[center][h1][u]Lines in the Sand[/u][/h1][/center][hr][hr]
[hider=The Assassins][h1][color=0072bc][u]T R I S T E     [/u] _  _   _    _     _      _       _[/color][/h1]
[hider=The Owl][img]https://i.pinimg.com/564x/be/af/78/beaf78e80cbe29cf5db3ca8f322f4c66.jpg[/img][/hider]
The King's energy attack was clumsy and sophomoric. He had given in to his rage and now it controlled him. Yet, he was so massively powerful that one misstep on Triste's part would've resulted in certain death. He truly was a monster in the mold of Fradje Ironshaper himself. [color=0072bc][i]Perhaps,[/i][/color] she thought, [color=0072bc][i]Perhaps I can overcome him, but it is not [b]near [/b]worth the effort or the risk.[/i][/color] What was more, he came barrelling through the smoke and blinding light and struck her cleanly on the face. Triste's head snapped back and her world spun. Had she not sucked every bit of kinetic energy she could find up and deadened the blow's effect, it would've cleanly decapitated her. As it was, she saw stars and felt her mask shatter. The edges of her vision darkened. Training from years ago, from when she'd been a mere girl, kicked in and she cast an invisibility illusion on instinct alone. Her dead body crashed to the ground, head smashed to a pulp, and Horik roared in triumph. [b]"By Ironshaper, you are avenged, my people!"[/b] That was Veleno's work, of course. Sometimes it seemed like the Volto Certosa could read her very thoughts, so well coordinated were the two of them.

[color=0072bc][i]Good timing,[/i][/color] the assassin thought, but her heart filled with bitterness. Diavolo had not told her. He had given her no idea that Horik was this strong. She counseled herself that the goal of the mission was not to actually kill him. The goal had long since been achieved. Had she professional pride, it would've been pricked. As it was, she was only left with sadness at having been lied to again. Veleno, of course, was well out of harm's reach, so Triste wisely retreated, her goal having been reached. [color=0072bc][i]Until next time, your highness.[/i][/color] Next time, she would go in with full knowledge of what Horik Vinderborg of Oleften was. [i]Next time,[/i] she would kill him. Others looked around, confused at where she had gone, but they dared not try to pursue. Veleno's illusion had been for Horik's eyes only. Triste gathered as much energy as she needed and took off at a breakneck pace, before any of them decided to get brave. Let the seeds of war be sown. Let the fires burn. Let something new rise from their ashes.
[hr][hr]
[h1][color=8dc73f][u]V E L E N O     [/u] _  _   _    _     _      _       _[/color][/h1]
Long, nimble, and ghostly pale, Veleno's fingertips danced over the keys of the [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XcsfDxojdV8]harpsichord[/url]. The music flowed from them and she continued: to all the world, a tortured, passionate artist in trancelike ecstasy. Outside in the dark, cool night, lives were ending. Bodies were dropping to the ground, limbs twitching spastically and hands reaching vainly for the heavens, grasping for some final absolution from a quintet of nonexistent gods. Final, gasping breaths shuddered forth from desiccated lungs. That was some kilometers away, however. In the drawing room of President Yibozo's townhome was warmth and light. The newly-installed gas lanterns burned cheerily. Violinists and cellists swept expertly through their notes. The Jorubans, with their poetry and humanist philosophy, with their treatises and debates, with their frilly clothes and powdered wigs, had finally stopped prattling on about the separation of church and state, the equality of all men before the law, and movement of celestial bodies. Now, they lounged about on filigreed sofas, fanning themselves and drinking in earnest, the redness in their cheeks less visible than in people with lighter complexions, but nonetheless very much in evidence. Bourgeoisie that they were, they consumed wine as if the grape itself was going extinct. [color=8dc73f][i]Animals.[/i][/color] 

