Fourth Floor - Mad the Swine
Characters: Reed Heretic_Hamlet, Monarch Deepvoicedlady, Crow moonlit_mirage, Knight Pathetic_knight
Date/Time: September 25, sometime near midday
Location: Fourth floor... and beyond
Rating: PG-13 for violence and rather harsh language.
Summary: The unlucky four step out of the elevator and into the fray...
------
"Lord *******! Argath!"
The cold and ice stung the eyes long before the scene came into focus, with snow long-since frozen over crunching underfoot. By the time he'd caught his footing once again he nearly had to lean on the frigid stone of the keep for support. Fortune be damned, the standoff had already ensued- A caped soldier- bearing the sigils of rank and knighthood-presided over a small troupe of soldiers, their eyes fixed upon the top of the powder silo; and there, a lone knight- suited with but his rusted armor, his ragged green cape, and a single blade, held a brunette in a violet dress at swordpoint.
The sight was enough to bring an ally sprinting to Reed's side, dressed in the same cadet's uniform as he. The troops were of no importance to him, it seemed- his attention shot up to the wretched hostage, and both found their eyes going wide in terror. "Tietra!"
"Delita-!" The girl wrenched herself forward to return his glance, though it only seemed to strengthen the tattered knight's resolve. He held his blade held tight its touch against her neck, barking out another demand, his commanding tone doing nothing to hide his desperation. "Withdraw at once! I'll not warn you again!"
The commanding knight would not be swayed. His countenance changed to one of grim determination, shifting upon his saddle and turning to his cohort. "...This changes nothing, Argath. Loose your attack!"
But, as that blond knight beside him steadied his crossbow, he had all too keen of a glint in his eye- a glimmer of malice that Reed could spy even across the courtyard. His stomach turned. His heart stilled in the cold.
And 'Argath' pulled the trigger.
His first shot struck the brunette girl square in the chest. The 'villain' who held her fast found his grip weakening, his horror present in his voice and wide, awestruck eyes. "Gods have mercy...!" But his words were torn from his lungs only moments later, a second arrow buzzing past his hostage's slumped shoulder and burying into his chest. His body buckled against the door to the keep, his grip releasing entirely as the girl fell flat upon the catwalk, murmured words leaving her chest. "D-Delita...I'm...sorry.."
She fell silent. Delita's legs shook, then gave out from under him, unable to move his gaze until the last touch of vitality had faded from her eyes. "TIETRA!"
Reed's hand trembled with fury, hovering besides his scabbard, fighting to restrain himself as his stomach fought to restrain its disdian. A befuddled fury that only intensified when his gaze fell upon the sigiled commander at the tower's base, who had already diverted his attentions to an arriving messenger. "Lord Commander! More enemies scale the pass! Two score, mayhap three. A man of Wiegraf's look moves among them!"
Said commander gave one last cursory glance at the grisly scene, his eyes only meeting Reed's own with a gruff leer for a moment before his back was turned to the scene, only a final command given to all those now behind him. "Very well. We go to greet them at once. I leave the rest to you, Argath." He rode off, the envoy in stride.
But the hardier knight in green did not still atop the walk. Struggling with what little strength of his remained, he crawled through the storeroom door, hissing bloodied epiphets between clenched teeth. "Curse... the lot of you..." Before the words left his lips, the door closed in his wake.
"TIETRA!"
It was only then where the other cadet would find his strength returning, rising quickly to his feet and shoving Reed aside, readying his scabbard upon his waist, his breaths and eyes seeping with venom. He only managed a step before the blond bowman's eyes met his own... that calm smile and sinister glint returning to his features. "And where do you presume to go, Delita?"
Argath's words only brought the blade sooner from Delita's waist. His sword was bared, his hands already twitching in anticipation of bloodshed "You whoreson dog...!"
Yet in spite of the archer's deeds, the others around him were quick to step into file before him, swords and shields already at the ready. Reed's heart sank once more; his eyes were drawn to the markings upon their armor... the same as his own. Argath's words were as nonchalant as before, another bolt loaded and bow at the ready. "It is to be a fight, then? I'm only too happy to oblige..."
