[centre][img]https://i.imgur.com/TiC9fEF.png[/img] [h2]Prisoners of War[/h2] [/centre] [hr] [i]Twenty-six years after Antiquity...[/i] “Come on, you brats, hurry up! Night’s already upon us and the trek’s long still!” thundered the spearman through a beard so thick that it could’ve been a mask. Before him, he shepherded a train of everything from young children to young adults, all bound together at the hands by a long length of rope. They had been walking from a rebelling village in the centre of the Lowlands, the first region seized by the Dûnans after they took Gleann over Risenberg - it was the second day of their march now. Up ahead, the front guard had already lit fires and set up camp. One of the captives was already ragged, having long unkempt hair and appeared malnourished. He was clearly impoverished by chance before the war had started. He appeared young, though it was also hard to tell his exact age due to him being small from hunger. He was constantly muttering something just under his breath. The spearman frowned, his torch casting long, crass shadows across his mean face. He stomped over and grabbed the youngster by the shoulder. “Hey, be quiet! You’ll say nothing before the archdruids allow you to speak, is that clear?” His eyes were glazed over, he barely seemed to comprehend that he was grabbed or that someone was speaking to him, but his eyes suddenly widened and he whimpered, “Where is the moon.” his eyes pointed directly at it in full view. The guard followed his gaze in bafflement. “What do you mean, it’s right there? Oh, by… Torrsten, I think we’ve caught someone blind.” “Well, what did you expect?! We didn’t kill him on the battlefield! Must’a been left behind!” came a distant yell from over by the camp, followed by mocking laughter. The spearman shrunk a bit and blushed before shoving the young man onwards. “Keep moving!” The captive still didn’t seem to comprehend what was happening around him, and sputtered out, “He is watching. No, they are watching.” The spearman growled and grabbed the boy by the neck of his rags. “Hey, I told you to--” He was silenced by a large hand clasping his shoulder. It was one of the other guards, his expression a condescending smirk. “Ian, give it a rest - what harm is he doing by talking?” said the guard. The spearman spat and shrugged off the hand. However, as he did, the ground felt uneven to him, or so it seemed, anyway, for the man stumbled and fell to the ground. The others looked bepuzzled for a moment before breaking out into a guffaw. The guard smacked his hand to his forehead. “By the gods, man, can’t you even stand?! What’s going on with you toni--woah!” The spearman pushed the guard away in a rage and, with effort, rose back to his feet. “I will -not- be made a fool out of!” His eyes fixed back on the young lad and he unsheathed a copper dagger. “If you won’t shut up, I’ll make an example of you.” The other guards closed in around him. “Alright, Ian, that’s enough-- hey!” As they neared him, he spun around, jabbing at the air between them. “Stay away! This bastard had it coming! No one ignores Ian’s orders - no one!” The vagrant stated, “Death is a wonderful host, but terrible guest. You have invited it in.” Ian snapped and grabbed the boy’s chin. He turned to face the others, pointing his dagger at them with a knowing look. “This is what happens when you defy Ian - what you get for laughing at me!” With that, he forced his fingers into the boy’s mouth, grabbed at his tongue and brought the blade to slice it off. However, the second the metal touched flesh, it dissolved in Ian’s hands, becoming ash on the wind. No, not ash - dust. Ian recoiled, as did all the other guards. The spearman looked at his hands in disbelief. “W-what?” “... It’s a bloody sorcerer…” whispered one of the other guards, picked up his spear and stabbed it at the boy. However, the jab, somehow, completely missed its mark despite the proximity. In trying to correct this mistake, the guard instead swung horizontally, aiming to slice at the boy’s shoulder. Once more, the second the metal came into contact with his flesh, it became dust. They cowered and exchanged looks of fear. “D-demon!” The vagrant glazed and confused eyes finally met Ian’s, he softly stated, “Do you not remember Scahach’ scolding about your ego?” Ian, whose hyperventilation only seemed to egg his panic on, then let out a war cry, lifted both his hands into the air and brought them down on the boy’s head. However, as the fists connected with his skin, they broke, as though the bones inside had been made of glass. The man screamed as bones protruded through skin twisted in all manner of unnatural directions. The onlookers once more cowered or vomited at the sight. The other prisoners stared on with a mixture of terror and morbid curiousity. A voice called out to Ian from the boy's form, but his lips did not move nor was his voice, "It is shame. Scahach' prayers for you to return unharmed could not be answered." Ian looked up with tears in his eyes. “Wh-wha? What in--... Oh, gods, it hurts! How,” he sucked in a desperate, pained breath, “how do you know of, of my Scah?!” Efforts to move his hands only exasperated the pain. The boy was quiet. His eyes were no longer glazed over, but still appeared unhealthy dim. He was facing right at Ian and didn’t seem to react to gruesome sight, but still seemed unnerved by the sound of his pain, flinching whenever his arms made sudden unnatural noises. The guard who had