudding sickly into human targets or ticking loudly against the cobbled streets.
The Ducal Palace wasn't safe anymore.

Clover couldn't see anymore, the bruise on her right cheek had swollen her eye shut and a gash above her left eyebrow leaked blood in a steady stream into her eye, she had to keep swiping at it continuously to try and keep a clear vision of what was going on.
Ripping a bit of red fabric from a dead peacekeeper she stuffed it tightly against the wound, she'd worry about getting it properly cleaned out later right now she needed all of her sense alert as one of her eyes was already taken out she really couldn't afford loosing the other and wandering around half blind.
Especially now that she needed to find her brother, she had heard Cyrteris shout retreat minutes before and was heading towards the Ducal palace now, all the while trying to find a familiar face among the waves of remaining peacekeepers and frantic people that were unsure of what was going on.
She heard the piercing whistle before anyone else did, dropping to the floor in a jaw cracking jolt as she raised her arms protectively over her head, the man beside her wasn't so fortunate, an arrow sunk home into his shoulder with a fleshy snick and the howl of agony followed soon thereafter.
Thinking she was in the clear Clover began to scurry back on her stomach as the second volley of arrows was launched at them, an arrow piercing Clovers ankle as she screamed in pain.
As she tried to get up on her undamaged leg a hand closed around her shoulder and squeezed, survival instincts kicked in and Clover turned her head to the offensive hand on her shoulder and bit down hard, the familiar yelp of her brother stopped her from biting down harder and holding fast.
She looked up dazed to see her twin crouching beside her trying to help her get to her feet, she attempted a smirk but failed as he rubbed at the crescent moon teeth indentations on the back of his hand "well, serves you bloody right for grabbing at me" she snapped as she hopped around on one foot, wiping furiously at the gash above her eyebrow.
"we need to retreat Cyrteris is right over there, I saw him run past just now and we should aid him in his need to get as many people as he can out of the town, there's no telling what will happen to them if we leave them behind in the hands of these rebels" Cam spoke urgently while glancing around.
They seem to be getting a bit of a momentary lapse in battle that made for a good moment to discuss strategy as Cam tried to help Clover to walk on her own, her head was spinning in a less than good fashion, she clutched her brother for support as the world around her began to spin more violently.
Doubling over Clover spewed the brunch she had enjoyed just this morning all over the ground "ugh" she moaned as she wiped at her mouth when she was done "I hate large battles" she groaned as Cam tried to lead her away from the ducal palace, sliding in with the rest of the people who were following Cyrteris.
Hopping along on one leg Clover bit the insides of her cheeks raw ever time the arrow grazed past something, every bit of colour draining from her face as the pain jolted through her entire body "Cam" she spoke through clenched teeth as she hopped again "you need to break off the arrow bits on both ends" she said breathlessly as she sank down onto the cobbled streets, not far from her she could see Cyrteris standing beside Ivan and Vlan'Tur, they were soon joined by Saria "do it quick we need to get to Cyrteris and the others" she hissed.

Cam stared hard at his twin sister as he grabbed onto the protruding end of the arrow "This will hurt" he said as she nodded briskly, stuffing a scrap of leather in between her teeth so she wouldn't bite her tongue off "juff do iff" she said as she looked away.
Cam took a deep breath and applied pressure to the wooden shaft until it cracked loudly, blood began to flow from the wound a bit and he ripped a discarded red cloak from their surroundings binding it tightly.
Sweat was pearling down Clovers pale face as she breathed heavily, spitting out the piece of leather she let her brother help her up, she hopped again, this time the pain was more bearable now the arrow no longer brushed against anything.
"Okay" she exhaled, wiping the sweat and blood of her face as she and Cam made their way over to Cyrteris, joining their ranks silently as she took in the damage of their companions in silence.

When Cyrteris made the call of heading to the northern gate neither Cam nor Clover could muster a fight and decided to stick as close to the people as they could so to avoid combat where it was possible.
The remaining peacekeepers and inhabitants of Fort Revenald pushed them like a cresting wave towards the northern gate, there was some resistance along the way but they made it out safely, some lives were lost at the hands of assassins springing up out of nowhere but no major casualties.
Cam supported his sister along the way to the Adbyrron forest a couple of miles along the way, in the end Cam had to hustle some peacekeepers that were still able bodied into fastening a make shift stretcher for his sister who was loosing blood rapidly through the head wound as well as the arrow that had darted through her ankle.
Cam waited vigilantly by his sister for as long as he could muster it when they did finally set camp it didn't take long for both of them to drift off, though Cam woke frequently to check on his twin and if she was still breathing.
A healer had come to see her briefly but had moved on rapidly after tying the wounds off with some new scraps that were soon drenched with blood, Cam figured that the morning might bring new possibilities so he waited.

Kheldar growled at the healer that poked at the wound in his shoulder, he couldn't believe that an arrow, one of his own people, had actually hit him, of course the man responsible was currently being quartered in the courtyard of the ducal palace.
And somewhere in this grand place there was a Shadowpriest laughing his ass off surely at this predicament, it was so shamefull to have to come to these priests for healing especially since they were being ruled over by such a nasty fellow.
They hadn't heard anything from the Master or lady Isabelle so Kheldar was beginning to worry something had gone wrong and they both were slain in combat, but he found it hard to imagine that a man like the Master of assassins was so foolish as to venture into the battle while he could remain safely on the rooftops.
Surely the man was simply sitting around positively gloating like that arrogant Kenras.

the Master sighed contently, leaning back in his chair back safely in his own compound, where no one could disturb him, he figured when they'd need him they would send for him eventually

[xaen]

Marvic watched as his brother and his army slowly shrunk on the horizon, with a victorious smile plastered on his sweaty and bloody face.
He turned back to his own army, raised his sword above his head and screamed, “The city is ours!”
A triumphant cry from his own rebels and his allies flooded the fields outside of Revenald’s Northern Gate, before they turned as a singular body and marched back into the city.
Marvic pushed and shoved his way through the sea of blood soaked and sweaty bodies to the front of the line as they made their collective way to the captured Ducal Palace.
Bodies that lay on the street were trampled as the army of rebels marched through the streets that were slick with blood, and stank of sweat and death.
The Lord Mraen strode in an arrogant fashion with his chin held high as he led the procession back to his promised throne.
After hours of seemingly endless conflict, the streets were quiet and the citizens that did not flee the city cautiously emerged from their homes and businesses to survey the damage.
“Spread the word that the new King of Asendil demands that his subjects gather outside the Palace walls to hear his words tomorrow morning,” Marvic Mraen ordered of one of his rebel soldiers, who nodded and then gathered a bunch of his fellows to help him with his task.
As the calm parade of triumphant rebels neared the Ducal Palace, Marvic quickly began to feel how tired he really was from all of this fighting.
Soon the Ducal Palace walls grew almost larger than life before as the gates drew near, another cheer rose from the hoarse throats of the rebels and their crimson cloaked allies.
The cheer died swiftly when they came close enough to see the pair of mutilated bodies dangling by their necks from the walls, Marvic flushed red with anger as he stared disgustedly at the display of horrid savagery.
A loud creaking noise came from the thick wooden gate as the heavy iron chains pulled them open, and Kenras Savrantas swaggered through them before they were even fully opened.

“Welcome home honoured King,” Kenras mocked as he approached with a sinister grin scrawled evilly across his handsome elvish face, his arms stretched wide in a welcoming fashion as he approach Marvic.

“What in the names of the gods is that!!?!” Marvic screamed into Kenras’ face when the half-elf stopped about an arms length away from the infuriated nobleman, Mraen’s finger accusingly pointed at the brutalized women hanging from the wall.

Kenras frowned at the sharp retort from the rebel leader, and idly followed Marvic’s indicating digit until his gaze fell lightly upon his vile handy work.
He matched glares with the heaving nobleman in front of him, the army of rebels and Shadowcloaks having come to a halt behind the pair of disgruntled leaders.
Smiling viciously the High Shadowpriest leaned closer to Marvic’s scowling features, and sneered happily, “THAT, my friend is called moral warfare. It strikes fear into the hearts of your enemies.”

