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Post by Caedes Oleander on Nov 30, 2022 21:17:01 GMT -5
He counters so quickly that Caedes can’t help but breathe a laugh; it’s disbelieving in tone, but he doesn’t push the subject. For a man intent on honesty, Killian sure is quiet about himself… isn’t he? He just smiles, his fangs baring in a slight grin when Killian goes so far as to pull out his sword; and he calls what he presumes is a bluff, narrowing his pale eyes towards the man as a tense silence draws between them.
He doesn’t shy away; rather, he can respect this kind of act; these are the kind of mind games that he, himself, might pull if the tables were turned. So he listens to the scratch of Killian’s whetstone against the edge of his blade calmly. Beneath his cloak, hidden, the palm of his hand rests on his dagger just in case he turns out to be wrong about the man’s motives.
He doesn’t poke, nor press, but allows the tension to fizzle as he brings out a strip of leather; and after a moment, Killian meets his eyes across the fire. Caedes narrows his eyes at him as he begins to talk.
… He’s agreeing?
Curious.
He listens quietly, never quite taking his eyes off of Killian while he explains the breadth of his abilities. The changeling tilts his head, blinking slowly while Killian hesitates only to study him. “Hm.” A smile creeps across his lips, a puff of a laugh escaping him. “You are a man of many talents, aren’t you?” Caedes stretches out one leg from where he’s sitting, digging the heel of his boot into the earth.
“It does… but here’s the thing, my dear Killian— your little story has got me worried... I’ll most certainly have your back, but… will you have mine? Or, do you intend to stay silent, and allow me to just hope you will?” It’s a bit of a challenge— honesty for honesty. “It’s only fair… don't you think?”
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Post by Killian Glae on Dec 6, 2022 0:36:08 GMT -5
Killian considered Silas' words. The other man had a point. Killian let his gaze linger on Silas for a moment, then nodded curtly, sheathed his blade, and leaned back into a more relaxed position for the first time all night. He didn't speak right away, considering what he was going to say carefully. The only person on the planet that knew the true story of his imprisonment was Kamille, and he wasn't thrilled at the idea of expanding that exclusive list to include Silas. After a few moments, he took a breath, and began to speak, keeping his eyes on the last dying embers of the fire.
"I committed a crime. A... horrible crime. I won't deny that part. However... I did what I thought necessary. I would do it again if I had to. So no, I have nothing to atone for. Anyways, that... crime... landed me in the Seven. I was eventually granted amnesty in exchange for helping someone important." Killian paused, and considered what else needed to be said. He looked up at Silas. "What I did, I did to protect people. What I do now -heading to Daisy- is to protect people as well."
There was a pause, and then Killian added, almost as an afterthought, and so quiet as to be almost unheard by Silas, "Protecting people is what I do."
There was a brief pause, then he spoke much louder: "I'll have your back. I promise."
Killian looked Silas in the eye. "If that's good enough for you, I suggest we get some sleep. We'll need our strength for tomorrow." He considered for a moment, then suddenly grinned at Silas. "You can take first watch. I trust you." It was a power move, and Killian took genuine enjoyment at pulling it on the other man.
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Post by Caedes Oleander on Dec 11, 2022 14:52:03 GMT -5
He waits patiently, pale eyes never leaving the cold shadows that flicker against Killian’s sharp, but cold face. He watches him lean back to relax; and… then there’s silence. A breeze rolls through their humble, makeshift camp; it scatters harmless, popping embers across the earth. He doesn’t push, though— because at the end of the day— it tells him more about Killian without anything needing to be explained between them. So, when Killian finally takes a subtle breath to speak, the edges of the Changeling’s lips curl up into an attentive smile; the fact that he feels the need to return the favour is, at least, a testament to his character. A need to pacify him, or ensure things are even, depending on how the man views their exchange. Caedes tends to be a pessimist, so he takes the explanation with a grain of salt: but if it holds true… the question really is: is he a misunderstood hero, or does he only truly, genuinely think that he's doing it for the betterment of others? He’s seen both in more places than Darkveil.
But to all other degrees, Killian seems... an honourable man. At the moment. Too honourable, even.
“ I see...” he remarks thoughtfully, his head tilting when Killian pauses in his explanation… protecting people, huh? “ We may have more in common than I initially thought.” Is that an insult, or an attempt to hold common ground? It’s uncertain, but Caedes only smiles when Killian affirms he’ll have his back… and then puts him on guard duty. He almost laughs; in fact, he chokes on an exhale in his attempt to stifle laughter. “ Well… I’m flattered that your heart is big enough to trust me.” Caedes looks across the dying embers at Killian for a moment, before taking a breath. “ Well, Killian… a lovely talk.” His palms clap against his thighs as he rolls forwards and hops up to his feet. His black cloak sways with the motion, hood slipping further down; although the firelight warms his skin tone, it’s quite obvious once he steps away that he’s not just pale— he’s stark white in the moonlight. He moves to retrieve another log for the fire from a small pile gathered earlier that day; he twirls on the heels of his boots, chunking the log onto the fire from a distance. Sparks and embers burst forth, while hungry flames start to lap at the new addition; Caedes swoops down to pick up another log, holding it between his hands as he moves back into the firelight, and offers his new companion a smile. “ But, it’s good for me if it’s good for you. Get some sleep; it’ll be a big day tomorrow when we reach Daisy.”