"Z*****g...D******g..." Reed steadied himself one last time. The anger had passed- all that remained was solitude, spreading hollow chills through his chest as he gazed at the tracks left by the knights' commander. "How could you-..."
But the glint of light from a keen blade and the sound of drawn steel roused him from his musings. Argath gave a quick whistle to bring his men into formation, then fell into place behind his knights. "Come! I will show you that common blood makes naught but a common man!"
Reed's hesitation- or what little he had left within him- escaped him with a final sigh. His sword was held aloft.
This one... he was prepared to kill.
For once, his heart and his body were one; his sword moved as though it was a part of his body, his charges passing through the fray without impediment, even as his thoughts mulled and turned within his head, confusion and loneliness only yielding more anger... anger that seemed to fill and fortify his very veins, his gaze reddening and grip strengthening with every step that drew him closer. Even as he and what few allies he found among him- most of all, the rust-haired swordsman at his side all along- fought furiously to gain ground, the questions brought about anger that bloodshed or combat alone would not quell. "Why did you do it, Argath?! What moved your hand?!"
Yet, from his position behind the front, peppering and occasionally breaking the shields of Reed's men with his arrows, Argath was all too happy to indulge his quaint curiosities. "Your lord brother's orders, *****! What else? Would you have had us kneel before them, and offer up the Order's honor in exchange for the life of some common wench?"
"She was Delita's sister!" His words were met with a laugh that had him ram back one of the knights' blows with his own shield.
"Is it not time you awoke to the fact that we are different from them? They are of lesser birth, and so meant to play lesser roles in life! Such is the nature of fate, *****! That commoner and his sister ought never have been here at all! Had they been mongering flowers on some street corner, she would yet live!"
Almost to punctuate his thoughts, an arrow was launched from the rear- one that Reed only ducked aside by scant inches.
"And what of you, *****? Why do you now raise arms against us? To turn your blade on us is treason! You would turn your cloak and name yourself a traitor to the Order of the Northern Sky?"
"But - the Order would never forgive what you've done!"
"Does your naivety know no end? How ironic is fate, that one such as you
would be born a Beoulve!"
The words brought an enraged cry and a commotion across the court- Reed's rusty-haired comrade drove his blade into one of the guardian knights' thighs, tossing the warrior aside in his frenzied rush towards their commander. "Make your peace with the gods, Argath! You die by my hand!" Yet, Argath only laughed grimly, stepping up nearer to the catwalk- out of the fray, and reloading his bow quite leisurely as the enlisted ranks battled in the fray below.
"My birth was not of my choosing!"
Argath: Spare me the bleating, you are no sheep! You are a Beoulve, self-
chosen or not! Yours is a line of champions, of lords among men! To do great
deeds is your destiny, and your duty as well. Much is there that cannot be
done, save by your hand. It falls to you to see it so - to act where we cannot.
"I will not be made a puppet!"
"You? A puppet? Don't be absurd! The puppets stand before you, *****! Long have we danced for House Beoulve, that it might reign on history's stage. A dance that serves our ends, to be sure. The Beoulve name is our shield, behind whose aegis we've long thrived. It is the way of things! People are used, and use others in turn. How do you think you came to be where you are? You are loath to be used, yet you fain use others. Even your so-called friend Delita!"
"What do you mean--" His words were cut short by a resounding snap; another bolt fired, and he flinched at the sound, but this time it was Delita who would bear the injury, the bolt sinking into his shoulder with a hissing yelp. His shield was dropped, no strength in his arms to hold it aloft. Reed found his path diverted, making tracks towards his wounded friend. "Delita, you're hurt!"
But even the look he was given in return when Delita's head finally rose was enough to make his blood run cold. Whether it was pain or anger that shook his ally's frame and leaked the tears that froze upon his cheeks, he would never know. It was enough, all the same, to make him shy away in uncertainty, even terror at the words he was met with. "Speak not to me! When Argath falls, my vengeance turns on you, *****!"