“Damn you to the pits of the Abyss, you Bastard!” Marvic spat instantly back at the smirking priest and then added furiously, “Cut them down, NOW!”
His knuckles turning white as he tightly gripped the blood stained hilt of his sword, as he waited for Kenras to comply.
A feeling of unease settled upon the gathered army as Kenras’ snide smile faded quickly at the threat, and transformed in a condemning sneer as his hand rested warningly on the handle of his black iron mace.
The sound of shuffling feet could be heard behind Marvic as the two forces split apart, with the small rebel force to the right and the larger Shadowcloak force to the left.
Panicked ramblings drifted through the air from the rebels’ side since many were not only tired from the battle, but also they knew that they were outnumbered.
The stares of the two leaders intensified as Rasvin Tresm, Melissa Thekwis, and Kylek Jymer approached alongside their own remaining rebel forces; seeing the stand off they quickly moved over to the right side.
Seeing the disturbance outside the Palace walls, the Shadowcloaks occupying the Ducal Palace suddenly lined the walls with bows and crossbows in hand.
Tension continued to rise and almost boiled over, and then Kenras laughed wickedly aloud drawing confused looks from both sides.

“Cut them down and give them a proper burial,” Kenras called up to those on the walls with tones of sick amusement dripping from his voice, his hand leaving the handle of his black iron mace.
Marvic warily removed his hand from his weapon as well, but the disgusted frown never left his face as he and Kenras entered the Ducal Palace alongside the other remaining rebel leaders.

A cautious mood settled over the five of them as they wandered through the halls and made their way to the Duke’s audience chamber.
The other four gathered before Marvic as he seated himself behind Duke Cyrteris’ desk and locked gazes with each of his allies from his seat of power.
“As promised each of you shall be rewarded with a place of power within my new regime,” King Marvic Mraen declared from behind the ducal desk which he knocked over by firmly planting his booted foot upon its edge and shoving with what strength remained.
The desk tumbled loudly from its raised pedestal, before splintering apart when it struck the stone floor; since it was elaborately decorated with the symbol of the Erumaran crown it provided a brilliant metaphor for how they had toppled the ruling power of the city.
“Rasvin, you shall assist me with the affairs of the Palace and City. Melissa, you shall be in charge of the Merchants and the City’s trade. Kylak, you shall be in charge of the new city guard,” He dictated from his throne atop the raised podium, his closest allies nodding satisfactorily as he appointed them to their positions of power.
“Now Kenras, what shall we do with you and your army?” King Mraen inquired of his mysterious ally that who provided Marvic with an assured victory and the new king knew that he could not protect the city with his forces alone.
“If you don’t mind I would like to request that you and your army remain in the city until we can protect ourselves properly on our own,” He continued saying it with an imperious tone as he glared at the vile creature standing next to Rasvin Tresm, Kenras smiled knowingly at the newest power in the world that was grudgingly asking for his help.

“Off course you would demand something like this from me when you only have a fourth of your own army remaining,” The Shadowpriest mocked snidely as he inched closer to the throne, still smiling like a madman.
“And you still don’t realize who we are or who we serve,” Kenras added with superior look in his eyes as the others in the room drifted slowly away from him.

“By Pugharr what are you talking about?” Marvic howled, jumping up from his throne in an instant, he was greatly disturbed by how the arrogant fool declared this comment.

“We are the Shadowcloaks!!! The mortal servants of the Divine Tyrant, Kassislek!!” Kenras howled like a crazed zealot, throwing his hands towards the sky as if the mighty god would descend from the ceiling at the mere mention of his name.
At the utterance of the name of his god, Kenras’ Shadowpriests stormed into the audience chamber alongside Shadowknights and Shadowmages.
Marvic’s confidants hastily backed away from Kenras and the Shadowcloaks that swiftly circled around them, the new “King” drawing his sword and holding it before him defensively.
That sick smile that all too familiar for everyone shined on Kenras’ handsome face as he calmly approached Marvic Mraen, “Sadly my dear Marvic, you were mistaken when you assumed that we would surrender the city to you after your little rebellion.”
Kenras drew his black mace and held it casually at his hip as he stopped just out of Marvic’s reach, “Now put that away before someone dies. Besides we can work this out.”
Hesitantly Marvic sheathed his longsword and glared hatefully at the man that had tricked him into this rebellion.
“That’s a good boy. Now since neither I, nor the other Leaders of the Shadowcloaks have little task for running a city. I am willing though to offer this position to you and your allies here, in return for your obedience and servitude,” Kenras musically explained to the defeated nobleman, this being why he had even allowed Marvic to go so far.
“Of course if you refuse, we all know what happens don’t we?” The Shadowpriest teased as he locked gazes with Marvic, and seeing the trapped look in the man’s eyes pleased him all the more.
“Well? What say you?” Kenras demanded in a gentle uncaring tone as he rolled his wrist making his mace draw a small circle in the air before him.

Inside his mind Marvic screamed in unrestrained outrage at being trapped like this, but outside his mind he stood stoically while Kenras happily explained his options to him.
After a moment of stewing over his options, Marvic sighed in defeat willing to submit to Kenras’ will.
“Fine then, how can I serve you Master?” Marvic grumbled grudgingly with a spiteful look on his face as he slightly bowed to Kenras, who howled hysterically with wild insane laughter.

“Ooh I like the sound of that!! Master! Oh how it rings in my ears! What do you three think?” Kenras sang mockingly before turning on the others in the chamber, all three anxiously glanced at each other before saying in unison, “It sounds wonderful, Master.”


Cyrteris blinked his eyes repeatedly and groaned as he rose stiffly from the cool grass where he had fallen asleep the night before, when he had finally succumbed to exhaustion.
Next to where had fallen alseep a skin of water and small slice of bread lay amongst the cool grass, probably left there by Ivan or some other concerned person; his stomach ordered him to eat the meager helpings with a growl, an order he quickly obeyed and gobbled up the small meal.
The sun was shining right into his sore and still tried eyes when he woke on the hill that morning, with a yawn and another groan he stretched and surveyed the makeshift camp a dozen or so away from him.
There were roughly eighty burned out campfires spread out along the forest’s edge, each bonfire was surrounded by thirty or more people and peacekeepers.
It was clear to the Duke that only the most loyal of Erumaran subjects had followed the peacekeeper army out of the city since maybe only a hundred people, women and children included, were gathered amongst the peacekeepers.
Cyrteris mental guessed that he probably only had about half of the amount of peacekeepers he had started the previous day with, before the rebellion that upseated his rule over the city.
He watched his soldiers mill about aimlessly, or gather fuel for the fire, or ration what little provisions they had to the cizillians, before he noticed the beseeching looks from Ivan and the three remaining Captains that demanded his guidence.

“What shall we do, Lord?” One of the Captains anxiously inquired as he shuffled from foot to foot, the young man’s left arm held firmly in lopsided looking straightness caused by the crude splint tied to the broken apendage.

Cyrteris found it disturbing to look at the injury, and quickly decided to look the young man in the eye.
As it turned out he literally looked the poor fellow in the “eye”, since one bore a horrible scar which clearly showed the path of the weapon that took the eye from its socket.
Sickened by the gruesome wound, Cyrteris spun his gaze over the other two Captains hastily to see how they had fared; both sported at least a dozen minor wounds and bruises each, but otherwise they seemed to have better luck than their partner.
“Well, I don’t know to be honest. Um..how much food and drink is there to ration first off?” Cyrteris clumsily mumbled just loud enough for Ivan to decipher it, while the other three gave him confused sideways stares.

“The civillians brought only what they could carry, and since the soldiers and ourselves were busy with the rebels. I’d say next to none at the moment,” Ivan sighed at recounting the results of his and the Captains’ early search that morning, and figuring that since he was currently in charge of being the barrer of bad news he might as well deliver all of it.
“The scouts I sent out earlier this morning have returned already. One critically injuryed,” Ivan told the Duke grimly before pausing to let the information set in, it didn’t take long for Cyrteris’ eyes to widen in surprise.

