The Hunt: Part Three

[Taelian Edevane]

39th of Glade, Year 114

By the time they left the sewer, it was beyond midnight. There were no signs of Dranoch within the estate, though Taelian found that immensely strange. Everything was wrong; they had a guard posted to the sewers, but not in the vestibule or halls? Something was definitely off. From the way Vendrael grimaced and almost frantically directed his gaze, Taelian could tell that he agreed.

The Ebon Knights climbed the long, opulent steps with finely carved wooden rails, reaching the summit and parting the door leading to Lady Glairen’s interior courtyard, connecting her room to the remainder of the luxurious floor plan.

There, upon entering the room, an unmistakable figure immediately came into view: a woman of dark brown hair, wearing an elegant dress fit for Nobility, leaned over the edge of a botanical display with a pail of water.

“I was wondering when you would arrive,” she said, a solemn expression covering her face. “For I have woefully feared for the sake of any man to come upon me in this time. The moment is almost near, and you bring it closer yet; I only require an ounce further of sustenance. You will be my last.”

She turned to them, standing straight, and curtsying with an empty stare. A voice echoed from the shadowy corner of the room.

“My Lady, shall I call Gratiana?” the masculine Cardinal inquired.

“No, there is no need, Randil. You and I can handle this, don’t you think? There are only four of them.”

“One of them is—“

“I am aware.”

“You fight with more honor than the remainder of your kind, that’s for certain,” Vendrael interjected. Lady Glairen smiled politely and nodded.

“Yes, well, if only you did not intend to kill me — I could have changed them. Showed them the inevitability of a revolt at the hands of men like you if we continue down this route. I would have directed our hunger outwards — to other lands, taken our prey as spoils of war; given prosperity back to the Siltori and showered them with tribute. I was once one of you, after all.”

“Anything that you once were is now long gone,” Vilara spat. “How many of us have you devoured to become as you are? A hundred thousand? Two genocides against us wasn’t enough — your vicious greed has dealt us a blow from which we will never recover!”

Tears were in her eyes. It was sorrowful, he could see; even Ebon Knight against Dranoch, many believed it was a battle between brothers of a kind. They saw the blood leeches as wayward, traitorous kin, perhaps even hopeful of their redemption. But they would never be redeemed.

“Enough. You have already dirtied the court steps with the grime of your malice and spite. Vendrael — for I know who you are — your essence will offer me the last of my progression towards becoming a Huntsman. Know that your sacrifices will not be in vain — I will save Sil-Elaine in your stead.”

[Taelian Edevane]

The fight began. Randil rose from the shadows, his chest bare; the black feather plumes were growing from along his collarbone, with mosquitos floating around him and resting against his skin. Glairen’s feathers were longer and far more grown out, enough to where she had integrated them with the design of her dress, acting as a collar on their own.

A flame-like shadow formed around the length of her fingernails, coating her fingers each in a charred black appearance. Randil called upon an entity from the Mists; a masked being with thin black limbs and a gaunt form, the mask itself opulent and colored gold. Taelian was not aware at the time, but it was an Archetype of Summoning, a Mir’ashzaj.

Vendrael swiped forward with his Enkindled axes, two Trails forming at the edge of their length and hastily pursuing Randil and his Mir'ashzaj. The undercurrent of flame was lengthy and fairly wide, a vast difference between his Trails and those crafted by an amateurish Pyromancer. Taelian stared in awe as the massive pillars of flame violently zipped across the courtyard, cindering the leaves of the botanical life they passed. The Aldir that Randil had summoned attempted to move from his position by means of upward ascension, but the Trail was too thick to easily strafe around, and had risen too high to elevate over.

The Archetype, which had only just been called, died nearly immediately. Meanwhile, Randil coated himself in a shell crafted by his own shadow, and swiftly evaded the Trails by steering his feet to the left and leaping to the ceiling. The Trails continued to pursue him by running along the wall, but as he drew them into circles they ceased their movements, meeting the extent of their possible length.