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Post by Killian Glae on Dec 12, 2022 16:15:03 GMT -5
When morning came, it brought with it a cold breeze and a disquieting silence to the air. Killian adjusted his sword belt, fixed his travel bag in a position where it could be easily unlatched and dropped if needed, and tightened his bracers. They'd be arriving in Daisy at around 11, but Killian would be prepared long before then. He loosened his sword in it's sheath ever so slightly, ready to pull it out in an instant.
He and Silas didn't speak much as they traveled, and Killian was fine with that. As far as he was concerned, Silas was trustworthy enough to fight alongside- at least for today. And that was all Killian needed to know. Killian glanced at him out of the corner of his eye; Silas wasn't carrying too much in the way of weaponry- a bejeweled dagger at his hip and some throwing knives on his belt were all Killian could see. But the way the man carried himself reassured Killian that he would be more than helpful in a fight.
As the morning wore on, eventually Daisy Village came in to view. Killian held up his hand to stop Silas, and motioned him to stay low. The two of them ducked behind a tree and paused to observe Daisy for a minute. The village was small, and very, very quiet. Killian frowned. Hadn't the flyer warned of sounds of crying? Yet not a sound carried through the air. Nor was there any movement in the streets of Daisy.
The hair on the back of Killian's neck stood on it's ends. He didn't like this at all. He glanced at Silas. "Ready?" he whispered.
Killian crept closer to the village, hand on the hilt of his blade, ready to draw it. As he approached the very edge of the village, taking his first step down the simple dirt road, he felt a cool breath on his neck. He glanced behind him, but only Silas was there, and not close enough for Killian to have felt anything from him. A shiver went down Killian's spine. He faced forward once more, and stepped deeper into the village.
He pulled up short when the fog rolled in, thick and heavy. That was never a good sign in a situation like this. In a matter of moments, the village was enshrouded by mist, and the small houses on either side of the duo became hazy and distant.
Killian looked at Silas. "Yeah, definitely haunted."
Then something wrapped around Killian's throat and yanked him backwards into the mists. Silas got a quick look at what appeared to be a neck manacle on the end of a chain before Killian was lost to sight.
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Post by Caedes Oleander on Dec 20, 2022 2:32:26 GMT -5
As morning breaks, a cold wind breezes through the remnants of their makeshift camp. Caedes, having been awake for the last watch of the night, watches Killian’s movements from the corners of his eyes. He doesn’t say much, leaning against the same tree he’s leaned against all night; but as he’s already prepared, once Killian is ready, he pushes himself to his feet. Their travel is spent in mostly silence— silence between Killian and Caedes, that is. The changeling looks on ahead; his expression quiet but mindful, as he steps over any debris in his path; but internally, he does not feel the same silence. Each step towards Daisy becomes… Painful. His throat feels dry despite his entire person being cloaked from the sun; a white noise drones any thought from his mind; and for just a moment, he feels an empty shell in midstep. The only signs that anything could be wrong comes in a shuddering sigh from between his pale lips; still, he pushes through.
Eventually, though, Daisy Village does come into view; Caedes turns his gaze sharply at the movement of Killian’s arm, nodding in response to the motion. The changeling certainly has a natural ability for silence in hindsight; while he’s remaining low, sneaking into the Village beside Killian, even his footsteps are near-soundless. He follows Killian behind a tree— not that there’s enough room for the both of them— and sort of lingers beside him while they look out to the expanse of the village. He feels a chill creep up his spine as he watches the fog roll through small, dusty streets; billowing and rolling in silence. It’s too quiet. Caedes closes his eyes, exhaling quietly when he feels the heaviness begin to set in. Not now. He opens his eyes, pale gaze turning to Killian when he speaks. He nods—a simple answer— and follows Killian into the village soundlessly. He stays just a few paces behind, pale eyes focused on the fog rolling in at their sides; like a breathing thing, the mist pulsates towards and away from them. It’s unsettling to notice, and more unsettling to consider that even the mist in this place lives. He turns his gaze back to Killian, eyes narrowing when he notices the man just turning to face back around. What was he looking for? Or at? The motion causes him to glance over his shoulder quickly; but there’s nothing there but the mist rolling in to cover their path. Hesitantly, he turns back to face their front, frowning. He keeps a hand on his dagger all the while— but it’s not until Killian stops short that everything starts to go wrong. The fog rolls in thick. The white noise returns. Killian opens his mouth to speak; and although Caedes looks at him; another voice overlaps his when he speaks. It drowns out his voice; and Caedes’ eyes widen as the fog shudders and rolls behind Killian. IT’S HERE.“ Killian—” Before he can eek out the words to warn him, something snaps around the other man’s neck. Pale eyes widening in surprise, Caedes lashes out in response— but his hand closes around air. The fog parts for a split second, swallowing the swordsman without hesitation.