In truth, it was a great exertion for Veleno to be in two places at once like this. Were she nearly anybody else, feats of that magnitude would've been impossible, but such were her abilities with the Gift. [color=8dc73f][i]Were I anybody else, however, many other feats would not be so impossible,[/i][/color] she thought, striking the keys with a hard bitterness. [color=8dc73f][i]A God,[/i][/color] she consoled herself, [color=8dc73f][i]a dying God.[/i][/color] That Triste was in trouble she could plainly sense. So entranced were these fools by the music that they did not even notice the explosion as it happened. Veleno's heart thundered in her chest. She leaned into the next series of notes, sweat dripping from her brow, rendering her fingers slick and collecting between her skin and this device of agony known as a ball gown. Her friend was unharmed, however. Weaving the magic in and out through her music, over a distance that these frilled peons couldn't possibly fathom, she saw Triste's plan even before the assassin did, and followed through with it. [color=8dc73f][i]Objective met,[/i][/color] she told herself, finishing the piece with a flourish. Her chest was heaving with the exertion of it. She could feel the locks of hair pasted to her forehead by sweat, but nobody would see them. She remained, as ever, pristine. [color=8dc73f][i]Two masterpieces in synchronicity.[/i][/color] With some difficulty, Veleno backed away from the harpsichord and doubled over at the waist, bowing deeply and respectfully. 
[hr][hr]
[h1][color=003471][u]S O L D A T O     [/u] _  _   _    _     _      _       _[/color][/h1]
Soldato watched dispassionately from his perch some ways away, close to a fast-moving stream with its roaring kinetic energy. He should probably kill one of them, he decided. There had been two Volti dispatched to confront each king… [color=003471][i]except for Horik,[/i][/color] he mused. There, it had only been Triste. He was stuck with Ombra… or “Avrael”, as he called himself because he had to be unique. That ego case had done a whole lot of nothing. It was enough that there had been a fairly serious attempt on the life of King Rouis, he’d insisted. That was all that was needed to meet their objective. 

[color=003471][i]Light of Ahn-Shune,[/i][/color] the magusjaeger remarked inwardly as the girl who’d come to face him cast a spell. [color=003471][i]Flashy.[/i][/color] The problem was that you either closed your eyes or blinded yourself unless you knew what you were doing. She went for the first. [color=003471][i]Pop,[/i][/color] he thought boredly. [color=003471][i]Could’ve killed you right there.[/i][/color] His superior had ordered him to leave her unharmed, though. He watched as she used a water clone technique. Those were… not easy to master. He raised an eyebrow. [color=003471][i]Talented,[/i][/color] he decided, [color=003471][i]or else singular.[/i] [/color]

Soldato reached out with his chemical magic, close to maximum range, and planted the image in her head of a surge of energy from close to the fire and the echo of a gunshot from that direction. [color=003471][i]Come, little fishy. The worm is on the hook.[/i][/color]

Soldato’s chemical magic had the effects he desired on Eun-Ji. Still hidden behind the same tree, she sensed the surge of energy and heard the echo of gunshot. Her hand moved, intending to throw the dagger she had prepared; but then within a split second she noticed something… wrong. There was the surge of energy and the echo of gunshot, but she saw no projectile nor felt it hit her water clone. Her training and instinct kicked in, and she quickly remembered how Avrael had messed with her head with his chemical magic quite recently. And before that, the weird feeling as if someone wiped her memory during the opening ceremony… [color=87CEEB][i]...Chemical magic?...[/i][/color]

The gears in Eun-Ji’s mind moved very quickly. In the end, this was still a battle of tricks between two magi who relied on exactly that, tricks. She realized that her opponent was very powerful, significantly more than herself. But perhaps, she could at least attempt to outplay him. A risky gambit, but one she was willing to take. Thus, she manipulated her clone to make it fall to the ground as if hit by a gunshot while also quickly throwing her dagger at the bait to make it seemed like she had not realized what had happened. Then she prepared yet another dagger and imbued it with kinetic magic. Two daggers thrown and used so far, two left. She had to make these remaining two counts, and thus she watched intently with all her focus of what her opponent’s next move will be.