Lady Glairen was on the move. She went for the weaker ones first: Temiril and Vilara, and Taelian, of course. Randil leaped down to perform single-combat with Vendrael, who lured the Dranoch to the edge of the room to prevent his flames from searing Taelian, and more importantly the potential for either of the Dranoch to perform cheap assassinations on their adjacent foes while they dueled their main enemies. Even one more Ebon Knight lost was an end to the mission -- even Taelian. He needed to bring all of the lessons he'd learned forward, and fight Glairen as if he were an equal to the Ashwraiths beside him. He had to.

The Pyromancer focused on his own Trail. He remembered the precepts of it: smash an Enkindled weapon against the ground, in his case jabbing the end of his claymore into the concrete. As mediocre as he was in the Pyromantic art, the Ebon Knight could only force a Trail as tall and wide as a meter, if that. It would pursue Lady Glairen ten times its height in length, but that was fine -- she was close to them. It would force her to maneuver around the low-lying trail chasing after her, as the other Ebon Knights more skilled in weaponry slashed and jabbed at her from their own field positions. Vilara extended her rapier forward and sought a perfect opportunity to pierce the Dranoch with her Enkindled tip, weakening her regenerative capabilities and inflicting debilitating pain. Temiril prepared to rend her in two with his blade, and so all Taelian needed to do was provide a diversion.

[Taelian Edevane]

He beat the head of his sword against the floor. Through a small crack, a rift of fire awakened, and from it erupted a roaring line of flame that immediately went into pursuit of the Dranoch Cardinal.

Glairen leaped back, attempting to exit its effective range, but Vilara hastily cut her off by lunging forward and piercing her through the upper leg with the length of her rapier. Skewering her on the blade, she threw her weight into the lunge and forced the woman to the ground, directly into the route of the Trail.

But the woman quickly broke off the tip of the blade with a rapid strike of her claw, and moved with unheard of alacrity. She nearly vanished, mere shades of black following her movement, and within a trill she was standing a few yards before Taelian who she intended to quickly dispatch.

The movement in her leg had weakened, and near to the Siltori she began to limp; it appeared she had performed her rush with some sort of magic. Vilara's piercing strike had done well to weaken her, and Temiril took advantage of this with a horizontal swing of his blade, sweeping into a magical barrier that began to falter and shatter as he hardily pushed into the blow.

She stepped forward and swiped at Taelian, seeking for her claws to rake through his neck. The Pyromancer stepped back and created another Trail, using his fresh grasp on the technique to repeat it with greater ease. He then slashed down with his blade following a swift forward step, only for the woman to leap backwards. As she did, she extended her left claw outward and clutched her grip, a shadowy swipe from her talon-like fingernails ripping directly through Temiril's jugular.

It was an unexpected, swift blow, and with that he was dead. Vilara used the opportunity to pierce her in the back with her rapier, incorporating Emblem into the strike so that she seared through the core of the Cardinal's chest. Glairen was badly wounded, but as she laid skewered on the rapier once more, she pulled on Temiril's blood, forming a grotesque maw-like shape with the ichor and tearing through Vilara from the side. Another one of her foes, gone.

She was near death. But Taelian was on his own. Vendrael fought Randil well and had wounded him greatly, but if he altered his focus to the incumbent Huntsman, he would have been killed by her pawn. Taelian had to hold out, for the moment. Everyone was dead except for him, and the Revenant. Fear once again returned to him, but he steeled through it, widening his stance and positioning his blade to parry or riposte.

[Nyx]

Come Get Your Rewards

Experience Earned: 5/5

Magical?: 5 for Sigilic Pyromancy

Lore Earned:

Sigilic Pyromancy: Trail
Sigilic Pyromancy: Trail's Perimeters
Sigilic Pyromancy: Trail can only pursue so far
Tactics: Providing a diversion
Blades: Downward swing
Blades: Horizontal slash

Ills and Ailments: None

Loot: No

Reviewer Notes: I would be so upset by this cliff hanger if it wasn't for the fact that part four is already up. Part three and everyone is dropping like flies. Which makes sense given the context. These poor fools, they really did get screwed by fate. And poor Taelian. The only times he gets to feel emotions just haaave to be negative don't they? You just love making your character suffer, don't you? It's okay, I do too. It is rather entertaining watching Taelian struggle through a battle that he really should have died during. Just a little less luck and he might have. As always, wonderful writing. On to part four!