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    1. BlondyMcHuggles 7 yrs ago

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23 December 3160

"Adjust bearing to 3-2-0, 0-4-0, out." The flight controller sounded as though he had spoke such instructions a million times throughout his career. Maybe he was just bored. The fighter pilots followed their instructions and continued flying through the blackness of space. Distant stars filled the blackness around the craft like a Pointillist painting, each one holding a world of possibility and adventure.

Experienced pilots got used to it after a while and saw the stars not as beautiful beacons but just another part of life. Or as mere distractions.

The communications opened up again with a small crackle. "Target 13 hundred K out, over." his voice was muffled slightly, a consequence of the flight helmets the pilots wore.
Aya scanned the space in front of her and saw a slightly peanut-shaped dot; it was slightly dimmed out by the bright stars far, far behind them. "Uh... is it the port or starboard-side one, over?"
"We think port-side." another pilot replied, though he sounded unsure at best. "Wouldn't surprise me if it's wrong, frankly."

Aya replied with something resembling murmured agreement. The Republic's military intelligence agencies didn't care as much about pirates as they should, what with the war going on. On top of that, fewer and fewer ships were devoted to such anti-piracy missions with each passing week resulting in the Navy just barely able to maintain law and order.

Aya took a quick glance at the Ladar screen on her dashboard; there were three blips where there should be two - the pair of asteroids. What was the third one? "I'm getting three dots, probably an error. Are your screens working?" What followed was affirmatives from everyone else in the group.
"Thinkin' it's a ship." the flight leader said. He maintained his normally calm demeanour even after such an unexpected curveball. "I'll check back with the boat, wait a few. Out."

A moment passed when the comms crackled to life again. "Victorious thinks it's a captured merchant ship, but we're ordered to engage regardless; 1 through 7 will try to hit any fighters they might deploy while 8 through 1-5 hits their defences. Clear?"

The starfighters continued on their course - the appearance of a ship was an unfortunate complication that the fighters might not be able to deal with, but what else could be done? No other warships besides their carrier were in the area, and leaving the pirates alone certainly wasn't an option.

Chatter began to come through the squadron's communications as half a dozen torpedo bombers accelerated ahead - a salvo of small missiles shot out from their internal bays - defences on the asteroids opened fire immediately in a futile attempt at stopping the tidal wave of ordnance flying at them.

The defences were silenced in short order. Pirate fighter craft exited a small hangar inside one of the asteroids, but that this point it was far too late. The craft rapidly dispersed as cannonfire came at them; the 'merchant ship' emerged from its cover guns blazing, her point-defence cannons shredding a fighter to pieces.

The ship herself looked to be in rough shape, as though she had been caught in the middle of being stripped for parts. Still, her armaments were very much intact and posed a significant threat. Lasers and tracers illuminated the dark space as both sides did battle.

Aya felt her whole fighter vibrate for barely a second as she fired its cannon, sending glowing green tracers into an unlucky pirate's craft. She saw its cockpit module detach from the fuselage - the only safe way to eject from a burning starfighter in space.

She took quick glances at the pod as the battle progressed; it was unusual for pirate pilots to eject, mostly because they are guaranteed to be captured and tried. Still, in Aya's mind it had to be better than dying in a fireball.

The blinding flash from an enormous explosion grabbed her attention.

The pirate ship that had been hammering her squadron had a gaping hole where one of its main guns used to sit; a pair of her squadron's torpedo bombers emerged from the thick smoke coming from the ship, only to turn right back around for another pass.

A rapid burst from the surviving cannons quickly put a stop to that.

The pirate ship began to tilt downwards and to starboard, her thrusters pulsing as they began to die. The ship slowly became a victim of the relatively weak gravity of one of the asteroids, slipping closer and closer to the floating rock with each passing second. Still, at that rate it'd still take several hours for them to collide.

"I think I saw an open hangar on that ship," came the voice of her flight leader over the comms. "Port side, near the centre. Over."
Aya's eyes went back and forth times between the ship's port side and what was ahead of her. Eventually, she caught sight of the hanger - it certainly didn't have a large entrance, but it looked quite deep, going about half-way into the ship's innards. The cogs in Aya's head began to spin.

"Could we get a torp' in there? Uh, over." It sounded like a big ask, but she believed it to be the best shot the squadron had for taking the ship out permanently. After all, a massive explosion inside the ship would be a lot more destructive than one outside.

Aya could imagine seeing him shrug as he replied. "I mean, probably." A relatively tiny explosion in her peripheral vision interrupted the both of them for a second. "Let's get rid of these fighters that're left and we'll talk. Out."

She and the other fighters hunted down the pirates that remained for the next few minutes, often while dodging fire from the ship's surviving CIWS. Eventually, the space was totally cleared and the small hulks of destroyed fighter craft littered the space around her. Now, only the ship remained.