"...Delita..."
His words cut him deeper than any blade. He froze in place, but his body found motion at the crackle of the air and the scent of ozone shortly before an enlisted sorceror's bolt of magical lightning wracked his frame with pain, trying desperately to steel himself against the convulsions in the seconds that followed. The pain barely registered before he returned to his feet, his eyes narrowing at another cackle from above. Another tackle drove another poor knight to his back; at long last, he was nearing that damned cur; he might be able to make haste while he busied himself with his gloating...
Gloating that Argath was more than happy to provide as he wound his bow anew, grinning with glee as he watched the fallen cadet struggle to stand. "Does it grieve you, Delita, to see the depths of your own weakness laid bare? No mere commoner can leave his mark on history! You've not the power! Be glad you know enough to lament it. 'Tis all you can do, and more than you deserve!"
His words stoked the flames of anger; Delita summoned his strength and rose in time to fend off an incoming knight- and striking with enough force to shatter his helmet to pieces, letting him stumble past in a daze. "Is our forked tongue done flitting? What I'd hear from your lips are not words!"
Reed slowed his pace; the words of warning from a nearby sorceror's lips were quieted by his blade. He'd let them bicker, slowly rising up the barricade while Argath resumed his chiding. "Laughter, then? Be not so hasty, Delita! You'll hear that soon enough, when you are on your way to your dear sister's side!"
"I'll not be told what I will do, or when..." Delita slowly turned back to face the bowman a final time, his eyes narrowed. His words seemed to lose the edge of anger, a frightening lack of... anything taking its place instead. No sorrow. No fury. He seemed almost calm in his hatred..."Not by you... nor by any other."
Argath's final taunt sunk dead within his chest with a cracking of bones, though, his crossbow slipping from his hands and dropping bloodied onto the snow. The battle ceased, all eyes upon the bridge.
And, struggling to regain his breath and still his panting as the heat and frenzy of the battle slowly died down, Reed drew his sword out from Argath's back. The body would only hit the boards dully, pitiful whimpers carrying his final words.
"N-no...Not at...the hands of...milksop rabble..."
"I'm... sorry, Delita..."
Date/Time: September 25, sometime near midday
Location: Fourth floor... and beyond
Rating: PG-13 for violence and rather harsh language.
Summary: The unlucky four step out of the elevator and into the fray...
------
"Lord *******! Argath!"
The cold and ice stung the eyes long before the scene came into focus, with snow long-since frozen over crunching underfoot. By the time he'd caught his footing once again he nearly had to lean on the frigid stone of the keep for support. Fortune be damned, the standoff had already ensued- A caped soldier- bearing the sigils of rank and knighthood-presided over a small troupe of soldiers, their eyes fixed upon the top of the powder silo; and there, a lone knight- suited with but his rusted armor, his ragged green cape, and a single blade, held a brunette in a violet dress at swordpoint.
The sight was enough to bring an ally sprinting to Reed's side, dressed in the same cadet's uniform as he. The troops were of no importance to him, it seemed- his attention shot up to the wretched hostage, and both found their eyes going wide in terror. "Tietra!"
"Delita-!" The girl wrenched herself forward to return his glance, though it only seemed to strengthen the tattered knight's resolve. He held his blade held tight its touch against her neck, barking out another demand, his commanding tone doing nothing to hide his desperation. "Withdraw at once! I'll not warn you again!"
The commanding knight would not be swayed. His countenance changed to one of grim determination, shifting upon his saddle and turning to his cohort. "...This changes nothing, Argath. Loose your attack!"
But, as that blond knight beside him steadied his crossbow, he had all too keen of a glint in his eye- a glimmer of malice that Reed could spy even across the courtyard. His stomach turned. His heart stilled in the cold.
And 'Argath' pulled the trigger.
His first shot struck the brunette girl square in the chest. The 'villain' who held her fast found his grip weakening, his horror present in his voice and wide, awestruck eyes. "Gods have mercy...!" But his words were torn from his lungs only moments later, a second arrow buzzing past his hostage's slumped shoulder and burying into his chest. His body buckled against the door to the keep, his grip releasing entirely as the girl fell flat upon the catwalk, murmured words leaving her chest. "D-Delita...I'm...sorry.."