He's gone.
“ Shit!” Caedes stumbles, looking up sharply into the haze, while the white noise buzzes in his head. Instinctively, he bolts after Killian— and the fog breathes. Almost expectantly, it rolls aside to let him pass; it clears his line of sight for only a moment, before swallowing him into a haze of the unknown. The fog is cold; Caedes can feel the chill creeping up his spine. He skids to a stop, panting as he tries to reorient himself; but in the haze, all the buildings look the same. Distant. Unreal. Too far away. Where is it!?No response. He turns and keeps running; dagger held tightly in his hand; he tries to process the situation. How they’re going to accomplish this. How he’s going to accomplish this if Killian’s dead. He thinks to call for the swordsman, but he thinks better of shouting in the middle of a haunted village. His eyes narrow sharply; as he passes a crossroads, he spots a silhouette through the haze of fog; and though his steps are near-soundless in the breathing mist, the silhouette turns to see him. It sees him with eyes that he knows too well. IT’S HERE.He chokes.
Caedes can’t possibly skid to a stop fast enough. His heart hasn’t beat in months, but he feels it skip in his chest all the same. A brilliant gold reflects against the mist from the silhouette’s eyes as they open, a shadow of a pair of wings unravel from its back and stretch towards the heavens. The mist clears in a pump of the silhouette’s wings.
Caedes stumbles to a stop with a wince as though he’s been struck; pale eyes wide, and jaw set, he stares. He takes in the very same visage of the man who’d slit his throat that night in Darkveil. His fingers twitch, stifling a protective urge to cover the scar beneath his collar.
Fear and fury boil in his chest.
Why... what?
Gritting his teeth, he tightens his hold on his blade; but he still takes a step back as the Aasimar steps towards him. Hesitantly, his gaze flickers to the side— and through the mist, he spots the shape of another silhouette— one bound by manacles... but he can't make out much else.
He winces, though, when the Aasimar speaks— pale eyes snapping back spitefully to it.
Its voice is calm, repeated like a memory; but overlapped by something deeper and darker. The way it speaks sounds flat, but lilts sarcastically sweet in tone: “ You really should have stayed dead.”
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Post by Killian Glae on Dec 20, 2022 17:53:46 GMT -5
Killian opened his eyes to another day in the Seven. Yes, this was right. This was where he belonged. The cold steel around his neck anchoring him to the wall, the grit beneath his hands as he crouches on the ground in an almost feral position. The loneliness. Oh, the dreadful loneliness of isolation. Killian remembered what it was like to talk to another person. To see sunlight reflect off their skin and to hear the breath in between their words. Gods, he missed people. Here, surrounded by the black stone walls of his cell, the only people he saw were the guards that silently brought him food or changed out his chamber pot.
He remembered a saying he once heard: Hell is other people. No. No, Hell was being alone. Hell was this place and every moment in it. People? People were amazing. They were wonderful and beautiful and so, so perfect, in all their varied ways.
But Killian would never see another person again. Nor did he deserve to, after what he did. He deserved to be in this cold cell, with nothing but the mists that surrounded him for company. Killian frowned. Was there always mist here? There must have been. Nothing ever changes in the Seven. Nothing ever changes in Hell.
Killian looked up when heard the familiar footsteps of a guard approaching. A small, petite girl appeared from the darkness, clutching the rough stone tray with his food on it. She crouched down, and slid the tray into the cell. Killian stared at her. Did his little sister always bring him the food? That… didn’t seem right…
Her red curls shifted as she looked up and grinned at him, and Killian was struck by her eyes. Bright green. Were they always green? Killian closed his eyes, struggling to remember. This was the worst of all: forgetting the faces of his family. But… no, he was pretty sure she had blue eyes, like him. He opened his eyes and looked into hers; They were blue, of course they were. Why wouldn’t they be?
Who the hell was Silas?
What? Killian shook his head, clearing the strange thought from his mind, and looked back at Velaru. “Hey, Kill.” She said, a smile quirking her features. “Surprised to see me, huh? I would be too. After all,” she giggled, one small hand covering her mouth for a moment, “You did kill me.” She shrugged dramatically. “Pretty weird, huh?”
I committed a crime… I would do it again if I had to.
Killian frowned. When had he said that? He looked around, noticing for the first time how hazy the walls around him were. What color had Velaru’s eyes been? Had they been… pale violet? That seemed right. He reached up, pulled at the thick iron around his throat. If the cell around him was getting more indistinct by the minute, the manacle was as solid as ever.
He looked back at Velaru, back into her violet eyes. The mist was heavy in the air behind her. The mist was heavy everywhere around them, heavy everywhere in Daisy.
Killian stood up, the chain pulling taught at his neck, and stared down at the form of his sister. “Violet eyes? Don’t be absurd. She had blue eyes, you bastard.” And he threw himself against the strength of the chain, muscles straining as he fought to free himself. He reached his arm back, wrapping a length of the chain around his wrist, and continued pulling. Velaru had vanished, and a short distance away, Killian could see a winged figure stepping closer to Silas.