laughed at Ian before drew his own dagger. “By the gods, Lars, didn’t you see what just happened?!” came a concerned squeal behind him. The guard Lars bit his teeth together and, with a hard grip, snatched the rope holding the prisoners together. He sliced over the knots, and soon, the whole chain came loose. “I ain’t bringing that cursed child into my city - I ain’t bringing any of these.” He reluctantly looked down at the boy. “You’re free, kid. Go! Go back and be with your demonic ilk!” He tried to push him, but looked down at Ian’s hands again and decided against it, pulling his fist back towards his chest. Many of the other children and young adults started running back the way they had come. The vagrant kid paused briefly, before starting to run away in the wrong direction. Lars shouted, “HEY! Go home, I said!” But none dared give chase, for fear of ending up like Ian. They knelt down around him and started to inspect whether there was anything they could do. [hr] [colour=lightblue]”Oh, sister, what have I missed over here… Hey, thanks for catching that kid, Sirius. I wouldn’t have known anything was up if he hadn’t asked for the moon.”[/colour] Gibbou rolled her shoulders so her chainmail rustled quietly. The two of them stood side by side in Antiquity, gazing at the world below. “I have been concerned about Ha-Dûna for some time now, but he was the one who drew my attention. It seems rare for someone as talented as him to awaken, it is a shame what that cost him.” Sirius replied. The moon goddess sighed. [colour=lightblue]”The Dûnans are… Okay, there’s no way around this. They’ve gone completely off the rails. I’m just glad I managed to get that spell going before that guy could hurt your… What is it you called them again? Ogres?”[/colour] “Augurs. And if it was not for your intervention, I would have stopped him. However I would not have been so kind.” [colour=lightblue]”He was far from innocent, that man, but…”[/colour] She crossed her arms over her breastplate. [colour=lightblue]”I’d rather not the Dûnans grow even more accustomed to death than they already have. I’ll let that spell linger for a while, hope that at least stops their wanton killing of the civilians. Ugh, like, why do they do this anyway? I mean, I get that, sure, they want more land to feed that crazy fast growing population, and more land to settle on, and more land to rule and stuff… But, like, c’mon! Do they have to be so gung-ho about it? I dunno, what do you think?”[/colour] “... Perhaps it is because wolves are leading the flock.” Gibbou frowned. [colour=lightblue]”You’re talking about the archdruids, aren’t you?”[/colour] “Not all of them.” Gibbou squinted and punched her fist into her palm with a metallic clang. [colour=lightblue]”Got a name for me, brother? If someone’s ordering the butchering of innocents, I’d have to send them a strong worded letter. Yeah, a strongly worded letter that is a gruesome sleep schedule… Or something.”[/colour] “It is rarely one person is it? … It is a shame that people of Ha-Duna could be so easily fooled. Unlike us, they can be lied to by other mortals and sometimes it is foolish to disbelieve the powerful even when they are untruthful.” [colour=lightblue]”I just don’t understand - why are they so insistent on killing and imprisoning everyone? What did their neighbours do to them? The wars in this area are pretty recent, right?”[/colour] She gave a hum and counter the number of years that had passed to herself. [colour=lightblue]”Yeah, pretty recently. You been paying attention much? Know their reasons?”[/colour] “Necessity is a cruel mistress. They were compelled to indulge, and now their greed has overtaken them. … I guess apart of it is that they are deceived by their own perceptions, being so far from the battlefield.” Gibbou pulled her helmet off and rubbed her temples. [colour=lightblue]”Oi… Alright, I’ll need some time to thing about what to do here. You got any plans? Sirius?”[/colour] Gibbou looked around, but it seemed as though the star god had vanished into thin air. She pouted and rolled her eyes. [colour=lightblue]”Okay, fine… Be like that…”[/colour] Then she stomped her way back to her portal to observe some more from the comfort of her home. [hider=Sumsum!] Dûnan POW convoy strolling down the hill when, suddenly, it turns out one of the kids in it is an augur whispering shit! One of the guards gets pissy about him whispering shit, so the augur starts whispering more shit! This pisses the guard off, so some of his co-guards come to calm him down. He won’t calm down, though, and threatens to cut out the kid’s tongue. However, as he tries to cut it, Gibbou turns his knife and all other Dûnan weapons that try to harm innocents to dust. The Dûnans think the shit talker is a demon and get super scared. The pissy guard tries to whack him with his fists, but, surprise-surprise, his the bones in his hands break like glass. The augur starts shit talking his wife and the POWs are released into freedom. Gibs and Sirius then have a chat about how shitty the whole situation is. They agree that it is shitty and decide to do something about it eventually. Sirius then disappears and leaves Gibbou alone to pout over how shitty everything is. Shit. [/hider] [hider=MP Sums!] Gibbou - 4MP/4DP 1DP - Curse (Protection): Curse Dûnans so that when their weapons or bodies strike at innocents with ill intent, they disintegrate into dust (if weapon) or shatter like glass (if body). End: 4MP/3DP. [/hider]