She fell silent. Delita's legs shook, then gave out from under him, unable to move his gaze until the last touch of vitality had faded from her eyes. "TIETRA!"
Reed's hand trembled with fury, hovering besides his scabbard, fighting to restrain himself as his stomach fought to restrain its disdian. A befuddled fury that only intensified when his gaze fell upon the sigiled commander at the tower's base, who had already diverted his attentions to an arriving messenger. "Lord Commander! More enemies scale the pass! Two score, mayhap three. A man of Wiegraf's look moves among them!"
Said commander gave one last cursory glance at the grisly scene, his eyes only meeting Reed's own with a gruff leer for a moment before his back was turned to the scene, only a final command given to all those now behind him. "Very well. We go to greet them at once. I leave the rest to you, Argath." He rode off, the envoy in stride.
But the hardier knight in green did not still atop the walk. Struggling with what little strength of his remained, he crawled through the storeroom door, hissing bloodied epiphets between clenched teeth. "Curse... the lot of you..." Before the words left his lips, the door closed in his wake.
"TIETRA!"
It was only then where the other cadet would find his strength returning, rising quickly to his feet and shoving Reed aside, readying his scabbard upon his waist, his breaths and eyes seeping with venom. He only managed a step before the blond bowman's eyes met his own... that calm smile and sinister glint returning to his features. "And where do you presume to go, Delita?"
Argath's words only brought the blade sooner from Delita's waist. His sword was bared, his hands already twitching in anticipation of bloodshed "You whoreson dog...!"
Yet in spite of the archer's deeds, the others around him were quick to step into file before him, swords and shields already at the ready. Reed's heart sank once more; his eyes were drawn to the markings upon their armor... the same as his own. Argath's words were as nonchalant as before, another bolt loaded and bow at the ready. "It is to be a fight, then? I'm only too happy to oblige..."
"Z*****g...D******g..." Reed steadied himself one last time. The anger had passed- all that remained was solitude, spreading hollow chills through his chest as he gazed at the tracks left by the knights' commander. "How could you-..."
But the glint of light from a keen blade and the sound of drawn steel roused him from his musings. Argath gave a quick whistle to bring his men into formation, then fell into place behind his knights. "Come! I will show you that common blood makes naught but a common man!"
Reed's hesitation- or what little he had left within him- escaped him with a final sigh. His sword was held aloft.
This one... he was prepared to kill.
For once, his heart and his body were one; his sword moved as though it was a part of his body, his charges passing through the fray without impediment, even as his thoughts mulled and turned within his head, confusion and loneliness only yielding more anger... anger that seemed to fill and fortify his very veins, his gaze reddening and grip strengthening with every step that drew him closer. Even as he and what few allies he found among him- most of all, the rust-haired swordsman at his side all along- fought furiously to gain ground, the questions brought about anger that bloodshed or combat alone would not quell. "Why did you do it, Argath?! What moved your hand?!"
Yet, from his position behind the front, peppering and occasionally breaking the shields of Reed's men with his arrows, Argath was all too happy to indulge his quaint curiosities. "Your lord brother's orders, *****! What else? Would you have had us kneel before them, and offer up the Order's honor in exchange for the life of some common wench?"
"She was Delita's sister!" His words were met with a laugh that had him ram back one of the knights' blows with his own shield.
"Is it not time you awoke to the fact that we are different from them? They are of lesser birth, and so meant to play lesser roles in life! Such is the nature of fate, *****! That commoner and his sister ought never have been here at all! Had they been mongering flowers on some street corner, she would yet live!"
Almost to punctuate his thoughts, an arrow was launched from the rear- one that Reed only ducked aside by scant inches.
"And what of you, *****? Why do you now raise arms against us? To turn your blade on us is treason! You would turn your cloak and name yourself a traitor to the Order of the Northern Sky?"
"But - the Order would never forgive what you've done!"