"Alright people," the squadron leader began, and immediately had everyone's attention. "Our surviving torpedo bombers are going to launch an attack on the open hangar bay on the ship's port side. The rest of us will fly in with them, keep their defences busy. Form up here and await instruction. Out." Once he came off the comms, a bright blue waypoint flashed in Aya's HMD, signifying the rally-point.

Once everyone was there, the comms flared up again. "Okay, the fighters are gonna go in first, get the attention of the defences. Fly as erratically as possible so you can't be tracked easily and just hold on until the bombers have made their run. Only engage the defences if you have to; I do not want more deaths than necessary. I hope I am clear. Out."

The fighters began their approach towards the ship, and red tracers immediately began flying from the ship's guns. The fire rate of those weapons was so great that the individual tracers were impossible to make out; they looked like fluid laser beams.

Aya and her comrades ducked and weaved through the lightshow, flying without any method or grace whatsoever. 'Still,' Aya thought, 'if it keeps us alive...' The torpedo bombers closed in at a rapid pace from another angle. Aya held her breath and prayed for them to get within range...

Aya heard nothing as the glass of her cockpit shattered - what little air there was got sucked out immediately, and Aya immediately found herself in a vacuum. Although she was magnetically attached to her seat, she still felt the pressure of the vacuum trying to suck her into the void. She actually considered herself lucky - she and others wore sealed flight suits for precisely this reason.

Her fighter shuddered violently as a few more bullets flew straight through the fuselage and one of the wings. She put her fighter into a series of wild twists and turns as red streaks shot right past her. It was much harder to control than before, almost as if the fighter was fighting her the whole way. Red warning lights flashed all over what was left of the cockpit and sirens blared. Not that she could actually hear them.

Now, her full attention was on flying and surviving. She never should have made the mistake of focusing on what the bombers were doing. A few seconds of radical manoeuvres came and went, as did another few... Then another.

And then... the tracers stopped. the guns that had been firing at them were silent. Aya looked back at the ship, almost totally enveloped in a massive ball of bright white and red light. The explosive glow slowly began to fade away, revealing the ship - more a floating corpse of metal at this point - torn completely in two. Both halves of the ship floated away in opposite directions.

Aya leaned back in her seat and put her hands over her face. Despite not being prepared to face down an actual ship, she and her squadron succeeded. Even with certain death just an inch from her face, she was happy. With luck, this dangerous surprise will prompt the intelligence services to once again keep an unblinking eye on piracy. She could only hope.
The snow crunched underneath the boots of a dozen men, walking as they sang. Singing is just about the only thing to distract them from the huge loads they carry on their backs and the cold that bites at them through their armour. The planet of La Messe wasn't always like this - it was originally a lush garden world if you can believe that. Now, half is frozen and the other half is molten rock and glass. A faint red glow creeps over the horizon, a tiny glimpse at the terrible suffering happening just beyond. Suffering which Elara is powerless to stop...

"Ellie." a voice came from around her, slightly drowned out but audible nevertheless. "You listening?"
Elara snapped back to reality and found herself sitting at a table in a small cafe. A small robot with a computer screen for a body hovered just to the side of her. The emote on its face showed some mild concern. "Elara apologises, Mister Peter! Mistress Elara was stuck in her daydreams again." Elara nodded. The robot had gotten good at speaking for her - something she couldn't do for herself anymore.
"Clearly." Peter said, totally deadpan. Peter was a fairly oldish man, being in his mid-fifties. He had a well-groomed beard and short grey hair, but he was still reasonably well-built despite his age. He served as the ship's executive officer, answering only to Captain Władysław Sobolewicz. Next to him were a few other crew members, mostly other officers.

"As I was saying, we are going to remain on this station for a few days while we have the ship restocked. So take the time to have a few nice meals with the money you've earned, or do whatever else strokes your fancy. I'll be in contact with all of you possibly tomorrow for when you need to report back to the ship. Understood?" He looked around the table, and was answered by nods or murmured agreement.

The pirates split up into small groups and went their separate ways - it was a habit the crew religiously followed, both for safety and for simple camaraderie. Elara joined the ship's quarermaster - a pale-skinned, pale-haired, wiry man named Anton. So unfortunately, this trip wasn't going to be for fun; the ship wasn't going to restock itself, after all.

The stations hallways, while wide, were still quite cramped - that was the price of having a station at a junction for interstellar trade. Elara was always uncomfortable being on stations like these - the busyness didn't exactly bother her, but the presence of aliens did. Unfortunately, there wasn't a lot she could do about it. Without getting arrested anyway.

It wasn't far to reach the depots but the crowded halls was certainly extending the journey.
"Ellie, what was it we needed for the med bay again?" Anton asked while weaving through the people in his way.
"We need another bed, mister Anton!" Elara's robot relied for her once again in its forever-cheerful tone. "And a cubicle curtain, as well as a heart-rate monitor, some IV bags, and needles plus-"
"Right." Anton said with a sigh. "Just send me the list." Elara quickly pulled out her phone and rapidly tapped the screen a few times; Anton's own phone pinged once she'd finished. "Thank you."