Soldato watched the water clone fall and he grinned ear-to-ear. There’d been no shot, of course. The fact that it had fallen showed that she was onto him. [color=003471][i]Marvelous sport![/i][/color] He thought. That he was not allowed to kill her was a shame. He felt like she’d at least make him work for it. Soldato stood all at once, knowing that he would seem to appear from nowhere. Yet, he also knew that he would seem to appear from seven different places. [color=003471][b]“Come, girl,”[/b][/color] he announced from seven mouths, [color=003471][b]“which one is the real me? Take your pick!”[/b][/color]

[color=87CEEB][i]... He caught on.[/i][/color] It wasn’t fully out of Eun-Ji’s expectation. With how skilled her opponent was, she had prepared for the possibility that it would take much more to trick him. His next move had been quite bothersome regardless; although it became clear to her that he was toying with her instead of seriously trying to kill her. She knew not the reason, and it didn’t matter to her. Eun-Ji’s eyes flitted from each copy of the enemy to the next, analyzing them as quickly as she could. [color=87CEEB][i]No obvious sign to discern which is the real one…[/i][/color] The course of action for her seemed pretty clear.

[color=003471][b]“Two in seven chance!”[/b][/color] one of the clones taunted, [color=003471][b]“come on! Step right up!”[/b][/color]

Eun-Ji didn’t even react to the taunting. Instead, while the one clone was taunting her, she drew in from the surrounding heat once more, using them to gather even more water into her clone. Then, she caused the gathered water to burst, pumping to all directions for just a single second. The objectives were simple; One, to see which, if any, of the copy was the real enemy. And two, to hopefully surprise the enemy and give her whatever small opening that was just enough for her to launch her dagger.

The water splashed through the clones imperfectly, soaking them, but in such a way that it was clear that the chemical magic in question was trying to adjust what she perceived. There was a split second of lag and Eun-Ji knew which was the real target: the one second from the right - the same one that had spoken. But then they all disappeared and there was a terrible, debilitating throbbing in her head. Her world swayed and it felt as if her brain was about to explode. 

During that split second of lag, Eun-Ji immediately moved to throw her dagger. It was the same moment that the clones all disappeared and the internal chemical magic affected her. The result was that the throw was just slightly imperfect, but she couldn’t really notice that as she fell to one knee from the overwhelming pain. This pain wasn’t exactly new, it was similar to whatever it was that Avrael had used to take her entire squad of five out in split seconds about a year back. Yet it was overwhelming regardless, and it nearly made her scream out, taking all her will, instinct, and training to resist doing so.

Regardless, she knew at that moment that the battle was pretty much over. She had no counter against this kind of attack, something she really needed to fix; if she survived what was to come as she was now in the mercy of her opponent.

The dagger whizzed by Soldato’s shoulder, still a bit too close for comfort, and he raised an eyebrow. Quickly, his features formed themselves into a sadistic grin, not that it would be visible behind his mask. [color=003471][b]“No magnetic magic,”[/b][/color] he observed, [color=003471][b]“huh?”[/b][/color] He shook his head and turned up the pressure a bit more, hoping to get a scream out of this one. [color=003471][b]“Big mistake. Big oversight. Mighty even get you killed sometime.”[/b][/color] He came to a stop right in front of her, tantalizingly close, employing a bit more chemical magic to give himself a sort of safety net. [color=003471][b]“You see, my partner for this mission - he thinks he’s my senior - said that I wasn’t supposed to kill you, but I don’t really care that much what he says, so…”[/b][/color]

He trailed off suddenly and went rigidly alert. He tried leaping backwards with a kinetic boost, but then the entire clearing seemed to light up with the fire of a thousand suns. A terrifying bolt of lightning, thicker than a tree trunk, scarred the ground and sent the assassin reeling. Dazed, he staggered backward and, seemingly out of nowhere, a massive log came hurtling from above to slam into him. Soldato dodged to the side, eating little more than a graze, but his new opponent was no mere trainee. Eun-Ji felt the pressure in her head start to ease as Zeno Lascand arrived on the scene, but then the log lifted itself from the ground and hurled itself at him. The Zeno employed all of his Binding skills to disintegrate it in midair and send a colossal, roiling fireball back at his target. 