Killian put his head down, dug his heels into the ground, and pulled against the chain. He could never have broken the chain back when he’d been in the real Seven, but since his release, he had spent every day training his body to be the fastest it could be, the strongest it could be. Killian let out a guttural roar as the chain finally snapped [Bull’s Strength], and his sudden freedom sent him hurling forward. He turned the sudden momentum into a charge, keeping his footing [Cat’s Grace] as he rushed towards the winged person, drawing his blade.
The figure never took its eyes off of Silas, even as Killian’s blade severed its head from its neck. Killian stumbled to a halt, panting heavily and falling to one knee. He lifted his sword and planted it into the ground, and leaned on it for a moment. He glanced up at the wide-eyed Silas, and gave a weak, half-smile as he slowly stood back up.
“Silas, darling, what took you so long?” he asked wryly.
In the mist all around them, more shapes and figures were forming.
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Post by Caedes Oleander on Dec 29, 2022 15:11:51 GMT -5
His breath comes slowly; each step forward from the Aasimar is met with one step back. His pale gaze meets a bright gold; and the Aasimar’s long hair angles as he tilts his head. “ The rest of your family could get it right… why couldn’t you?” All the things which Caedes has always wanted to say; every insult laced in venom on his tongue; withers the longer Caelum keeps speaking. His chest tightens with fury, heart clawing cold with a bitter hatred, but he can’t find the words. In the light— where’s the light coming from?— beyond the fog, something sharp glints in the Aasimar’s hands. His golden eyes lower, and Caedes’ hesitant gaze follows; the Aasimar’s tan fingers running across a crimson stained dagger; was he holding that before? His throat feels tight; remnants of that night long ago stack upon the vision before him. “ I brought your mother a gift that night,” Caedes feels a heat rise in his chest, vision blurring as he takes another step back. The Aasimar’s silhouette darkens, golden eyes piercing back at him as he looks back up; his silhouette overlaps with memories of an Aasimar at the bottom of the staircase in his home. “ She cried when she saw your father. She knew what came next… and so did you.” Against his own will, Caedes shakes his head; but he’s not necessarily sure what it is he’s disagreeing with. He did know. He always knew. He was never crawling out of Darkveil with his life, no matter how hard he fought for it.
None of them were. “ No…?” The fog dissipates; and Caedes finds himself back in that room in his family home when the past overlaps with the present. In the glint of candlelight beneath the doorframe, the Aasimar pulls back his blade and steps through. “ Then I can remind you.” —- except he doesn’t have the chance. Violently, the illusion shatters like a glass mirror; Caedes sucks in a sharp breath as the darkness washes from his vision, replaced by fog and mist. The head of the Aasimar falls to the ground with a hefty thud, and the rest of it disintegrates into ashen mist, slithering back into the void of haze like a serpent. And like the snuff of a light, Caedes snaps out of a trance. He blanches, looking sharply at Killian as he speaks; but reality comes back quickly when he sees the movement in the fog. He reaches up, breathing a sheepish laugh as he wipes unwanted moisture from beneath his cheeks with the back of a hand. He looks away, turning his back to the man to avoid his eyes; and steps back, closer to the other man, eyes scanning the mist as figures in the fog rise from the earth; blobbish at first, but gradually taking on humanoid shapes beyond their line of vision. He’s still rattled from reliving some of his last moments, but he can’t linger on it— lest he end up putting the both of them in danger. He makes a note to thank Killian if they make it out alive, but for the time being, Caedes sweeps his cloak back over his shoulders, slipping his throwing knives between the gaps of his fingers.
“Killian, sweetheart, I didn’t realize we were already on such close terms... You move fast, don't you?” His voice is jesting— sarcastic— despite their serious situation. “But pray tell, what’s our plan, here— clear a path? Take them as they come?”
The figures beyond the mist twitch and snap at awkward angles as they form, eyes gleaming purple beyond the fog when they open.
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Post by Killian Glae on Jan 1, 2023 17:03:22 GMT -5
Killian tugged at the iron collar still encircling his neck, a few links of chain hanging behind him like an avant garde fashion statement. Nothing to do about it now. He stepped back as Silas did the same, the two of them back to back.
“Oh you know, Silas babe. One never knows when one might die. Have to move fast-” A figure came lumbering out of the mist, eyes glowing purple, mouth grotesquely agape and full of sharp teeth. Aside from those ghoulish features it almost looked like… Barlow, the baker from Kenting. As it approached Killian, its head was quickly separated from its torso by his blade. “... because you never know how long you’ve got with someone.”
Killian had intended that last line as a joke, but it came out with a heavier bitterness than he expected. More figures were stumbling out of the mist. Many Killian knew, but there were others… Noblemen and women, others with red sashes around their waists. All had the same distorted features as Barlow.
“Clear a path? A path to where?” The mist was thick all around them, and Killian could see nothing past it. He had no idea what was around them, no idea what direction he was in after being pulled into the mists earlier. He twirled his wrist, the sword in his hand spinning in a small flourish, then settled into a basic defensive stance. His feet were spread to maintain balance, both hands gripped the hilt of his longsword, which he held directly center, tilted slightly forward. Perfect for blocking and deflecting, though somewhat lacking in precision strikes. But it was a form that could be easily switched into another stance, and was perfect for back to back fighting.