“They’ve already fortified the walls with soldiers?!? Did the scouts see any sign of the rebels preparing to mobilize?!” Cyrteris exclaimed as he spun on his heels to stare back towards his city, slightly in a panic caused by the possiblity of his brother coming to finish off Cyrteris’ wounded and tired army.

Ivan gently waved his hands before himself in a calming motion, and saying in a soothing tone, “Yes, your brother has somehow produced enough soldiers to man the walls already without public dispute. But no there were no signs of pursuit, we are safe for now.”
“But even though that is the case at the moment, we can not wait here in the open for your brother to come and finish us off,” The old ranger quickly added before the look of profound relief could find a hold on the Duke’s face.

Cyrteris nodded his agreement to Ivan’s assessment of situation, staring off into the clouds for a dozen silent seconds Cyteris contemplated his next move.
“Ivan, isn’t the Adbyrron forest abundent with deer and forageable berries and other forms of food?” The former Duke of Fort Revenald quizzically inquired of the ranger, who smiled cheerily at the question and mentally chastised himself for forgetting such a key piece of information.

“Indeed it is m’lord, I also recall that there is a slow moving river not far from here that is fresh and pure,” Ivan answered with a relieved expression growing on his face as his spirits steadily rose, the three Captain’s were grinning as well showing that their hope was steadily returning as well.
“I shall instruct that anyone who knows how to hunt into the forest, and those that can’t I will tell them what plants are poisonous and which are edible,” The ranger rambled a moment later, before hastily wandering off to start the search.

“Wait my friend,” Cyrteris called before Ivan could get too far, the old ranger twisted about to send the Duke a “Yes, what is it?” look.
“How far is it to the river from here?” He asked the knowledgeable old man, who shrugged his aged shoulders when he answered and pointed.

“The river’s about an hour’s walk to the east from here, why?” Ivan asked interested as to where this was going, so he turned about facing Cyrteris directly waiting for him to continue.

“Before you give the order to forage for food, I want you to give the order to move our encampment near to the river’s banks,” Cyrteris told Ivan and the three Captains before him, all four nodded vigourously before sprinting off rousing the camp of Erumarans into action.
The Duke watched them go feeling much better with himself than earlier that morning, since the weight of the events of the night before were dragging down his spirit into the dirt.
He was mentally honest with himself, Cyrteris knew that he was blaming himself for the deaths of his men and the imprisonment of his people; even though he knew that there was nothing he could do to prevent his brother’s rebellious actions.
By saving these few that had escaped his brother’s clutches, Cyrteris figured that he might be able to break free from the horribly feelings of self-pity that clouded his mind.
He stood there in the open for a half-hour that to him felt like only a few seconds, and by then the peacekeepers where ready to march.
Ivan led the procession with Vlan’Tur and Saria Moonflower at his side, with the three remaining Captains directly behind them.
When the last of the soldiers marched past him, the Duke took a step to follow the train of Erumarans but stumbled forward and just about landed face first into the grass, his vision was spinning out of control and his head was pounding behind his eyes.
Vomiting into the grass Cyrteris tried to rise from his kneeling position, but found that his arms ignored him and proceed to shake violent at their own accord.
Groaning with the effort, he attempted to force his legs to straighten through the pounding of his headache.
A moment later, he collapsed from the strain and almost landed in the puddle of vomit that he now stared at as his vision blurred.
A soldier ran from their formation to aid the downed Duke, his vision was so far gone that Cyrteris couldn’t make out any facial features even from four inches away; not that it would have mattered that it was Clover who had run to his aid.
Faint voices filtered through the haze as his consciousness began to fade, even though the words screamed at the top of their lungs Cyrteris only heard an incomprehensible slur of sound.

“What the hells happened?” Ivan roared as he charged down the line after news of the unconcious Duke reached at the front of the line, the healer that had responded to Clover’s calls for help didn’t answer and continued to direct two peacekeepers as to how to put Cyrteris’ body onto the makeshift stretcher they had lain next to his body.
Ivan skidded to a stop and loomed over the physician and his helpers, he was so shocked by the sight of the Duke that he sucked at the air like a fish out of water.
Cyrteris was laying on the ground perfectly still, inhumanly pale, a frothy white foam oozed from his open mouth, and his veins were all visible through his skin.
“What in the name of the gods is happening to him?!?” Ivan insisted of the healer that continued to shift about examining his patient, Clover and her brother stood off to the side watching as the peacekeepers lifted Cyrteris’ stretcher and moved to follow the shrinking line of peacekeepers; since Cyrteris’ orders still held more importance than his own sudden mysterious ailment, besides the needs of many had to come before the needs of one even if that one is the Duke.
The healer merely shrugged as a reply and followed the body as it was carried off by his assistants, offering only a possible answer, “It could be an infected injury, or some serious wound that he had ignored.”
Ivan stared after the body of the young man that he had secretly loved like a son, worried beyond all reason that the only person left that he cared for might die from a stupid battle wound.
A solemn silence descended upon the hillside as he watched the stretcher fade into the mass of bodies, and with a sigh that broke the silence Ivan looked at the twins and jerked his head towards the column of soldiers soundlessly ordering the pair to rejoin the others.
Ivan waited for them to go before he moved to follow, he paused on the hill to turn and look at the city wondering what was happening there before his mind continued to worry Cyrteris.


Almost everyone had forgotton about the badly wounded Isabelle, who had lain in the streets unconscious for the whole night completely undisturbed.
She never woke during the passing of the hours, not even when a pair of clawed hands gently lifted her from the cobblestone street into the air.
Even as the wind howled through her hair, Isabelle did not stir from her comatose state as her saviour landed easily on the parapets of the Ducal Palace.
He easily walked right past the two dozen Shadowcloaks that manned the walls into the Palace, past the three dozen guards inside, and then up to the former Duke’s private chamber.
As silent as a ghost, he placed Isabelle’s broken body onto the Duke’s clean and empty bed; she groaned slightly when he removed his hands from underneath her body and left her in the embrace of the cool blankets.
Whispering words in a hoarse sounding language, Isabelle’s saviour carefully placed a clawed finger against her forehead.
A bright white light briefly illuminated the chamber as it flooded through Isabelle’s body, before fading and hiding him completely in the darkness.
The only sign that their was anyone else in the chamber aside from the soft and healthy sounding breath of Isabelle, and a pair of bright purple slanted eyes.
The pair of seemingly disembodied eyes glided across the chamber to the door, mentally checking off his second task from a list of three; it was time to move on to the third, now that Cyrteris’ death was ensured and Isabelle’s return to health was underway.
Entering the hall, the pair of purple eyes came face to face with its third task; a wide eyed and slack jawed Kenras stared at the massive figure before him with the soul piercing violet eyes.
“Hello Kenras Savrantas, devote servant of Kassislek, congratulations on capturing the city in his holy name,” The violet eyed figure smiled from inside its cloak as it spoke to the Shadowpriest, whose eyes looked close to popping out of his eyes.
“Don’t speak just listen. I want you to gather the others for a meeting tomorrow night. Do not tell them that I am coming. If you do, your death will be slow,” The shadow shrouded figure continued as it brushed past the stunned priest, who did his best to hide his fear; something the high priest rarely felt and rarely had to hide since he was in such high standings with his god.
Kenras nodded his understanding as he watched the violet eyed figure moved down the corridor, where it stopped to say, “By the way, Isabelle’s laying unconcious in the Duke’s private chamber. And I want to see you at Marvic’s public speech this morning along with the others. Goodbye.”