The rest of the trip passed in silence between the two pirates - it was practically impossible for Elara to have a conversation with anyone in an environment as crowded as the station. Many had trouble just reading sign language as is, and that was without having to look out for people they might bump into.

With luck, it wouldn't be a problem for much longer...




As the adventurers prepared to split up and set out, Bjorn tapped Angela on the shoulder. In his other hand was a small book. "Think you might want this. It's some of my notes about where to find various artifacts." The hulking barbarian explained.

The dragonslayer glanced down at the book offered to her. "Don't ever touch me again." With that said, Angela grabbed the book from the barbarian's grasp. Everything about that damn barbarian grated on every last nerve she had - whenever she blinked, she could hear his voice and parts of that infernal song in her head, teasing and taunting her. That was definitely not what she wanted. Not now. She had already gone through two of her vials and she only had a handful left...

The knight inhaled deeply, casting those unwelcome thoughts from her mind. She turned to the other members of her group, all of whom seemed raring to go. "Wait a moment. We're gonna read this to decide on our next move; we might as well do it in this cave." Without another word, she sat down on the ground, with her legs crossed before opening the book. It should prove a valuable distraction from the goings on in her head.

Bjorn bristled at the other dragonslayer's insult. He hadn't really planned on touching Angela again, nor had he meant anything other than getting her attention, but he did not take kindly to being disrespected like that. He itched to draw his axe and end her or even just grab her by the throat and hurl her into a cave wall with all his might. There was a time when he would have done just that without so much as a second thought, but he knew all too well that if he lost his temper, he might lose control altogether. His adoptive children were also nearby and he had no desire to harm them. Perhaps he'd be able to get even later, but for now, he'd just have to content himself in the knowledge that he was traveling with far more likable companions. At least, he hoped they were more likable. He hadn't gotten to know the Solanians well, but it was a rather low bar for them to jump, in his opinion. Biting back on his anger, he walked away.

Ceara walked past the irate berserker, making sure to give him a wide berth as she approached Angela. Nima lingered close behind her. “Whats the move then, boss?” she asked. “That book have some stuff on those trinkets we’ve been talking about or what?”

Angela shrugged, continuing to skim through Bjorn's book. She quickly found something that got her attention - one good thing she could say about Bjorn was that he did not bother with useless information. "The Barbarian has noticed a lot of activity coming from a cave to the north-north east, and what's interesting is that he doesn't think this cave is one of their lairs."

She carried on reading the book for a minute. "He doesn't know what's in there, but based on what's in this book I think we should investigate it." When she looked up to hear the team's replies, Bjorn's whispering and the song began anew. It was like having soft wind inside her head that would never end. At least, not until...

Ceara bit her lip apprehensively. “Right… Sure, caverns, dragon-cultists, sounds grand.” The thief looked across the mountain pass to peer at the other group preparing their horses. She turned back to Angela, lowering her voice to a whisper. “But maybe this isn’t the smartest thing to do? You were in that cave with him, same as me. This Bjorn seems unsound at best and completely batshit insane at worst. Do we know that the scribbles in that book are describing real places? What if he’s in tight with these people?”

Glancing to the pile of frozen corpses further in the cave, Allen shook his head. "I don't think he's in tight with anybody. He doesn't exactly seem like the type to make alliances with his food," He looked at Ceara, and then to Angela. "I trust Ser Kõivli's judgement; if she decides do investigate this cave, I say we go."

"Agreed. Besides, the barbarian wouldn't be smart enough to deceive us." Angela looked back towards the cave entrance. "If he really is leading us on, well... we'll burn that bridge when we get to it."

Angela got back up to her feet and began a brisk walk towards the exit. The rest of her group followed closely behind. "If we're quick, we should get there before it gets dark."
The group made their way out of the keep and towards the public square at the centre of the city, which was their designated meeting point with the others. It was early in the morning the day after they were all arrested, but hopefully the rest would be there waiting. After all, everyone had agreed on getting a good night's sleep beforehand.

Lucian, Kinara and Sorano, along with the newcomer Allen, led the bunch of weary adventurers towards their destination; Gottmar and Angela walked right at the back - there was a charged tension in the air between them that could be cut with a knife. Nima and Ceara were busy chatting amongst themselves.

Athaliah and Rhiara were chatting the time away as well - they were both devastated by the lack of sleep they got in the cells, but hardly anybody could notice once they started speaking to each other.
"So, why were you and Sorano there to help in the first place?" Athaliah began. There wasn't a hint of suspicion in her voice at all. In fact, she sounded happy more than anything. "Not sayin' I don't appreciate you, but you've gotta admit, it's kinda fortuitous."