“Silas… “ whatever he had been about to say was cut off as the mist-born creatures rushed forward and the fight began. As Killian slashed aside grasping hands and cut away snarling mouths, there was no denying how solid these illusions were. Not truly illusions at all, then. Manifestations.
Killian blocked a sudden sword strike from a Manifestation that resembled a guard from the Seven, and maneuvered his sword in such a way as to send it tumbling off to the side and behind him- Perfect for Silas to finish off. A red-sashed figure leaped through the mists and fell towards Killian, who pushed away from Silas to twist and deliver a slash that cut cleanly through it. The two halves of the Manifestation fell to the ground with a heavy sound, before slowly fading away into mist. Before Killian could resume his position at Silas’ back, a Manifestation of a pale woman in dancer’s silks lunged at the other man. “Silas!” Killian shouted.
It was at that moment that Killian knew his name wasn’t really Silas. The man was skilled in his bladework, his reactions quick and fluid. Yet when Killian shouted out the warning, there was a momentary delay before Silas reacted to the shout. A moment where he had to process that the name was his. Killian smiled grimly, and turned to deliver two quick slashes [Double Strike], downing two Manifestations in a single moment.
In the momentary respite before another Manifestation attacked him, Killian glanced around. The mist was flowing past him in an endless motion. Flowing past him… The mist was flowing from a single direction.
“Silas!” Killian shouted, deflecting another Manifestation- This one looked like his mother, but he steeled himself and pushed her aside. “This way!” When Silas signaled his understanding, Killian pushed forward against the wave of Manifestations, cutting a path in the direction the mist was coming from…
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Post by Caedes Oleander on Jan 5, 2023 20:26:49 GMT -5
A dry laugh escapes between Caedes’ lips. “Killian, love—” He throws his arm forwards, and Caedes flings a knife out into the mist; one of the figures, mouth agape, eyes jutting at awkward angles; jolts as the blade cracks between their brows. “—you may have a point.” The figure crumples into a heap, folding like a pile of fabric.
Caedes slips another knife from his belt, brows furrowing as the mist grows quiet for but a moment. “Hell if I know— anywhere else— can you see any high ground?” A funny thing to ask, because Caedes can’t see shit from where they’re standing— and he highly doubts Killian can, either. “I’m not keen on the idea of getting swarmed; who knows how many of these things there are.”
Only briefly does Caedes offer Killian a glance when he hears his persona’s name— but his attention is quickly displaced. A figure cuts through the mist, claws outstretched— only to be met by a knife into its too-large, gaping mouth. As it collapses in front of him, Caedes’ eyes narrow sharply; silver hair draped around her slender face, and draped in a black gown; he can recognize his mother all too well.
He sucks in a breath as she collapses into a mist, and falls back into an alert stance as the rush of boots comes from his left; he spins, clawing out in the same way that the figures have been clawing at them. Eyes turning black around his pale irises, shadow swaths and clings to his arm like tar; he rips through the figure with sharpened, shadowed claws. Mist pours from the open wound, and a woman in villager’s clothing collapses into fog.
When he blinks, the shadows fall away from his arm, just in time to catch the guard that Killian sends his way. Clasping the manifestation by the neck with one hand, he slams one of his throwing knives up into the soft palate beneath its jaw. He rears back to slam the flat of his boot into the guard’s stomach, knocking it back.
It dissipates into mist as it collapses backwards, allowing Caedes to retrieve his knife with a carefully timed snatch from mid-air. Silas! It takes a moment nearly too long for him to register in this moment of high stakes, but Caedes’ pale eyes flicker in realization as he spins around. The knife slips from his palm, striking the woman in dancer’s silks in the chest; he sees her stagger back, silver hair draped over pale skin.
She lunges forwards again, and Caedes tightens his jaw as he launches forwards and cuts through her neck; mist pours from the wound, and she collapses into a swath of dark fog. Caedes steps back to return to where he can feel Killian’s presence; he glances over his shoulder when he hears his persona’s name, but is quick to return to the defense.
Another figure— one he recognizes, sashed in red— collapses into mist as Caedes rips through its neck with one of his knives, “Right behind you,” he agrees, throwing a glance over his shoulder as Killian starts forcing through the wave of manifestations. From the side, a manifestation in villager’s clothing lunges in Killian’s direction, but jolts when a knife sticks into the side of its cheek. It collapses into mist, slithering off into…. into the direction they’re heading.
Ah.
“Keep pushing, I’ve got your back.” he mutters, striking out at a lunging villager just at his side in defense of himself.
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Post by Killian Glae on Jan 8, 2023 22:48:18 GMT -5
With Silas covering his back, Killian slashed forward, never once looking back; He had every faith that Silas would keep him safe. The manifestations kept throwing themselves at him as he marched his way deeper in the direction the mist was flowing from, and he kept cutting them apart or watching as throwing knives appeared in their flesh.