Kenras blinked to sooth his dry and sore eyes, but when his eyes reopened the figure was gone.
The Shadowpriest scrambled towards the stairs in search of the violet eyed figure, but only found the guard he had placed at the bottom of the stairs.
A concerned look was sent his way by the guard, who noticed that the Shadowpriest was pale and sweaty profusely and foolishly he asked, “Are you alright, m’lord?”
Kenras grabbed hold of the man by the collar of his tabard and lifted him into the air; a feat made possible by the blessing and favor of his deity.
“Where did he go!?! Did you see him!!?!” Kenras demanded of the confused underpriest, who stammered fearfully as he tried to ease the pressure on his throat by pulling up on the arm that held him in the air, “Wwwhhaaatt? I-i-I say N-n-No one, and N-n-no one got by me.”
Eyes like a madman, Kenras dropped the terrified soldier and stormed off down the hall leaving the guard to confusedly watch the High priest’s departing form.
After a dozen fuming minutes, Kenras retrieved two courier pigeons and two pieces of parchment, on which he quickly scribbled an unencrypted message demanding the Master’s and Kheldar’s presence at the public message tomorrow morning and for the meeting that same night.
Anxiously Kenras watched the birds disappear into the night sky, he didn’t sleep a wink that night.

Marvic felt that morning came early this day, when he was awoken rather rudely by one of Kenras’ priests.
“Get up its time for your speech, Your Highness” The man mocked before leaving the chamber, Marvic growled in reply before rising from his bed to dress himself.
In a resigned fashion similar to that of a slave, Marvic emerged from his chambers and quietly wander the Palace halls as he made his way to the Gatehouse.
The Gatehouse overlooks a large square where he had ordered the people to gather for his big speech from its walls to his people.
Marvic wandered up the stairs to the walls and took his place in the middle of the wall above the gate, from there he looked out into square that was filled with every citizen in the city.
A few feet away from him on his left stood Rasvin Tresm, Melissa Thekwis, and Kylek Jymer, and on his right Kenras, and three others Marvic did not know.
There was a woman in red robes, a bald headed warrior, and a man dressed head to toe in black perfectly hiding all of his features, and Kenras wore his usual black and red ensemble.
With a deep breath Marvic began to shout at the top of his powerful lungs, “Welcome my subjects! As you know, I have upseated the tyrant that has ruled over this fair city for far too long! I, Marvic Mraen, am your new sovereign now that I and my faithful followers have removed the influence of the corrupted Erumaran Crown! All I ask for this service to you is that you swear your loyalty to me and our new independent kingdom of Asendil!”
His words reached every ear in the square below, a feat made possible by Isabelle’s subtle spell that enhanced Marvic’s already powerful voice.
A strange silence decided upon the square as the words settled into the general populaces’ minds, but within seconds the people were in an uproar; hundreds of angry voices decryed his words of being their saviour, and his lies that Erumaran crown was corrupt and tyrannical.
Many of the people in the crowd began to march towards the gates with makeshift weapons in hand, their angry words threating the false “king’s” life.
Then as suddenly as it started the impending riot was thwarted by the sudden appearance of crimson cloaked soldiers at every exit of the square and crimson cloaked archers that popped up from concealment on the walls; clearly Kenras and his allies suspected this kind of reaction from te general popuace and took precautions to ensure the safety of their puppet, Marvic thought bitterly.
Within moments the mob melded back into the crowd as they abandoned their makeshift weapons on the cobblestone street, before audibly crying out their rather flimsy sounding allegiance; but flimsy was better than more bodies on the street, and with that Marvic ordered the crowd to dissipate.
With a quick glare at Kenras, who looked as arrogant as ever smiled and bowed to Marvic as the new King stormed off to his throne room to deal with the tasks the Shadowpriest thrust onto his shoulders.
The whole time this was happening, Marvic’s brother ingested his poison and the sun hardly reached the ten o’cloak hour point, and a black winged figure flew off from his perch on a roof across the street from Marvic and his cohorts without notice.

That figure flew unseen across the day lit sky all the way to the Ildera Forest, where he landed soundlessly in a small clearing.
Upon landing he rolled his shoulders and sucked in a steadying breath in preperation for what was to come.
With a stomach churning crack the transformation began, after a string of similar cracks it was over just as soon as it started and once it was over he made his way back to his camp.

[Culmir]

Cam spent most of his night up and about doing things around the camp and occasionally bringing cold compresses to his twin, as Clover broke into a fever during the night, it was stressful for everyone in the camp, the screams and agonized moans of the injured kept Cam awake during most of the first night they spent in the Adbyrron forest.
He helped wherever he could, trailing behind those few that had medical skills and needed an extra pair of hands to help out, before dawn broke Cam had helped treat mild injuries like sprained ankles and wrists, to the more severe ones where limbs would have to be amputated in order to stop infection from settling in, twice that night Cam caved and had to limp away to spew up his stomachs contend, not that much was in there to begin with so the bile burnt a violent path down his throat.
The worst one was a young man whose leg was already turning septic and Cam along with another man had to pin the man down while two of their healers used a crude wood saw to cut off the leg above the knee, Cam still shuddered at the thought as well as the rancid smell of decay that had settled into the mans leg wound.
When dawn finally broke Cam was a beaten man, sitting beside his sisters cot as she had tossed in her fevered sleep until finally the sweat had broken through her delirium, breaking the fever effectively and allowing her some moments of peaceful sleep
He sat down on the ground beside her, his legs pulled up in front of him as he rested his arms and head onto them, he dozed off like that a few times, only to wake up with a start as flashes of maimed bodies haunted his mind.
In the end he slumped against Clovers cot and fell asleep out of sheer exhaustion, not being able to hold out any longer.

Clover woke groggily, barely remembering what had happened after they made it out of the towns gates, all she knew was she had a really bad taste in her mouth and she wanted to get rid of it as soon as possible, running a hand through her hair she grimaced when she discovered the still caked blood tangled in her hair, sticking the strands together like muck.
Wrinkling her nose she gingerly moved her injured leg off the cot as she discovered her sleeping brother beside it, as she moved she could feel the strange tug from the makeshift stitches that had been put into her leg to close off the wound inflicted on her by the arrow.
Movement at the end of their little make shift infirmary made Clover look up, a slim looking man was walking briskly towards her, his blue eyes intend on her as she froze, eyes wide
“good to see you’re up and about ms Clover” he smiled as he stopped in front of her “uh..” she stammered, patting awkwardly on the cot she was sitting on “sorry, I’m not sure who you are?” she asked as she put her foot carefully onto the forest ground, trying to put some weight on it bit by bit “oh, sorry, I’m the healer of course” he beamed at her as he handed her a small carved out bowl that contained some water “its from the river, its fresh, you’ll need to replenish your fluids after losing so much blood, so I want you to drink a lot today” he looked at Clover sternly, a little twinkle in his eyes before he turned around to walk away “by the way, you can walk on that leg, for short amounts only, and no excessive movements or your stitches will pop and you’ll start bleeding again” he spoke over his shoulder as Clover gulped down the water.

“you heard him twin” a familiar voice spoke.
Clovers head whipped around, cracking her neck noisily as she stared into the pale and sunken eyes of her brother who had woken up because of the talking going on around him.
“I wasn’t planning on doing anything” Clover shot back instantly, flushing a brilliant red to match her blood stained hair.
“Yeah, your face says differently” Cam joked, though his voice lacked infliction and the usual sparkle that accompanied it remained from his eyes.
Clover looked away guiltily, focusing on her surroundings “so where are we and what’s up?” she asked as she scratched her itchy head, thinking she badly needed to get to that stream her healer mentioned.
Cam sighed, letting out his breath slowly as he stared down at his dirty hands, blood still caking under his fingernails “we’re in the Adbyrron forest, we’ve set up a sort of make shift camp, from what I saw during my nightly helping moments the estimated amount of people to make it out lies around the hundreds” he paused “a lot of people are injured or are wandering around idly not sure of what they should do” he stopped, looking up at his sister whose grey eyes were murky as she pondered that.
“I think we have to find Cyrteris, aid him in getting his people mobilized” Clover said as she pushed off the cot and gingerly rested her full body weight onto both her legs, her face contorting into a grimace of pain when she moved her leg, the unfamiliar tug of the crude sutures making her slightly uneasy.