"Does your naivety know no end? How ironic is fate, that one such as you
would be born a Beoulve!"
The words brought an enraged cry and a commotion across the court- Reed's rusty-haired comrade drove his blade into one of the guardian knights' thighs, tossing the warrior aside in his frenzied rush towards their commander. "Make your peace with the gods, Argath! You die by my hand!" Yet, Argath only laughed grimly, stepping up nearer to the catwalk- out of the fray, and reloading his bow quite leisurely as the enlisted ranks battled in the fray below.
"My birth was not of my choosing!"
Argath: Spare me the bleating, you are no sheep! You are a Beoulve, self-
chosen or not! Yours is a line of champions, of lords among men! To do great
deeds is your destiny, and your duty as well. Much is there that cannot be
done, save by your hand. It falls to you to see it so - to act where we cannot.
"I will not be made a puppet!"
"You? A puppet? Don't be absurd! The puppets stand before you, *****! Long have we danced for House Beoulve, that it might reign on history's stage. A dance that serves our ends, to be sure. The Beoulve name is our shield, behind whose aegis we've long thrived. It is the way of things! People are used, and use others in turn. How do you think you came to be where you are? You are loath to be used, yet you fain use others. Even your so-called friend Delita!"
"What do you mean--" His words were cut short by a resounding snap; another bolt fired, and he flinched at the sound, but this time it was Delita who would bear the injury, the bolt sinking into his shoulder with a hissing yelp. His shield was dropped, no strength in his arms to hold it aloft. Reed found his path diverted, making tracks towards his wounded friend. "Delita, you're hurt!"
But even the look he was given in return when Delita's head finally rose was enough to make his blood run cold. Whether it was pain or anger that shook his ally's frame and leaked the tears that froze upon his cheeks, he would never know. It was enough, all the same, to make him shy away in uncertainty, even terror at the words he was met with. "Speak not to me! When Argath falls, my vengeance turns on you, *****!"
"...Delita..."
His words cut him deeper than any blade. He froze in place, but his body found motion at the crackle of the air and the scent of ozone shortly before an enlisted sorceror's bolt of magical lightning wracked his frame with pain, trying desperately to steel himself against the convulsions in the seconds that followed. The pain barely registered before he returned to his feet, his eyes narrowing at another cackle from above. Another tackle drove another poor knight to his back; at long last, he was nearing that damned cur; he might be able to make haste while he busied himself with his gloating...
Gloating that Argath was more than happy to provide as he wound his bow anew, grinning with glee as he watched the fallen cadet struggle to stand. "Does it grieve you, Delita, to see the depths of your own weakness laid bare? No mere commoner can leave his mark on history! You've not the power! Be glad you know enough to lament it. 'Tis all you can do, and more than you deserve!"
His words stoked the flames of anger; Delita summoned his strength and rose in time to fend off an incoming knight- and striking with enough force to shatter his helmet to pieces, letting him stumble past in a daze. "Is our forked tongue done flitting? What I'd hear from your lips are not words!"
Reed slowed his pace; the words of warning from a nearby sorceror's lips were quieted by his blade. He'd let them bicker, slowly rising up the barricade while Argath resumed his chiding. "Laughter, then? Be not so hasty, Delita! You'll hear that soon enough, when you are on your way to your dear sister's side!"
"I'll not be told what I will do, or when..." Delita slowly turned back to face the bowman a final time, his eyes narrowed. His words seemed to lose the edge of anger, a frightening lack of... anything taking its place instead. No sorrow. No fury. He seemed almost calm in his hatred..."Not by you... nor by any other."
Argath's final taunt sunk dead within his chest with a cracking of bones, though, his crossbow slipping from his hands and dropping bloodied onto the snow. The battle ceased, all eyes upon the bridge.
And, struggling to regain his breath and still his panting as the heat and frenzy of the battle slowly died down, Reed drew his sword out from Argath's back. The body would only hit the boards dully, pitiful whimpers carrying his final words.
"N-no...Not at...the hands of...milksop rabble..."
"I'm... sorry, Delita..."