"Well..." Rhiara looked down at her feet. "You hadn't come back when you were expected, and we... uh, I, got worried."
"Worried, about me? C'mon, I feel like you don't take me seriously enough." A little grin appeared at one of the corners of her lips.
Rhiara, however, was less amused; she put a hand on her own hip and looked her friend in the eyes. "You were nearly burned alive for witchcraft and then nearly executed by that knight," she retorted, her voice in a deadpan tone. "How are you not taking this seriously?"

"I'm sorry," Athaliah gulped, looking suitably scolded. "I just wanted to lighten the mood." Athaliah had always hated it when people began to worry for her safety. Of course, that didn't stop her from worrying about Rhiara in much the same way.

"Speaking of lightening the mood..." Rhiara suddenly started beaming as she pulled her quiver full of arrows off of her back. She began to file through the arrows, in search of something. It didn't help that both she and Athaliah were walking at the same time.
Athaliah looked at the white-haired girl quizzically. "Uh, what're you doing?"
"I didn't bring my pack with me." Rhiara shrugged as she replied, gesturing with a free hand to a spot on the front of her armour where she'd normally keep a small leather bag. A few more long seconds passed.

"Yay! Got it!" Rhiara cheered triumphantly as she pulled out a slightly dirtied red rose. Not a real rose, obviously. It looked to be made of clay, or some other similar material. Nevertheless, it still looked as a rose should, with all the textures that entailed - whomever made it took a lot of pride in their work. "I wanted to get you something. You know, to, ah, thank you for the gift you got me last time we were here. That's why I left you alone last night. Good thing I did..."

Athaliah cringed inwardly. "Rhiara, I appreciate it, truly. But... well, I hate roses."
"Oh." Rhiara looked down at her feet, suddenly and utterly dejected. "I-I'm sorry." Rhiara began to whine like a scolded dog. "I just thought... you know, the symbol of Karargos includes a rose, and I thought it would remind you of home..."
Athaliah gingerly took the fake rose out of Rhiara's hand. "Stop worrying, ya big baby."
"Sorry?"
"I think it's wonderful. Thank you." Athaliah gave her friend a genuine smile. She slipped the stalk of the rose into one of the buckles that fastened her red jerkin up. It was really all she could do with it, given how she didn't bring any storage space with her either. "When and how did you even get this, though?"

"Well, you remember that I said I needed to do something when we got here yesterday?" Rhiara was back to her usual, bubbly self as if she was never saddened in the first place. "This was that!" she exclaimed with glee. "There were so many things that I could ave gotten for you..." Rhiara turned around to cast a quick glance towards Sorano. "I'm glad he came along with me; it might have been boring listening to him going on, but I learned what so many flowers symbolise!"
Athaliah chuckled. "So I guess it's him I need to thank, and not you?"
"What? No, no!" she replied hastily. "Well, kind of. It was mostly me though." Rhiara added, a hint of pride in her voice.

"So..." Athaliah couldn't hide the hint of a cheeky grin on the edge of her lips. "Sorano convinced you to get this little rose, didn't he?"
"I thought of it first!" she replied quickly, taken slightly off-guard by the question. "I knew that the red rose symbolised where you came from even before Sorano helped me make up my mind!"
Athaliah narrowed her eyes with suspicion, though her voice remained light-hearted and playful. "Hmmm. So did he say to make up your mind completely, then?"
"Please stop." Rhiara groaned as she glanced around nervously, as if silently begging someone to save her from embarrassment.

A smug grin appeared on Athaliah's lips; her reply was a simple "No."
"Fiiiine!" Rhiara whined. "Apparently it, uh... well... a red rose also means, um..." her face had gone beet red as she squirmed, creating a nice contrast with her white hair. "It represents love and passion." she finally answered. Her voice was as meek as it had ever been. She took in a deep breath before continuing. "I love you."

Upon saying that, Rhiara felt as though a whole two years' worth of feelings were suddenly lifted from her shoulders. Athaliah fell completely silent, dumbstruck. She eventually swallowed her nervousness after a few tense seconds. "Can we pick this conversation up somewhere private, Weiss?" she put an arm around her friend's shoulder and gave Rhiara her more reassuring smile. "I'd rather not talk about this in front of other people."
Athaliah pulled Rhiara closer and brought her lips to the white-haired girl's ear. "But for now?" she whispered. "I do too."

At that, Rhiara's purple eyes started to glaze over; even the thoughts of Htraknu and gods were forced from her mind as she looked forward to the future with absolute glee.



That's one of the prettiest applications we've had so far; you're accepted! You can post your app into the Characters tab whenever you're ready!