Cam hopped up from his spot on the floor, wrapping his arm under Clovers, allowing her to rest some of her weight onto his shoulders “Thanks” she breathed as any blood in her face drained away, leaving her pale and slightly off balance.
They made their way from campfire to campfire, asking around if anyone had seen either Cyrteris or Ivan, occasionally they answered questions asked to them by confused citizens that had been pushed out of the city walls by the throng of people already going that way, like a wave sweeping away seaweed.
In the end they learned from an elder woman who had seen Cyrteris asleep in a field and left him some food that she had seen him wandering around and meeting up with Ivan and a couple of peacekeeper captains not far from her cooking fire.
They thanked the woman and went on their way, finding an oddly familiar face among the survivors, Poledra.
The head chef was dishevelled, her usually clean apron torn and bloodied as she hurried around with large piles of twigs, ready to toss them into a dying fire.
“Poledra!” Clover exclaimed, genuinely relieved to see the matron cook having survived and actually made it out of the ducal palace somehow.
Poledra looked up, her greying hair in disarray and her tawny eyes wide from being spoken to by familiar voices, her face lit up upon seeing the twins “oh dears” she sighed, clutching her chest “I was so worried none of you survived, I’ve been looking everywhere for familiar faces of people I knew to be in the front lines” she babbled, clearly so overwhelmed that she compensated by talking abundantly “I haven’t seen Cyrteris or Ivan or Saria or Luthien or even that burly plainsman you asked me to make food for”
“It’s okay Poledra” Cam spoke calmly as he grabbed the womans fluttering hands and gripped them reassuringly “you can come with us, we know where Cyrteris is, and I’m sure he’d be interested in knowing how you got out of the palace and if you know anything else that might be of use” he spoke clearly, maintaining eye contact with the woman the entire time to see if his words registered.
Poledra nodded slowly, her tawny eyes darting back and forth between Cam and Clovers grey ones as they both plastered reassuring expressions onto their face.
“Okay lead the way” Poledra said as she dropped the pile of branches she was carrying near the pile that had already been laid out close to her.

The trio made their way slowly through the forest until in the distance they could make out the group of men, clearly discussing something avidly and then dispersed, they encountered the captains making their way over back to the several gathered groups of men, women and children.
“We’re to move towards the river banks” one of the captains said “we could use some help to rally everyone” he looked back and forth between the three of them as he then moved beyond them and began to instruct people on where to go.
Cam and Clover stuck together, Clover leaning heavily on her brother and eventually even fastening a crutch from a large broken off branch so she could keep the weight entirely off her leg.
It was tiring work, many people were still confused and unsure of what had happened and it took a whole lot of explaining and even more coaxing and convincing to make them move to the appointed place.
All in all they were all ready to march in 30 minutes since the orders had been issued.
Poledra joined Cam and Clover once more, as she seemed unwilling to approach any of the other leaders as she was after all just a servant in the ducal palace and she felt it might be intruding if she pressed her company on them whereas the twins were easy going and accepted the matron cook like a welcome addition to their company.

As they were following the procession they began to fall behind because of Clovers injured leg, as well as the fatigue of the day and night finally taking their tolls on their bodies.
Clover was the first to notice that Cyrteris was making up the rear of their party and was looking worse for wear, she kept glancing back anxiously.
“Cyrteris!” Clover yelled as she watched him stumble as if in slow motion, landing on his knees in the grass as what little he had for breakfast made its reappearance in the grass in front of him.
Tossing aside the branch she had been using Clover darted back over the grass, gritting her teeth against the agony lancing up her leg and the sharp tugs of the sutures being pulled painfully into her flesh.
Landing painfully on the ground beside the fallen and ill duke Clover tried to get him into a more stable position, screaming for help at the retreating backs of men and women.
She was close to tears as the same healer that helped her that morning rushed over to her and began to fuss over Cyrteris’s unconscious body immediately as Cam tried to pry her out of the mans way but she wouldn’t budge “is he going to be okay?” she kept asking as a sickly white foam was frothing from Cyrteris’s mouth.
When Ivan reached them after a couple of minutes Cam had yanked his sister roughly off the ground and out of the way from several other healers that were scurrying around the ailing duke.
Cam tried to soothe his sister as well as he could and when Ivan jerked his head he urged his sister to rejoin the long parade of men and women as they all resumed their trip to the river bank, with their leader now being unconscious and suffering some weird type of illness.
Things seemed to be going downhill for the people of Fort Revenald.

Kheldar paced back and forth in front of his remaining men, his large broad sword dangling from its sheath tied to the belt that looped his waist as well as crossing onto his back, his red eyes blazing as she stared long and hard at the surviving mass of his men.
Many of them bore signs of the past battle in the forms of puckered scars or missing limbs, it was a disgrace!
Most of his men had to crawl to the shadowpriests and beg to be healed, BEG! Something a true shadowknight in his life would never do, and wouldn’t have to do if it weren’t for that pig of a man who dared call himself leader of the shadowpriests!
It had been humiliating to see the shadowpriests gloat and relish in the fact that men of power like his shadowknights had to come to them to be healed, and then to ask them to beg for it! That went too far.
Disgusted Kheldar spat on the floor, two of his men jumped at the unexpected waddle of phlegm that hit the grounds, growling Kheldar stormed over to them, stopping an inch away from their faces “Are you afraid?” he hissed, his eyes glowing a dark red as he conjured a wad of blackness into his palm and held it close to the two men.
“No sir!” they replied strongly in unison, tilting his head Kheldar eyed the two men “would you run from battle?” he whispered as he slithered around his men who had to suppress the urge to shudder from their creepy leader “You will accompany me now when I go see Kenras about his ridiculous abuse of power”
He turned on his heel and walked briskly out of the training room while muttering to himself “he shouldn’t be able to boss us around so easily” his mind slipping back to the note he had received the night before through pigeon where he was ordered point blank to be present at some boring speech, like he didn’t have any more important tasks to complete.
Grumbling Kheldar and his two other Shadowknights made their way to the chamber where it would be taking place.

The Master spent most of his nights awake, he simply couldn’t sleep after the passed battle, he took some small catnaps but other than that he was surviving on barely any sleep, it therefore was no surprise when the pidgeon landed on his windowsill and stretched out his leg carrying the note from the Shadowpriest.
The master of assassins picked up the bird gently, stroking it as it crooned in pleasure before untying its burden from its leg and releasing it to return from where it came.
He read the message carefully, he was to report to the ducal palace in the morning, only a few hours away and then attend a meeting later that night.
Pushing his sore old body from the chair he had been sitting in he prepared himself for the meeting that morning, pulling on his robe as well as his cloak he began to walk the streets of Fort Revenald, seeing the destructing path that he and his fellow Shadowcloaks had left, with a little help of the red clad rebels of course.
When he arrived at the appointed place he saw Kheldar was already there accompanied by Isabelle, who they hadn’t heard from at all since the battle, she did seem a bit pale.
The Master studied his cohorts carefully, registering the nervous twitch of Kenras as the self proclaimed king of Fort Revenald began his speech.
he watched with mild fascination how the crowd reacted, screams of discontent rang through the streets and were just as easily stopped as the presence of the red clad new enforcers of the law intimidated the rowdy crowd.
The Master smirked, everything was going all just fine.

[xaen]

Isabelle stoically glanced out over the crowd from her standing position in between Kenras and Kheldar, gingerly shifting from foot to foot.
She wasn’t fidgeting from any source of pain, but rather from an anxiety caused by the miraculous restoration of her legs.
When she had awoken that morning, Kenras was pacing back and forth at the foot of the bed she had slept in; if Isabelle didn’t know better she could have sworn that he was worried and terrified by something.
Isabelle had asked him how she had gotten there, but he refused to say a word beyond that she was required to join him and the others for Marvic’s speech and for a meeting that evening.
Even now standing next to her, Kenras was still showing signs that he was nervous underneath his normal aura of arrogance as the public speech was drawing to a close.
A brief riot started and was quickly broken up by the presence of the Shadowknights integrated amongst the crowd, during which Isabelle gently rubbed the fresh pink patches of healed skin on her knees where her shin bones had ripped through when she hit the cobblestone road from fifty feet in the air.
Like all of her injuries, the wounds were perfectly healed in less than a day and covered with a fresh layer of pinkish skin; though she found that her limbs felt stiff and slightly sore.
As far as Isabelle knew such a flawless heal could only be done through powerful magic, and that sort of healing magic was beyond the reaches of all of the Shadowpriests; even the lofty reach of Kenras, who was in the most highest of Kassisleks favor.
The rather weak shouted pledge of allegiance from the crowd pulled Isabelle’s attention back to them as they dispersed when “King” Marvic Mraen ordered them to, she waited until the other Leaders left before she left to find where her remaining magae went and to get ready for the meeting tonight in the Shadowcloak warehouse.