And then suddenly something was grappling him from behind, elongated fingers grasping at his mouth, his eyes. And then it was gone, dissipating into mist. He didn’t bother glancing back at Silas; The other man was doing his job, and Killian needed to continue doing his. With a loud growl, he launched himself forward once more, increasing the speed of his strikes until his blade was almost a blur as he swung at twice the speed of an average fighter [Double Strike].
He didn’t know how long he pressed forward, but suddenly a house loomed out of the shadows and mist in front of him. He sliced apart one final manifestation and bounded up the steps to the door, glancing back as he tried the knob. As the door opened, he could see Silas, a few steps behind. The other man was dashing closer, but behind him…
Killian gritted his teeth, released the door handle, and surged forward, chopping down at Silas’ position. As Silas darted past him, and the manifestation took his place, Killian’s sword cleaved through its head. And then he was running, back up the stairs, into the house, and Silas was slamming the door and the two of them threw themselves against it.
But nothing tried to force its way in. Killian glanced at Silas, breathing hard, and slowly pushed himself off of the door. It didn’t shake from any sudden pressure from the other side. In fact, all the sounds of the manifestations were gone. Killian didn’t like that. Predators only gave up the chase when a bigger predator appeared.
He looked around. The walls of the house were shifting, never quite solid. At times it looked like the simple wood and brick of a normal village house, at other times it looked more like a nobleman’s house. Occasionally, amidst its flickering, the walls darkened into the stone walls of the Seven. Mist poured off the ever-changing walls, and Killian followed the trail with his eyes, and found himself looking at… The door in the back was open, and Killian could just make out a set of steps descending down into darkness. The mist was flowing in and out of the doorway, like some threshold to a mist-covered Hell.
Killian glanced at Silas. “That… seems like a good bet.” He took a step forward and glanced down the stairs. Darkness and mist. “I knew this place was haunted.” He muttered. He switched his sword to his right hand for a moment, wiped the sweat off of his sword hand, then transferred the sword back. He glanced at his companion.
“Well, Silas… uh… Sexy? Shit, I don’t know. You win.” He indicated to the descent with his blade. “Ready to face the Big Bad Evil Guy?”
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Post by Caedes Oleander on Jan 10, 2023 21:23:45 GMT -5
Caedes lunges through the door after Killian, ducking beneath the man’s arm as he pulls back and swings forwards in a strike behind him. He hears the thrum of Killian’s sword meeting skull, but it fades all too quickly; as though nothing was ever there to begin with. Caedes skids to a stop only long enough to check on Killian; chest heaving with exertion as he watches the manifestation collapse into a pool of mist beneath his blade. The moment Killian starts moving again, Caedes is after him. Bounding up the stairs on the way up, he rushes through the threshold and slams the door shut behind them. He holds it there, fumbling with the knives on his belt in preparation for the onslaught of manifestations outside, but… there isn’t. He breathes heavily, glancing quizzically towards Killian, before slowly pushing himself off the door. “ They’re not following?” His voice comes between staggered breaths; but whatever is repelling the manifestations outside from inside cannot be good news… speaking of which, where the hell did this house even come from? Caedes’ eyes narrow as he steps back; before him, existence flickers between his eyes— changing as though it pulls from each man’s respective memories… because one of them, Caedes recognizes as his family home. Distorted, but recognizable all the same. The pallid man holds his head with a free hand like he’s come down with a sudden headache, furrowing his brows when the buzzing starts to return; but at Killian’s voice, he looks towards the man, then looks behind them. He narrows his eyes, looking between the mist and the open doorway. “ I hate the look of that.” he remarks grimly; Caedes flips his dagger in the palm of his hand, adjusting to a more comfortable hold, when Killian speaks again. A smile cracks his expression, a puff of a laugh escaping his lips as he tilts his head to look at Killian, brows furrowed slightly— but seemingly bemused. “ Are we still doing that? Swordsman with a sense of humour; I like it.” he remarks, chuckling as he turns back to look at the door. He takes a breath, motioning for Killian to follow. “ As ready as I’ll ever be,” he agrees, taking the lead.
Mist flows like water through the threshold, cascading down stone steps that are far too deep to be natural for such a tiny village. With each step, the imagery changes: redwood stairs, cobblestone stairs, rotting planks; it’s as if the strange home itself cannot seem to decide what it is, or even where it is. With each step, the buzz grows stronger; it’s an aching pain, a pressure which threatens to burst from his chest; but Caedes grits his teeth through it. It feels like ages walking an endless nightmare in darkness; listening to the silence, nothing but a void on all sides of them. If they reach out, they would touch a wall— but it’s nothing— just space. Eventually, even the staircase threatens to flicker out of existence; in the darkness, they transition to a type of obsidian the further they go… until the mist flows forth, spreading, and erupting into a cavernous open room far beneath the earth. Like a sauna, a lavender mist covers the ground, seemingly rising from cracks in obsidian stone. Caedes stops, nearly thrown backwards by a sudden force— but not from anything down below— it’s the bellowing voice in his head that nearly knocks him over. STOP.