Now, a note for everyone reading: there will be no more additions to the RP. As of now, the RP is closed to new applications.
The red dragon Htraknu stood tall amidst an endless sea of trees; the few leaves that they had were shades of red and purple, mixed in with valuable trinkets like necklaces which clung to the branches. In the distance, bright red light extended high into the sky, breaking the natural skyline. The sky above was in perpetual blackness, save for the shine of distant stars and an arm of the galaxy stretching diagonally across the sky.

At the dragon's colossal feet lay the broken body of the Shaitun Latemis - her trickery and her subtlety was no match for the sheer brutality of Htraknu and his new army of the dead. Though the goddess had hidden herself amongst the shadows of trees giant and small, the walking corpses burned them down without a thought. Her bands of spectral thieves and assassins could not hope to compare to thousands upon thousands of mindless warriors and the dragon-god's fire.

All things considered, that fight was a relatively easy one for the red dragon. Well, as easy as a fight with a god can be. Htraknu felt the power of yet another dead god coursing through his veins. A colossal roar of triumph left the beast's mouth - his undead followers all across this forlorn realm joined their own cries, resulting in a haunting shriek that could be heard for miles around.

Htraknu felt a strange tingling sensation in one of his front limbs; he looked down to see that the normally crimson scales on his foot had changed into a mucky green-brown colour, perfectly matching the shade of the dirt beneath him. With some intense thought, he managed to get his foot back to its regular bloody colour.

'This will take some getting used to...' he thought. After a few tries, he was able to shift the colour of his entire leg, then eventually, his entire body. He felt... smarter somehow, too. Clever little strategies to defeat the various gods passed through his mind. He also thought up ways of commanding his undead-orcish-goblin armies to victory... that would go far to save him from the indignity of relying on the orcish chiefs' aid in planning his next movements.

He still had a ways to go before he could take on the more powerful gods such as Solanius and he knew that even before he absorbed Latemis' knowledge and powers. So, next on his list would be Molarten, the God of domination, enslavement and the orcs. His powers would certainly come in handy, and he needed all orcs on his side, without question.
Although it took a short while, the Vilvere knight had finally dressed herself for the quest of a lifetime. Doubts about the whole thing were still etched firmly into her mind, like if she'd make it out alive or if the threat was truly real at all. Not that she feared death itself; every Vilvere Knight who went through the process of joining was prepared for it. She was more afraid of her death meaning nothing.

She wore a steel-scaled tabard with blue accents- its arms, which were also blue, were padded and pockmarked with numerous steel studs. She would normally wear even more armour on top of all that, but it would inconvenience her in situations like the one she found herself in now.

"You don't need to kneel every time you visit, you know." a middle-aged man, clad in typical Solanian robes, stood in front of her. He always spoke in one of those soft, sincere tones that could probably placate an orc.
"Apologies, Father." she replied, rising back up to her full height. While she was just barely taller than the spindly priest she figuratevely looked up to, she probably weighed about twice as much - the outlines of powerful muscles in her arms and legs were decently visible in her under-armour. "Old habits."
The priest nodded slowly, understanding precisely what she meant by that. "Now, what can I do for you, Ser Angela?"

Angela sighed and let her shoulders slump. "It's about what I'm going to do. Did you read the letter I wrote to you half an hour ago?"
The priest raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "About Htraknu?" Angela nodded in response.
"Yes. I need to make up for Vilvere's mistakes, Father. We failed to kill it before, and now it might be the end of all of us." she didn't actually sound worried. Instead, her voice was full of determination.
"Is this what's bothering you?"
The knight shook her head no. "The people who gave us that information were affiliated with the Knights Solanian. I know I have to go with them to solve this, but... well, you know how I feel about them." she paused for a short second. "Not to mention that Eastern dog they have with them."

The priest put a hand on Angela's shoulder. "My lady, you have a lot more to worry about these days than mistrusting your new allies. You may hate it as much as you wish, but the world as we know it could be at stake, and the people you so despise are willing to work together to save it." Angela averted her gaze towards her feet. "You need to be willing to do the same."

"Okay." she sounded uneasy with the whole idea, but she'd always listened to what the Clergy had to say. "I can't promise I'll have a good relationship with them though."
"Good relationships are necessary. You may have to rely on them to save your life one day."
"I doubt it'll be a battle that finally gets me."
"Angela."
The knight sighed. "Okay, I'll do my best." she looked down at two vials full of dark red, viscous liquid that were attached to a string tied around her wrist. "What do I tell them about...?" she trailed off, almost mesmerised by the contents of the vials.
"Whatever you want."

"I understand." she put on an expression of determination. "May I take my leave?"
The priest gave her a simple nod. "Of course. Stay safe, knight."
She bowed slightly in response. "You as well, Father."
The dungeons underneath Viarosa's keep were similar to those all across the continent - dark, dank and cold. It was a seemingly-endless maze of crumbling stone and black iron bars with very little natural light. Instead, small torches sporadically placed on the walls provided what little light there was.