Ivan anxiously ran his hands through his hair as he paced next to cot that held Cyrteris’ comatose body; an hour had passed since he had last seen the Duke and he looked even worse for wear.
Cyrteris’ skin seemed stretched beyond its limit, his eyes were sunken, a cold sweat drenched his skin, and his breathing was heavy and strained; the healer had informed Ivan when he had arrived that he and the other healers still could not identify the problem.
Ivan watched as one of the healers’ gently dabbed a cool wet cloth across Cyrteris’ forehead as the Duke twitched from the internal agony of whatever was ravaging his body.
The old ranger soon couldn’t stand seeing Cyrteris in such a state, and walked away like a man destined for the gallows as he tried to distract his worried mind.
Ivan had moved the peacekeeper camp near to the river as ordered by Cyrteris two hours ago, and the camp was nearly empty except for the healers and a few guards; the rest were out gathering food and fuel for the fires with the officers and the Rue twins.
The old ranger wandered idly around the camp for a full twenty before he spotted Vlan’Tur and three other peacekeepers exiting the forest and marching towards him with triumphant smiles spread across their faces; for Vlan’Tur was carrying four large white-tailed deer across his powerful shoulders, though he was slightly shaking from the strain.

Vlan’Tur was surprised that he and his three men were the first ones back from their hour long hunting trip in the Adbyrron forest.
Ivan was watching them with a despairing looking on his face, and not far from him the dozen healers were still rushing about Cyrteris’ cot; shouting and arguing amongst themselves as they tried desperately to find a cure for his illness.
Vlan’Tur was probably the only one who had not yet seen the current state of the Duke, mainly because he didn’t feel right approaching Cyrteris since he was a foreigner and hadn’t known the beloved Duke for very long before the rebellion.
Grunting from the effort, he shifted one of the deer carcasses when its hooves started to poke painfully into his back as he followed behind the three peacekeepers who had gone hunting with him.
The three peacekeepers chattered excitedly amongst themselves about how strong Vlan’Tur was and the experience of their first ever hunting trip, but Vlan’Tur ignored them and moved on to where Ivan and the remaining Captains had designated as the spot to leave their findings.
Upon dropping his payload, Vlan’Tur sighed in relief as he stretched out the stiffness in his strong back while he paced in a small circle before straightening out his path and heading off towards the river.
Soon he was standing on the eastern bank of the nameless river that flowed through the Adbyrron forest, staring into the cool crystal clear water that gargled through some large rock sticking out of the waters’ surface not very far downstream from him.

Marvic was fuming with anger as he completed dozens of minor memoirs and financial documents, under the watchful gazes of the seven Shadowcloaks spread about the chamber.
Kenras and his goons watched him like hawks all day long since his morning speech, and every time he had any conferences with his new city officials; they had even gone as far as to force him to order the construction of a temple dedicated to Kassislek and to evict several noble family’s from their estates, so that the Shadowknights, Society of Assassins, and Shadowmages can use the buildings as barracks, a base of operations, and training grounds.
Not only that, Kenras demanded that Marvic make his new city guard that he had christened, the Vigil Guard, to chase the other clergies and religions from the city or to eradicate them; Marvic chose the latter of the two, since he wanted no more bloodshed.
When Marvic was recruiting earlier that afternoon only his own rebels and the city’s lowlifes answered his call, thereby making yet another problem for himself since this unstable gathering of murders no doubt easier for Kenras to corrupt and control.
In less than one day since his reign began, everywhere King Marvic looked yet another power or right was taken away from him or his people by the Shadowcloaks that quickly integrated their people into everything in the city.
When Marvic had created a new city council that morning, seven other people aside from Rasvin, Melissa, and Kylek showed up and Marvic knew that three of them were Shadowcloaks.
King Marvic put down his writing quill and rose from his desk, gently massaging his temples as he shuffled towards the window.
Angrily he watched the sun set with his hands firmly planted on the windowsill, grinding his teeth when looked down into the courtyard and saw the Shadowcloaks patrolling the walls.
Then suddenly to Marvic’s surprise, Kenras and a lithe woman slink across the yard and through the front gates both dressed head to toe in black leathers.
”You! Bring me Lady Melissa!” King Mraen commanded of one of the stewards that stood stoically off to the side, the man nodded and sprinted from the room and returned a few minute later with Lady Melissa.
Marvic warily glanced at the Shadowcloaks in the room as he waved for Melissa to come closer, the lady obliged with a quick, “What’s wrong M’lord?”
Wrapping a conspiratorial arm around Melissa’s shoulders, and he whispering into Melissa‘s ear as he pulled her close, “That snake Kenras just left with that woman from the speech this morning, I want you to personally tail the pair.”
Melissa nodded and turned to leave, and added for the Shadowcloaks benefit said, “Yes sir, I will get the Vigil Guard to watch Rasvin’s compound. For I also believe that he plans treachery.”
Marvic knew that he could trust in Melissa, since the young lady didn’t like the presence of the Shadowcloaks anymore than he did.
The new King returned to the window a few minutes later, and managed to spot Melissa dressed in black leathers of her own slip over the Gate wall; he would have to wait for her return tomorrow morning.

Kenras continuously peeked over his shoulder as he and Isabelle twisted their way through the city streets, trying to make sure that they were not being followed; Isabelle of course found the excessive glances irritating and repeatedly told him so, but he just ignored her bitching as he scanned the roof tops and forced her along the most round about path to the warehouse.
When they finally arrived, Isabelle plowed right into the building leaving Kenras outside to nervously glance about before following her inside.
The Master and Kheldar had already arrived and were deep in conversation when Isabelle barged in with Kenras on her heels, the Shadowpriest carefully closing the door behind him before moving across the room to the candle lit table where the others had seat themselves.

“Kenras, what is all of this about?” Isabelle demanded of the flustered looking priest as his eyes darted from shadow to shadow that was just outside the reach of the candles, but Kenras refused to provide an answer and continued to jerk about in search of someone or something.

Melissa Thekwis, the owner of The Three Talon Mercenary Company, tailed Kenras and his companion all along the priest’s winding trail through the city to a derelict warehouse.
Melissa ducked behind corners whenever the priest check behind him searching for pursuers, soon though he became so paranoid that it she was forced to ascend to the rooftops to avoid detection from the Shadowpriest sharp glances over his shoulders.
Even on the roofs, Melissa was forced to duck behind chimneys and ledges from time to time when Kenras started to check the roofs as if he could sense her presence.
Eventually they led her to the warehouse, and once they had gone inside she stealthily leaped onto the building’s roof and found a way down to the rafters above the table; to get to the rafters was an adventure she would never want to repeat to another living soul.
As silent as a mouse, Melissa stared down at the four Shadowcloaks that sat around a candle lit table quietly staring at each when the woman demanded the reason behind the secretive meeting.
No answer was given and an eerie silence descended upon the four Shadowcloaks for a full ten minutes, forcing a bored Melissa to mumble softly, “What the hell are they waiting for?”
“Me,” An evil voice breathed into her ear suddenly and when she attempted to scream in surprise, she discovered that she had no throat left to which to scream with.
Gargling softly Melissa’s vision faded as she slowly rolled herself onto her back, and came face to face with a pair of glowing purple eyes in a deep black hood before she passed from this world.

The light from the candles suddenly began to grow weak and the shadows in the warehouse seemed to thick before Kenras’ eyes, as a soft gurgling sound of water echoed from seemingly nowhere in the warehouse.
Isabelle’s eyes widened as the candles’ light continued to shrink before stopping leaving just enough light to see each other’s shadowed faces, the effect making them appear menacing and sinister to one another.
Kheldar’s eyes warily darted all over the place as he placed a cautious hand onto the hilt of his weapon, even the Master seemed nervous cause his fingers drummed against the table in an irritating fashion.