Soldato was already gone, however, and where there had been one of him, there were now six. With a crack, the fireball split into six portions, each seeking out one of the clones but, too late, Eun-Ji and the Zeno realized that the actual assassin had hidden himself. A thunderous kinetic shove pummeled Zeno Lascand like a ragdoll, and he crashed into the river. Eun-Ji was well enough that she could stand but, just before she could start to mount any sort of counter-offensive, she felt it: energy signatures - hundreds of them, all over 7.00 and approaching rapidly.  

[color=003471][b]“Looks like the gods are on your side,”[/b][/color] Soldato taunted, as the Zeno burst from the river.  Hurriedly, he gathered a great deal of energy, pushed off, and rocketed away into the distance, still holding his rifle. Lascand’s lightning chased him until he was out of sight. [b]“Are you alright, girl?”[/b] he asked. [b]“That was brave of you. Foolish, but brave.”[/b]

Eun-Ji took a deep breath in, before slowly standing up fully. Her fourth and final dagger was gripped in her left hand, something she had done by reflex as soon as the pressure in her head eased off earlier on. She relaxed her grip and put the dagger back into the fold of her dress, taking a few seconds to recompose herself. Her expression had turned back to neutral even as sweat from the pain she felt earlier covered her face. She turned to address the Zeno, and after making sure she was once more stable, bowed politely at him. [color=87CEEB]”My gratitude for your aid, sir Zeno. And my apologies for the trouble… I was… Absorbed in doing my… task. I did not expect to face so powerful a foe. He was… significantly different from the other Magusjaegers we faced today.”[/color] [color=87CEEB][i]And that mask… He must be one of them. Outmatched by a Masked One yet again…[/i][/color] She sighed softly before addressing the Zeno again. [color=87CEEB]”I hope, at the very least, that the objective….”[/color] She paused, recomposing her words. [color=87CEEB]”... Pardon me. I mean, I hope at the very least that his majesty King Rouis is safe?”[/color]

Zeno Lascand stroked his beard, every bit the archetypal magus, and seemed to study Eun-Ji for a moment. Then, he nodded and managed a tight, professional smile. [b]“Just so. His majesty is well thanks to efforts such as yours. Now,”[/b] he recommended, [b]“let us get back to the others.”[/b] 
[hr][hr]
[h1][color=000000][u]T H E  C H E S S M A S T E R     [/u] _  _   _    _     _[/color][/h1]
A tall, lean figure peeled out of a mask, dark shoulder-length hair swaying with the motion. With a light clack against a wooden tabletop, it set the mask aside and reached eagerly for a tall jar of water.

The figure drank greedily for a moment, exhaling. Then, it sat there in shadowed repose, so still that one may have taken it for a statue or a rather poor illusion. The room was not large. A lone candle flickered on a tabletop. A second guttered in a wall sconce some ways away. 

Slowly, as if either tired or savouring the moment, the figure leaned forward. Long pale fingers reached out towards a chessboard. They picked up and moved pieces about. A couple of pawns left the board. Finally, a pointer drew back before a black rook and flicked it over. The valuable piece toppled with a clack that seemed to carry in the stillness and darkness. 