Silence in the dungeon was rare - not entirely surprising given the nature of a few people who were imprisoned. If prisoners weren't arguing with the dungeon's guards, you could be sure that they were arguing with each other. And that was on the best of days.

Everyone who had participated in the brawl in the street found themselves in the dungeon's cells; they had all been interrogated and were simply waiting for what would come next. Plenty of time had passed, but nobody knew exactly how much. Definitely a few hours, at least?

While the official capacity for the cells was five people, the guards constantly and conveniently forgot about that - everyone that supported Gottmar, and Gottmar himself, were crammed into one cell. The others didn't have it any easier, as they found themselves in the same position. Everyone had their weapons and armour confiscated from them; those who wore nothing but underwear under their protective gear, like Rhiara, could count themselves lucky - she got to keep hers.

Insults were occasionally traded between the two sides, but there wasn't much anyone could do besides that. A pair of plain city-folk were in the midst of a particularly strongly-worded argument when a loud 'clack' and then a drawn-out 'creak' from the dungeon's entrance made them both quiet down almost immediately. A few pairs of footsteps came stomping down the hallway towards both of the cells.

The source of the sound was a duo of guards, decidedly less well-armed and armoured than their counterparts that apprehended the group. They wore simple leather armour and carried a shortsword with them wherever they went. Accompanying the guards was a very well-armoured man clad in full plate armour with white and blue accents.

One of the guards pointed to Gottmar, and then at Athaliah, Sorano, Ceara and the rest. "These are the ringleaders; the ones the Chevaleresse-Lieutenant will want to see." The other guard nodded and walked towards Gottmar's cell while the knight stood watch.
"Your lucky day, scarface." the man sneered at the witch-hunter as he used his key on the cell door; the knight behind him had his hand on the hilt of his sword, ready to deal with anyone who thought about running while the cell was open.

"Were it a lucky day for any of us, you would not have intervened in the execution of my sacred duties," Gottmar snarled, glaring furiously at the guard. He rose, stepping through the open cell door to face the knight.

Meanwhile, his companion did the same to the other door; Sorano, Mostafa, Mortirmir, Rhiara, Athaliah and Ceara were all escorted out of the cell, the knight's presence ensuring that everyone else stayed inside. Both of the doors were soon locked again.

Athaliah and Sorano glowered at Gottmar, who did the same in return - the only thing stopping them from trying to kill each other were the armed guards separating them.

The journey into the keep itself didn't take too long - soon enough, the group was walking along the richly-decorated hallways filled with valuable paintings, statues and other trinkets that only the insanely rich would own. Milo Demetrios, the man who owned the city and the keep, couldn't resist flaunting his weath, it seemed.

Eventually, they reached the keep's church; somehow, it avoided the disgusting lavishness that had affected the rest of the keep. It was actually somwhat bare, especially considering that it was one of the more important churches in the city - all the nobility would go to worship there, and the local knights of several holy orders called it their home.

Waiting for them was a woman in her early thirties, with brown skin, braided brown hair and sharp, grey eyes. She wore a set of blue and golden robes; while it was a bit more form-fitting than normal robes, it still did an excellent job at covering her up. Both Sorano and Gottmar recognised the colour combination and the exact type of robe - the woman belonged to the Vilvere Order, from to the east a ways.

She walked forwards to meet the group; the woman moved with purpose, like a soldier, rather than taking the delicate steps of a priestess. The way she moved also gave hints as to how powerful her legs were - she wasn't someone who sat in church all day.

"Chevaleresse-Lieutenant." the knight bowed his head respectfully, finally breaking his silence to greet his counterpart. From his accent, he was Illyrican, probably nobility. "This is the group that caused chaos in the streets. According to scarface here," he gestured one of his hands in Gottmar's general direction. "the rest of these people are demon summoners, while they claim that they're trying to save the world from some god-killing dragon, or something." the knight shrugged. "They say that they have proof, but it's only some notes that look like they were written by a madman."

The woman, now confirmed to be another knight, raised a critical eyebrow as her fellow knight shared what he had learned. "And you expect us to believe that?" she said flatly, looking at each prisoner with a less than amused expression. She had a distinctive southern-Rosilandi accent. "Do any of you want to clarify it for me?" she glared at each person besides Gottmar, daring someone to volunteer.

Ceara stepped forward, nodding her head respectfully before speaking. "Look, lady-knight, we hadn't done anything to cause this fighting. We were just eating and talking, nothing close to the intentions that this bedlamite has accused us of." The thief looked down. "He brought us outside and tried to set us ablaze like a bloody madman. We had not a hand in it, I swear."

Athaliah nodded slowly at the redhead's explanation. "It's true, madam." she added. "We were discussing the contents of the notes - we were hoping to use them to find wherever our... associate, made camps, and continue our quest from there."
The woman let out a simple, unconvinced 'Hmm' before turning her full attention to Gottmar. "You. Care to explain why you thought these people were demon-summoners, and a threat to the realm?" she took a quick glance at the rest of the group, Rhiara and Athaliah in particular. "To me, it looks like they're just inexperienced 'adventurers', barely out of their teens."