The pale man doubles over suddenly, grasping at the void-like walls for his balance as he steps out from the corridor and into the cavern; he clutches at the side of his head, shoulders shuddering with a wave of pain. What the hell do you mean no!?
TURN BACK. TURN BACK AT ONCE.
What?
A chill courses down his spine, ice spreading through his veins— a sudden dread, one which is not initially his, takes over. It's... oh. Oh, no. They need to leave. “Killian—” Caedes whirls around, but the moment the other man steps past the threshold, it blinks from existence. Anticipatory buzzing rings in his head, and all at once, the mist on the ground plunges towards a single location; Caedes whirls back around, scowling as he takes a pace back. The obsidian floor cracks underneath its hooves as it forms from lavender mist that darkens as it coagulates; web-like tendrils ooze and stretch from the obsidian-like earth, forming tattered remains of a robe around a thin, gangly physique that seems to latch it to the earth, itself. In the darkness, it’s raven-toned skin creates an ominous shadow— and it’s not until a single eye opens at the top of its curved, horned head, that Caedes realizes how truly gargantuan this thing is. As though stretching from slumber, the creature extends its arms to either side; its voice is singular, but one of many that emits from a toothy maw, “Killian Glae… Caedes Oleander.” It greets them individually; its voice changes, layers of feminine and masculine tones, depending on who it speaks to. The voices send a shudder down the changeling’s spine; he flips his dagger into his palm with a steady hold.
Several of those voices, he recognizes. One of them is his father's— almost as though it’s stolen them straight from his memories. “You wouldn’t leave… without greeting your host… would you?” It's massive. The earth shakes as the demon steps towards them; obsidian cracks like glass under the weight of its hooves; it bends its gangly form, twisting in ways unearthly to look down upon them with a single, vertical red eye.
"You've come so far.... all the way to Daisy..." Bones crack in its neck as it distorts, horns scraping against the ground as it twists at a 180 angle. Caedes defiantly tightens his grip on his dagger.
"... just to die on my doorstep?"
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Post by Killian Glae on Jan 10, 2023 22:29:23 GMT -5
Killian gripped his sword with hands suddenly coated in sweat. This… this was no demon. This was something… Far, far worse.
He opened his mouth to try to get a word past his dry throat, coughed, swallowed, and tried again. “Wh… what… who… are you?”
And then the creature blurred, and was in front of Killian, lifting him up by the throat with a single hand, fingers wrapping fully around his neck, enclosing on the other side. It straightened to its full height, bringing Killian to it's eye level some fifteen feet in the air, and as it locked gazes with him, he could see that within the gleaming red eye, hundreds of smaller eyes looked out, all shades of red and yellow.
“I…” It started, and then Silas was dashing forward, striking at the creature. It's long arm snapped out, moving far faster than Silas could ever hope to dodge, and it's fist cracked into his chest. Killian could only watch helplessly as Silas went flying through the air, a bloody ragdoll that hit the wall with the sound of even more bones breaking.
It had never even turned its gaze away from Killian, and finished it's sentence. “... am Absolute.”
Absolute… the name was a pit of ice in Killian’s heart.
The creature pulled Killian in closer, and whispered directly in his face, teeth gleaming an inch away, the eye, that singular eye, pulling him in…
“I am Absolute, and I am the Devil that will rule all this world has. You may be first among my harbingers. Tell them all, Killian Glae. Every mage, every alchemist, every fighter and demon and angel in the land. Tell the Witch, tell the Necromancer, tell the Archivist god and the Entrepreneur with her little metal friends and the Devilborn with a devil. Tell them all to prepare… To bow. To serve.
… To Worship.”
The Devil known as Absolute twisted grotesquely and released Killian, sending him flying at the wall next to Silas. Killian could feel multiple bones shatter from the impact before darkness claimed his mind. His limp body dropped to the ground, broken and twisted, next to Silas, their blood seeping across the floor and mixing together.
And in the village of Daisy, not a thing stirred.