“I am pleased that you all could make it,” A voice cooed from the darkness that enveloped the chamber making all four of the fearless Shadowcloak leaders jump up from their seats and draw weapons.
The voice laughed manically from every shadow in the warehouse, causing the four leaders to spin about in every direction as they scanned the darkness.
“Put those away before someone else gets hurt,” The voice firmly warned them with a hint of mirth from everywhere, Isabelle the most curious of the four sharply screamed at the shadows, “What the in the abyss do you mean by someone else?”
In answer a black mass came hurdling through the air towards Kheldar, who rolled out of the way in the nick of time.
The object landed on the table with a heavy bounce causing the others to hastily back away from it with weapons held defensively before them.

Kenras was the first to sheath his weapon once he saw what the object was that came flying at them from nowhere, it was the body of Melissa Thekwis, one of Marvic’s rebel leaders with her throat ripped apart by what appeared to be claw marks?
“M’lord?” Kenras cautiously asked the shadows as he moved back towards the table, the darkness laughed again and a pair of violet eyes appeared behind the Master to provide direction for the voice.

“Who else fool,” The Shadowlord chastised as he allowed the candle light to expand so it only slightly revealed him and covered him with partial blobs of shadow that made him appear even more frightening.
“I have come to express my feelings of gratitude for your successful takeover of this city. Especially since I have been long out of contact with this branch and the one in Rash Vok. It pleases me to know that suitable leaders are watching over things in this region of the world,” The Shadowlord commented as he circled around the table, staying just on the rim of candle light.
“Now that you have captured this city. I want you to first finish off the leaderless band of peacekeepers, Marvic’s brother escaped with. And then I want you to destroy the Vorshtaran force in the Ildera Forest. Then eventually I want you to conquer the rest of Erumara,” The Shadowlord added without allowing any of them to make a comment, he stopped and glanced at Isabelle, “It’s good to see that the Kassislek allowed his power to revive you.”
With that the eyes suddenly vanished and the shadows retracted allowing the candles to produce their natural light, and like that the Shadowlord was gone.


That night Vlan’Tur managed to bring himself to see Cyrteris’, and slowly he trudged across the camp to where the Duke was being looked after.
Clover was the only one next to him, since the healers had long ago given up on trying to find a cure for the Duke’s ailment.
Silently Vlan’Tur stood behind Clover and stared at Cyrteris who wheezed feebly in his cot, he stood there for a full five minutes before forcing himself to move closer; when he had, and he wished he had gone to see Cyrteris sooner.
“He’s been poisoned!!” Vlan’Tur roared in shock startling Clover and causing Ivan to come running.

“What’s going on!?!” Ivan demanded as he closed the distance in a short sprint, as Vlan’Tur kneeled down next to Cyrteris’ cot without replying.
“Did you say he was poisoned?” Ivan quizzically asked as Vlan’Tur continued to ignore him, while he checked the Duke’s fever, pulse and breathing.

“He has ingested the venom of a Sessilian Brown-tail lizard,” Vlan’Tur stated flatly as if to explain everything in that short sentence, Ivan shared a confused look with Clover before inching closer to Vlan’Tur; for the Vorshtaran suddenly held a glass vial and was carefully collecting some of the white foam from Cyrteris’ mouth.
“If we mix this with crushed clovers, yeast and oak bark, we can slow the poison. Thereby buying us enough time to retrieve the antidote,” Vlan’Tur rambled off as he raised the vial of tainted saliva above his head for the others to see.

“Whoa! Slow down! What the devil is a Sessilian Brown-tail lizard and how could Cyrteris have ingested such a toxin?” Ivan forcibly demanded as he shook his head side to side in confusion as he stared hopefully at the vial of saliva.

Vlan’Tur called a healer over and handed the vial to the man, and told him how to make the anti-toxin that would momentarily stabilize Cyrteris; sighing Vlan’Tur turned back to Ivan and took in a deep breath before explaining slowly, “The Sessilian Brown-tail is a lizard native to the Vorshtar Plains, when threatened it excretes a clear, tasteless, odorless ooze onto its skin that is only poisonous to most of its natural predators, but to humans it is naturally harmless. Though when combined with wheat this substance becomes toxic to humans. “

Ivan absorbed the information with a stern expression plastered to his face as he thought on what he had just learned before asking, “But how could Cyrteris have become poisoned?”

Vlan’Tur shrugged as the healers hastily created the anti-toxin to the Vorshtaran’s specifications, making a contemplating look on his face when he answered, “Perhaps he ate some bread and drank what he assumed was water when it was in fact the Sessilian ooze, or the toxin was preemptively prepared and administered through a blade or an arrow.”

“Well where can we find this cure, you spoke of before?” The ranger inquired, excitement leaking into his voice as this slim hope provided a possibility to save Cyrteris.

“My people carry this cure in the event of accidental poisoning, I suggest that I return to my peoples’ camp and retrieve a vial for the Duke,” The Plainsman informed them looking incredibly confident with the possibility that he could get one from Xaxistics.

“Excellent, but you will not be going alone. Cam will with go with you to insure your safe return. I suggest you depart tomorrow morning, and Clover could go brief your brother,” Ivan commanded firmly with a friendly look on his face, though he fooled no one that he wasn’t sending Cam just to ensure that the Vorshtaran actually did as he promised.

[Culmir]

The Master kept a wary eye on lady Isabelle as she seemed to fidget uncomfortably, the black clad master of assassins frowned hidden in the cowl of his hood, he kept his observance unnoticed as he angled his face towards the amassed crowd before them all.
Yet he kept a close eye on both Kenras and the shadowmage, as both of them seemed to be in some form of distress, though quite skilfully trying to hide it, and they would of succeeded if the Master hadn’t been trained well by his former master to notice such subtle differences.
He noticed for example the slight sheen of sweat covering the brow of Kenras as well as the nervous twitch that seemed to happen to Isabelle when she was caught unawares.
The Master listened with half an ear to the speech being made and shuffled off slowly and leisurely when they were dismissed from the meeting, he had a lot to ponder before the meeting later that day.

Kheldar grumbled to himself as they were dismissed only to be told later on by an emissary sent to him that he was to report to the Shadowcloak compound later for a meeting, like he didn’t have better things to do?
No one seemed to understand that Silk was in charge of getting this city under control and having it stay there, he had already had to dispatch some of his most loyal Shadowknights to squash a meeting that was supposedly taking place in the old merchants storehouse.
Word had reached him through one of the Masters assassins that already people were plotting to overthrow the current line of control in Fort Revenald, and there was even talk of attempting to rush the walls and escape to join the Duke wherever he was hiding.
Every day Kheldar received more information from The Master and he was grateful for the steady flow of info that he gathered from his own informers, but the piles and piles of reports waiting for him continued to grow and he never really found the time to sort through them.
When he was told he would become the leader of the Shadowknights he certainly didn’t think that it meant him becoming a desk tied clerk that sorted through stacks of paper all day, he expected to be at the front line of battle and charging through their enemies while screaming praise to his lord Kassilek!
Certainly didn’t turn out to be this way he thought grumpily as he walked off to the special rooms assigned to him in the barracks as he sorted through some papers before he had to go to this damned meeting.