The witch hunter gestured to the rest of the prisoners, contempt in his eyes. "I heard them myself, huddled around a table in the corner of a tavern, speaking in hushed tones of demons, of sorcery and death. Conspiring, clearly, to commune with creatures of the Infernum." He made the sign of Calidorus across his chest. "Tell me, lady knight, have you spent decades of your life hunting all manner of witches, warlocks, undead abominations and heretical demon-worshippers? For my fellow Brother-Soldiers and I have done just that, and more besides. You will heed my words, therefore, when I say that the innocent appearance of these heathens counts for naught. Justice must be served."

"I'm inclined to agree." the knight frowned at the rest of the group, disapproval plainly written on her face. "Tell me about this 'god-killing dragon' that you claim to be trying to stop." that specific detail was the part that intrigued her the most - after all, her order was founded on the art of hunting dragons, and all its knights still pursued the craft. "How do you know it can kill gods, and how do you know it exists in the first place?"

Sorano had been silent up until this point, carefully considering his testimony. At this point, his scholarly knowledge would help convince the Vilvere Knight. "The journals were written by a man named Bjorn, the third survivor of the Krossavik Disaster. The Godslayer's name is Htraknu, the one responsible for the village's destruction. That much, I can assure you, is no myth," he explained. "Furthermore, ask any priest with any shred of genuine piety what they felt little over a week ago; as the Order of the Knights Solanian feasted in Castle Mirador, Grandmaster Aquila and the clergy -- all ordained with the proper rites and the orthodox understanding of holy orders -- experienced a violent portence that Hargash had died, the cosmic order thus sent into discord."

The robed knight looked disturbed at the mere mention of Htraknu; she and the Order knew that it was he that attacked Krossavik and other villages in northern Asmeinland, but they were never able to find and kill him. Now she was hearing that he had killed a god. She had a sudden, almost crippling headache a week before that awoke her from her sleep, but she had no idea what caused it. Until now. "You're certain?" her voice was almost silent and much less commanding. It was a moment of weakness she would make sure wouldn't happen again.

"We are, my lady," Rhiara spoke up. "We know two of Krossavik's survivors... They told us of an artifact, a... a scalpel? It was in their village when Htraknu attacked. They said that the scalpel had the power to kill Hargash... Now Hargash is dead."

The knight spent a second or two thinking on what the archer had told her. Their story definitely added up, much to her own dismay. After all, not only did she know that one of the only dragons to have escaped the Order was now a threat to the entire world, she now knew that the people in front of her were associated with that order of heretics in Mirador. People she absolutely despised.

She turned to Sorano with a sudden, newfound fury; she grabbed the elf by the collar of his robes and pulled him towards herself. "Now, don't you dare talk about 'genuine piety' with me, heretic." she snapped. "The other Orders, they may tolerate your power-hungry lies, but we will not. Your band of heretics is doomed to fall, one way or another."

Relatively unfazed as the knight yanked him close, Sorano glanced down at her hand with a mild grimace. "Now while I can certainly understand the anger with which you disparage me, I must ask you to quell it for but a moment," he said, cocking his head to the side. "Firstly, these folks who are with me are not of the Order. I and I alone follow the Son of Our Lord Solanius, and should you hold anyone here for 'heresy' then let it be me, as these others go free."

He reached to gently brush her hand away, giving her a more stern but sincere look. "Secondly, Lady of the Vilvere, I would have expected you were aware that Viarosa, once a shining citadel of progress and trade, has fallen into corrupt hands. The love of money over the Gods has become apparent in many a nobleman, and undoubtedly some clergy. I wouldn't think to question your faith -- and I see that you are a holy woman -- but that of Viarosa's." He paused a beat, glancing over to Gottmar. "And should it be of consolation, that however power-hungry you believe us to be, at least Aquilans refrain from burning the innocent alive on misunderstood hearsay for a God who does not canonically desire such action."

Depsite Sorano's admittedly half-hearted efforts at getting free, the knight kept her grip on the elf's robes - at least until he finished speaking. His selflessness surprised her; she hadn't expected such values from an elf, and a heretic at that.
She finally released her hold on him, pushing him back as firmly as she pulled him before. "My being in this rat's nest of a city is not by choice, elf." She turned her attention to Gottmar, who himself looked to be on the verge of snapping. "As for you, I advise restraint in the future. Not only did your actions lead to half a dozen deaths, but almost resulted in the information they hold being lost forever." She was unimpressed with his conduct, unsurprising given that he was supposed to be part of an order too. "As much as I'd like to have an example made of you, we have more pressing issues right now."