Seemingly satisfied, the hand drew away and the figure leaned back.
[hr][hr]
[/hider]
[hider=That Night][center][h1][url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FnkTuHP9q3o]That Night[/url][/h1][sup]Music Above[/sup]
[img]https://media.istockphoto.com/photos/viking-longship-burning-picture-id1248269519?k=20&m=1248269519&s=612x612&w=0&h=8Yr-sqWx2SYbu0IyXqJhPpSChEodALiFyiuINXuzr8Y=[/img][/center]
Marlijn had never felt so inadequate in triumph. A half-dozen of her fellow Eskandish lay dead on a makeshift raft on the water, among them Lady Anesin. Her hands trembled with more emotions than she could hold. She, Karim, Desmond, and Owain had gone in search of the chemical mage who had been moving people like pawns, but what they had found simply didn't make sense: there had been nobody in range capable of that kind of magic - nobody even close. It was as if the spells had simply come out of nowhere. 

[b]"Into the darkness, brothers and sisters, you voyage,"[/b] spoke King Horik solemnly. A rose of flame blossomed on the raft and spread quickly. [b]"The journey from these green lands is long, but we know that Shune-Zept's light will guide you."[/b] 

It wasn't right that they had died in the Greenlands, Marlijn thought, this unholy place with its crowded stinking cities, strange beasts, and greedy, gasping men. 

[b]"Though we will not see you arrive at the Visitor's table, we know, one day, that we too will hear the call, and we will meet you there to drink and feast until the time of the Giving."[/b][i]The Visitor.[/i] She had heard of the Old Gods, of course - the heathen gods. [i]The Giving[/i] Hearing one mentioned was shocking, though, and in concert with the Pentad. Uncertainly, Marlijn glanced towards Owain and he seemed lost in thought, brow furrowed.  

[b]"Let this fire of Eshiran cleanse your vessels from this mortal plane," [/b]Horik continued. [b]"So that your spirits may voyage."[/b]
The raft was fully ablaze now. [b]"Voyage well, brothers and sisters."[/b] He bowed his head. Marlijn bowed hers. All of the others did. After about a minute, the flicker of flames on the waves had died down and what was left of it disappeared. The Eskandishwoman raised her head and wiped away the handful of tears that had slipped, unbidden, down her cheeks. War had been declared on their people, by those who they'd welcomed into their halls, who they'd embraced, given bread and salt, and called friends. Horik Vinderborg was not her king, but he had been right. There must be blood. 
[hr][hr]
They had galloped across the border: hundreds of Perrench cavalry of the Legion de la Flamme Sacree, banners fluttering as they went. Wheeling and swirling, they surrounded the king and his entourage and formed a perimeter. Penny exchanged a look with her father and he nodded and smiled slyly, directing his comment at more than just her. [b]"As you can see, they never truly had a chance."[/b] He raised his chin. [b]"Our enemies are so foul that they're predictable at this point."[/b] His jaw set pridefully, [b]"and our strength so great that they could not [i]hope [/i]to overcome us."[/b]

Against such a force, Penny could not imagine many but the city of Ersand'Enise itself standing, and this was not more than one tenth of the Legion. Yet, the spectacle and the feeling that it created in the depths of her stomach served only as temporary distraction. She had shouted 'Papa' during the conflagration. She had been heard. Madeleine was still stealing glances between her and her father. Yvette had only recently dabbed away her tears, but she had certainly heard as well. Carmille was being prudent about it, but the Princess was fairly certain she'd caught a subtle glance as well. She tried to hide the breath that she took, but failed. Her fist closed tightly around the grip of her crutch and the world grew fuzzy as her pulse thundered in her ears. [i]I am not Penny Pellegrin anymore,[/i] she knew right then, giving the imaginary girl who'd scarcely had a chance to live an imaginary burial in her mind's eye. [i]She was the only casualty on our side.[/i]