Clover remained hovering close to Cyteris’s location, though she had been told repeatedly to go away by different higher ranking people than her, at some point Cam had come over and forcibly removed his sister out of the way, as some doctors became unnerved by the hateful glares she was sending their way.
In the end Cam had to plop his sister down by Poledra’s cooking fire not far from the tent, he seated his twin sister in direct line of sight of the tent, but not close enough to overhear the talk of the doctors as they discussed possible solutions for the unknown ailment plaguing Cyrteris.
“Don’t worry, she’ll snap out of it once they figure out what’s wrong with him” Poledra spoke soothingly to Cam as he watched his sister, whose gaze never wavered from the tent and the scurrying doctors.
Cam sighed, running his hand through his hair, scratching his head casually “I don’t know, I’ve never seen her act like this, except for that one time when they had to kill off a sick child in the institute, but she knew he was going to die” he spoke dispassionately, staring into Poledra’s cooking fire.
“Women respond differently to sickness you know” Poledra spoke once more as she stirred the big pot resting atop the fire, some kind of watered down stew brewing inside, it lacked the proper filling to be an actual stew.
“I hope those men bring back some meat” Poledra said thoughtfully as she ladled some stew up and dropped it back into the pot with a loud splash “this just won’t do to feed all of these people” she sighed.
“Don’t suppose you could go out and see if they’re back yet hm?” she asked Cam, with a slight twinkle in her tawny eyes.
Cam looked up at Poledra, nodding absently “Sure I can do that” he said as he pushed off the log he was sitting on, lethargic as he stared at his twin sister intently again “you keep an eye on her for me okay?” he asked.
“Of course sweetheart” Poledra smiled as she stirred her soupy stew slowly.

Cam didn’t have to look far, he was only a few feet away from Poledra’s cooking fire when Vlan’Tur and several other men walked into the clearing from the woods, laden with large deer, which they dumped close to the cooking fires roaring among the camp.
Cam gave up his quest looking for the men that brought the meat and he found his feet walking towards the woods, sitting down against a tree just outside of the camp.
He figured he needed some time to clear things in his head, not that much was going on around it to begin with.

The Master swiftly made his way from his house to the warehouse where they were supposed to meet up, he was slightly surprised that he was the first one to arrive but it didn’t bother him much, it gave him the much needed time to prepare for this meeting.
He had to leave his help at home as this meeting was supposed to be completely private as per his orders, he slung the bag he carried across his back onto the table and began to unload his sheafs of papers and the small clay tablet and writing utensils in case they required some kind of answer from him.
It didn’t take long for Kheldar to arrive, the man seemed tired as he slouched into a chair besides the Master of assassins.
Frowning in his cowl The Master grabbed his slab and wrote “what is wrong Kheldar, are you ill?” and showed it to the large half drow half elf

Kheldar barked out a laugh when he read the sign presented to him upon his arrival to the warehouse, he wasn’t at all surprised to see the aging Master of Assassins already present, somehow that man seemed to be on top of everything “No I’m fine” she replied as a small smirk twitched at the corners of his mouth “it’s those blasted papers that keep me occupied so much during the day I hardly have any time to train with my men” he grumbled as he glanced around the warehouse, noticing Isabelle and Kenras entering the building.

The Master acknowledged his fellow Shadowcloaks with a polite nod of his head before scribbling onto his board “you should find someone you trust to read them for you and make a short list of the important bits, it’s what I do” he showed the slab to the Shadowknight before wiping it clean and writing another message “I know who you could use if you are weary of letting other people read those messages” he showed that to Kheldar who nodded slowly in response.
The Master wiped the slate clean “I will make it so” he wrote slowly, showing it and then turning his attention to Isabelle and Kenras.

Kheldar was surprised, he wouldn’t of figured the Master was a kind and giving person to share information like this, but they were part of the same constitution so any help he could provide would ultimately be in service to their deity and lord Kassilek, whom they all served.
The light suddenly dimmed in the room and Kheldar placed his hand suspiciously on the hilt of his longsword as his glowing eyes scanned the darkening room.
As a voice echoed through the room Kheldar unsheathed his sword, whirling around to pinpoint its location.
Isabelle’s words sounded feeble in the empty warehouse, if it weren’t for the sense of danger approaching as well as the sound of air being displaced Kheldar would of been impaled, fortunately he leaped out of the way in time.

The Master glanced around curiously, drumming his fingers subconsciously on the table rop in a small nervous twitch as he wondered what exactly was happening to their warehouse meeting.
the voice uttered in darkness made the Master of assassins leap from his chair in surprising speed and agility, several knives appearing in his nimble hands as if by magic as he whirled around.
The Master recovered after Kenras, stuffing his knives back into their hidden sheaths all over his body as he listened to the dark voice of his deity as he expressed his pleasure with his servants, The Master couldn’t feel better at this point as a large smile spread across his face.

Night had fallen and Clover sat silently at Poledra’s cooking fire, listening to them all talk around her, like everything was fine, well they were wrong, everything was horrible! Their leader was ill and no one bloody knew what from! How could anyone sit around this fire doing nothing as Cyrteris could possibly be lying in that tent writhing in agony and maybe even dying, why wasn’t anyone doing anything!
It was so frustrating and Clover stood up rapidly from the log her brother had dumped her on, ready to march over to that tent and yell a very impressive string of profanities at the doctors until they fixed whatever was wrong with Cyteris.
As she was about to take the first step Poledra stepped in front of her “Oh no you don’t sweetheart” she spoke quietly, pushing Clover back down onto the log as Clovers eyes burned a dark grey at the matron chef, her eyebrows high on her head in defiance as she locked gazes with the woman.
Tawny gold versus steel grey until Clover finally relented and looked away “What” she snapped harshly.
“Listen sweetheart” Poledra started as she puddle a large amount of venison stew into a wooden carved bowl and passed it to Clover “there’s nothing that you can do, else you would be out there doing it, if anyone could do anything they would be doing it, you know that” Poledra stared at Clover as she opened her mouth to reply, but was struck dumb at the truth of the words, she had been so angry at everyone sitting around doing nothing when she in fact had been doing exactly the same!
“Now eat your stew, then you can go see Cyteris and relieve that poor doctor that has been wiping his face all day, send him over here so he can eat too, and if you see Vlan’Tur or any of those other hunters tell them thanks, as they supplied the deer for this food you’re getting do you hear me” Poledra eyed Clover sternly until she nodded subdued.
“Sorry” Clover muttered making Poledra snort “You ought to tell your brother that, he’s been fussing over you like a mother hen” she snorted again and returned to tending her stew.
Clover ate her stew in silence, pondering what Poledra had said to her, of course the woman was right, and she owed a lot of people an apology, including her brother.
Getting up from the log Clover made her way over to the make shift tent under which Cyteris was lying, most of the doctors having cleared the area after a lot of attempts to cure him.
“Go eat something” Clover spoke to the startled man who was tending to Cyrteris “I’ll watch him for a while” she smiled apologetically as he eyed her warily still.
It took a couple of seconds but in the end the man relented and left the tent, leaving Clover alone with Cyrteris “Hi” she said softly to him as she removed the warm and damp cloth off his forehead, dipping it into the cold water sitting beside the cot, she wrung it out before placing it onto his head again “I don’t know if you can hear me, but you have to keep fighting this you hear” she paused “we’re going to find a way to heal you, all you have to do is fight till we do” she whispered.
After a couple of minutes of sitting by Cyteris in silence Clover looked up to see Vlan’Tur enter the enclosing, she watched how the large plainsman had to make himself move closer to the duke, she couldn’t blame him, he didn’t look good.
She wiped Cyteris’s face with a cold cloth again as she dropped it startled when a large bellow filled the area, she stared wide eyed at Vlan’Tur and what he had said, immediately Ivan showed up from the commotion.
Clover sat in a stunned silence as thoughts flew through her head, poisoned? Who could of done that?
Closer stared at Ivan who seemed as confused as she was, she was glad Ivan asked all the questions as her tongue seemed to be knotted in her mouth.
Nodding Clover scurried off immediately to find her brother, she found him standing just outside but out of hearing range a worried expression on his face, he eyed his sister wearily “what’s wrong?” he asked.
Smiling widely Clover threw her arms around her brother “Oh he can be cured!” she gushed “Vlan’Tur knew what was wrong with him and he knows where he can get a cure, you have to go with him by the way” she smiled as she still hugged her brother.
Dumbfounded Cam returned the hug awkwardly “okay, so Vlan’Tur and I are to go somewhere and bring back a cure?” he asked slowly, to make sure he understood exactly what he was being told.
Clover nodded her head vigorously “yes, you leave tomorrow morning so you better get some sleep and be prepared!” she dashed off wildly, Cam assumed probably to fetch him some supplies she thought they might need.
It didn’t take much to make his twin sister happy, just a magical cure from a plainsman, he thought cheerfully.