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Post by Caedes Oleander on Jan 11, 2023 19:14:03 GMT -5
…........................................................... This body only feels the pain. Within bleeding pools of crimson, shadows flicker amongst hues of red glinting in the silver light of the crescent moon far above. The darkness shifts, warbling like the remnants of a campfire across the changeling’s broken body; when they take a breath, ripples form against the surface of crimson. Eyes of pitch black open; a void despite the light of the moon. Blood sloughs from the side of the pale man’s face, tracing cuts and splits as they slowly rise; their vision trembles against ripples of crimson. As they rise, their appearance begins to shift; on shaking legs, they change still, until they have become unrecognizable in the shadows of the night. The pain is searing. Nigh unbearable for her vessel. Broken. Battered. Bleeding. Like a newborn deer, her legs give beneath her and drop her weight over bent legs. “ Absolute...” a feminine voice layers overtop a masculine, disjointed in its union; black hair frames her desaturated, undying features as she stares out into the darkness of Daisy. The fog is gone. The house is gone. The obsidian room is as though it never existed. The village is leveled. Her web is irreparably damaged; hot fury bleeds into her still veins. There is nothing; the only evidence of Absolute’s malpractice are the broken bodies of the two men left for wolves and carrion birds. She can no longer feel its presence, the true breadth of its power masked so far beneath the earth that even she… she has misjudged, greatly, nearly sacrificing the only thing tying her to this mortal plane in a bid to kill what she thought only a mischievous entity… What is so powerful that even she cannot predict it against her web? Her head and eyelids droop, heavy over the thick wash of agony she shares with her vessel. Slick droplets of red follow unbrushed tresses of obsidian, dropping like crimson rain into puddles around her awkwardly bent knees. The pain burns, the broken bones scream, but there is no life left for this vessel to lose so long as she owns it. It cannot die until she cuts its last thread herself. Blinking into the darkness, she turns her eyes to the swordsman beside her; broken, bloodied, beaten… she sees the rise of his chest stutter with each breath, barely keeping up with what he’s already lost. " Killian… Killian Glae…" She closes her eyes, tracing the webs in the darkness with shadowed claws beyond this plane of existence, and following the pulse of his lifeline. Here, it has thinned… but it is not meant to break… Not yet. Her head tilts back, pitch black eyes opening to the heavens as the shadows coagulate, sloughing from the broken debris of a village that once was, until the silhouette of shadowed claws form against the shoulder blades of her back. Flickering shadows emit from their clawed tips, and although her vessel’s arms hang uselessly at their sides, she pushes herself to stand through shadow. (1)Her web has broken. There is no repair for it now. The souls of Daisy are gone— they are reaped by another. Gods help their souls, however merciful those bastards may be to those who were lost and forgotten in the aftermath of what they have created. In the end, she can only preserve what has been left.
A sharp gasp cuts into the dawn, and the changeling jolts awake so quickly that he sends himself into a wretched fit of coughing and wheezing before sunup. He deflates against the tree behind him, head spinning, pale eyes panicked and stunned; a single red eye flickers in his memory, walls of obsidian closing in, the hush of a thousand voices demanding to be worshiped. Hush. It is gone.
Caedes shudders; the ache that soaks into every muscle and bone in him is an unspeakable sort of hurt. It… What?
It has left.
…
You failed. Spectacularly; rest, now.
I have brought you far from that place, and given you what I can, for now.
Nothing remains in Daisy but broken memories of what was.
The pale man, stained crimson in patches and hues, winces; a heavy feeling of inadequacy settles in his chest. He leans slowly back against the base of a gnarled oak; his eyes are distant as he tries to process everything through the fog of pain. Its voice lies distant in the back of his mind; hushed and malevolent whispers in a dark room. … You sent me there. You knew?
No.
What do you mean no?
I did not know. Whatever it is, it is beyond my own comprehension.
For a few moments, he sits there in silence and simply... processes this information. It’s not until Killian begins to stir that he even remembers the man is there. Caedes doesn’t bother moving, simply allows his head to turn to face him. Despite everything that has occurred; despite his own situation; the changeling’s voice is grim, but painfully sarcastic upon the man’s awakening. “Oh, good morning, sunshine.... You look like hell.”
(1) Fiend Level II, Extra Arms
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Post by Killian Glae on Jan 11, 2023 20:58:07 GMT -5
The darkness that overtook Killian as he lay there, dying, was slowly but surely cast away by the rising sun. He cracked open a single eye, dried blood keeping the other one sealed shut. He thought he had heard a voice… Someone didn’t let him die.
He turned his stiff neck at Silas’ greeting. Pain blossomed throughout his body- He might have been alive, but he could feel the fire of broken bones throughout his body. He gritted his teeth, however, and slowly sat up.
“You…” His voice was weak, cracking and dry. “You… don’t… look… too much better.” It was a lie. Silas looked far better than he had any right to look, and certainly far better than Killian must have looked.
Killian slowly, carefully shifted his body until he could lean against the tree next to Silas. As he leaned against the bark, the broken bones in his back screamed, but he honestly didn’t have the strength to change his position again.
They sat there, watching the sun rise over a new day, lost in their thoughts. Absolute…
Absolute.
When the sun was high enough in the sky to give Killian the courage to speak of what happened, he told Silas what the Devil had said. The other man listened, expression grim, though unsurprised.
Morning turned to afternoon, Killian basking in the sun’s warmth, Silas putting his hood up against the light. Silas… Killian turned his thoughts to the man. He still didn’t know if he was a man of honor, or a dark blade in the shadows, but one thing was certain; He’d rushed at the Devil without hesitation when Killian was in it’s grasp, he’d had Killian’s back countless times, and he apparently had not abandoned him afterwards.
Killian could trust the man.
There was one thing though… Something Absolute had said…
Killian smiled into the sunlight, and spoke to his companion.
“You know, Caedes is a much better name than Silas...”
Beneath the ground and across the dimensions, a Devil stood, mist pouring off it as it surveyed the Hell it lived in. It’s singular, vertical red eye took in the flames and stone and lava, and then it opened it’s mouth and let out a hissing laugh.
Soon. Soon it would rule all. Soon… It’s power would be...
Absolute.
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