Gottmar snorted. "Restraint? Had I exercised restraint, and my suspicions of these people had proven to be correct, what then? Certainly, we would be facing far worse consequences than a few deaths in a street brawl. Do not dare presume to tell me how to do my job, 'knight'." He turned to Sorano. "And you, heretic, do not lecture me on the will of the gods! You are soft; weak. If it was left to the likes of you to interpret their wishes we would all have died out centuries ago."

"I'll tell you how to do your job whenever I damn well please, especially since you insist on being this bad at it." she retorted coldly. "What was it, five minutes after you entered the inn that a brawl started in the streets, and you've got nothing but damaged pride to show for it? Get out of my sight."

"Absolutely not," the witch hunter spat. "If this dragon is real, and as powerful as you claim - and still I do not believe you entirely - then certainly I cannot allow the task of slaying it to be left to a gang of jumped-up heretics." He glared at the knight. "And as your order holds precisely no authority over mine, you will not attempt to issue commands to me again. Is that clear?"

The knight opened her mouth to retaliate, but she was cut off by a new voice.

"It interests me immensely that mere moments ago you were willing to slaughter my allies in the streets on simple impulse, refusing to believe our justified claim that Htraknu has slain a Shaitun," said Lucian Aquila, his presence now announced to those in the room. He and Nima stood together with the guard that ushered them in, but until this point none of them had sought to interrupt the Knight Vilvere.

"...and now that you have but the faintest inkling of faith in that same claim, you seek to cut us out of the picture and claim our task for yourself that you may seize the glory?"

Lucian smiled, chortling in amusement as he momentarily glanced at the knight, as if checking to see if she found that as noticeable as he did. "Unfortunately for you, I don't think anyone else in this room is willing to let that happen. Were the responsibility of the world's salvation left to a murderous wretch who responds to a castrated ego by puffing up his chest against those who hold him accountable for his actions, and who cannot stand to work with others for the betterment of Thurius, then there certainly would be far worse consequences for everyone on Thurius than the casualties you caused trying to stop better men and women from saving it."

"Pretty words, preacher," Gottmar replied, voice full of malice. "I wonder though, are you prepared to back them up? For if you are not willing to 'let' me do something, surely it falls to you to stop me." He gestured to Lucian, beckoning him forward. "So come on then. Stop me."

"Enough!" the knight yelled at the top of her voice; it seems her patience had finally worn thin. With a simple tilt of her head, the two guardsmen, who were still present, restrained both Lucian and Nima. Meanwhile, the other Vilvere knight grabbed both of Gottmar's wrists in a grip of iron.

"Let me make this perfectly clear, if any of you so much as breathe towards each other, I will kill the both of you." She stalked towards Lucian with a scowl on her face, shoulder-checking Gottmar along the way. "Tell me what that creature is doing here." she didn't even bother looking at Nima. "Now."

"The Easterner, I would presume," Lucian replied, glancing over at Nima. "He is a close friend of the red-haired woman over with the others. On our way to Viarosa together we encountered a village being razed by Hargash's spawn, in a frenzy following their sire's demise. Though the village was lost, we succeeded in intervening in their attack long enough to rescue a great many civilians, who are being sheltered in a hostel not far from the market square," he explained. "The Easterner was wounded in the process, and as per their fickle customs, a cleansed flame was needed before he could accept my healing power."

"As you could probably gather," he casually gestured to the filth on his tabard and face, "I had to search for something he could use to burn for the proper rites. It was moments after I had sealed his wound that this wonderful gentleman here accosted us for attempted arson, though I can assure you this was not our intent." He directed an open hand to the guard whose left arm was locked around his right, weapon at the ready should the Grandmaster try anything brash.

He paused, looking the Knight Vilvere over. "I can tell as it stands that the two of us rather heavily disagree on the details of my ontology, and on our respective doctrines regarding the Gods and the dragon race. But let it be said that I have no ill will to express. Our world is at stake, madame, and I can tell you have a heart for the Gods and their Commandments, as well as for the people of this realm. If you have not already seen the notes that Bjorn of Krossavik composed on Htraknu for yourself, we would be well pleased to show you. Doubtless, a Knight of the Vilvere Order would be instrumental in bringing down the Father of Dragons once and for all, that never again the tragedy of Krossavik could be repeated?"

Her only response, at least for a few seconds, was a deep sigh. "Let them go." she spoke with a certain tiredness in her voice. Lucian, Nima and Gottmar were released from the grips of the guardsmen and the other knight. "Alright, you've convinced me."

She took several steps backwards. "I'll need to tell the Clergy of my intentions... you lot are going to wait just outside, under guard." she began, before turning to her comrade. "Chevalier, make sure these people don't move a muscle until I'm ready."
"Of course, ma'am." he gave his commander a respectful nod before walking towards the exit with everybody in tow. The city guards also took their leave, intending to support their knightly companion.
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