And yet... had she not protected her father and fellow Perrench with power and purpose? Had she not relayed the messages by her own hand that had led to a new alliance being forged? Had not she stood and begun the anthem that had united thousands and would yet make a folk hero of King Rouis XI? She was Penelope de Perrence, blood of a thousand years of royalty and soon to be one of the most powerful magi alive. Why [i]should [/i]she live in fear and shame? At the king’s statement, she bowed her head gracefully, bringing it down to the level of the other girls' [b]"It is as you say, my king. We shall get ours,"[/b] she agreed. [b]"I have no doubt."[/b] She turned her smile on them, beatific. [b]“Would you not agree, friends?”[/b]

Carmillia gave Penelope a comforting smile but said nothing. However the Royal wanted to interpret it was up to her but Carmillia wasn't going to play her cards [i]yet[/i]. Though it was possible there was more to her circumstances, it was clear why Penny's lineage was kept under wraps.

Being as she was - still somewhat beside herself - Yvette simply aped Carmille’s response. She nodded and smiled reassuringly while Madeleine pulled herself together enough to let her eyes rove across the hundreds of mounted magi. [b]“Yes, I’ve no doubt, your ro…”[/b] she seemed to hesitate, [b]“[i]right,[/i] of course.”[/b] 

Rouis towered above the four of them. He was quite an imposing figure in his full regalia. He glanced down. [b]“I look forward to great things from you four young ladies and I expect you shall remain the firmest of friends.”[/b] His tone seemed to shift for the briefest of moments. [b]“You make our nation proud,”[/b] he affirmed. “And now you must excuse me.” The head of the detachment was there. He dismounted before the king and removed his helmet: it was Sir Jean de Lorraine, the Sword of Arsice. [b]“My King.”[/b] He bowed low and that was the girls’ cue to move on. Fresh horses had been provided for each of them and surely they would want to return to Ersand’Enise after such a harrowing ordeal.
[hr][hr]
[/hider]
[hider=Daybreak][center][h1]Daybreak[/h1][/center]
With that strangest of nights over, the students of Ersand'Enise woke to a changed world. When first they rolled out of bed, few were aware of the entirety of what had happened the night before. Yet, news spread across campus like wildfire and, soon, there were few students who had [i]not [/i]heard. King Jobanzaggah had been slain by an unknown assailant or assailants and Jomurr Ikon had been found, half-dead, in the coastal mangroves north of the cliffs. Anesin Bjelke and a handful of other less notable students had not been so fortunate. Yet, there were those who'd returned covered in glory: Desmond Catulus, Seung Eun-Ji, Karim Nazeri, Penny Pellegrin, and Carmillia Carbonneau among others. 

Yet, before any of this could take place, the day started with another interruption to routine: under their bedroom doors, every student at the academy found a note. In it was detailed what were to be their new student groups, for reasons of politics and balance, ostensibly. When they opened these, they found who were to be their new roommates and masters.

[indent][indent]1. [b]Zeno Sienna Afraval:[/b] Carmillia, Leon, Penny, Onarr
2. [b]Zeno Hamir Zemana:[/b] Dorothea, Manfred, Eun-Ji, Wvysin 
3. [b]Zeno Zander Mozaru:[/b] Desmond, Karim, Marlijn, Jomurr[/indent][/indent]

While some found that they would have plenty of time for morning introductions, others - who had signed up for either the Making Camp class, the secret Blood Magic class, or both - found themselves hurrying off after only brief introductions, many only partially fed and hungover. Strange, they thought, but perhaps fitting that the Blood Magic class was to be held outside of the city proper, in a large, rambling complex on the outskirts of Mudville.

For many of the remainder, it was to be a day off and a day of adjustment. Two, in particular, however, found more than one letter slipped beneath their doors that morning. For Leon Solaire it was an urgent summons from his patron, the Doge of Revidia, to meet for luncheon. For Onarr Yidlob, it was an invitation from the local Stresian Chapter to attend a seminar by famed Stresian Philosopher (and Ersand'Enise professor) Alcaster Serra on the moral implications of magic in paid medical practice after lunch hour.
[hr][hr]
[/hider]