A Last Secret [Closed]

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A Last Secret [Closed]

Postby AmirKa » Wed Oct 12, 2005 11:16 pm

OOC: Closed.

AmirKa stood with his arms crossed tensely, his eyes staring out the window into the sun. It was about halfway down the horizon, final red rays splaying across the landscape like the scraping fingers of a man being pulled away. AmirKa thought of the rays reaching in on the sick – sick nobles, sick peasants, sick children, all huddling in huts devastated by monstrous earthquakes.

"It's best not to look, in the end. You dwell too much on what you can't change."

AmirKa's eyes lingered on the sun for a moment more, than turned to look at the voice. "Someone has to linger on them, Tyhem." He walked past the elder man to the armoire against the wall, pulling the large door open. "And with your mind busy upon unthinkable deeds, I suppose all the lingering falls to me." He grasped the scimitar and slid it through the rope belt about his waist.

He could feel Tyhem's eyes on him as he prepared. "The Queen still is not sure of your loyalty, AmirKa. The incident with the bitch usurper was...unfortunate. And I assure you, Angelique does not assign tasks – even those that may appear cruel to us – so lightly that you can dismiss them as immoral.

"Thinking yourself the fount of morality was what led to your fall in the first place."
AmirKa scowled into the darkness of the armoire, mostly at the shame that rose in his chest. So long ago since it all happened, but betrayal never swallows easy.

"It will be as She wills," AmirKa said steadily as he turned to face Tyhem. The older man's blue eyes softened for a moment.

"The reason for it truly is life and death," Tyhem said. A huge concession. AmirKa only nodded, and with a glance towards the plague-ridden homes outside - now draped in darkness - vanished in a puff of air.

---

Moments later, he was down among those houses. The word snapped back into solidity as he dropped lightly to the ground, immediately walking briskly toward the wall of the house. It had taken time to pick it out – it looked precisely like the other dilapidated, earthquake-battered hovels that populated this land. At least they still stood.

His feet crunched against the parched earth as he approached the door and slid it open. There was no lock – why would someone bother, these days? Locked doors were a formality. Immediately, he heard the wheezing of someone in one of the rooms.

I am here to kidnap your daughter, he thought, laced with an unheard apology. Swallowing his guilt, he moved quickly through the house. His red eyes darted about, cutting into the pitch dark and making out the faint outline of a frame with no door. Distantly, the wheezing stopped, led into a cough, and then began again more slowly. AmirKa moved quickly into the room.

In a small, barely-disturbed bed laid the form of a young girl. Her blond hair splashed about the pillow in ringlets, and she slept with her hands neatly over her chest. About her neck was a shimmering green brooch, which threw the rising moonlight to the corners of the room. Almost imperceptibly, AmirKa saw her chest rise and fall.

"What could you possibly know?" he whispered into the silence, and then realized that the silence had changed. The wheezing had stopped, and there was something else, too... Quickly, he drew his scimitar and turned to the doorway, but it was too late – the plague-ridden father connected something hard and blunt with AmirKa's temple, whose legs went limp. He tumbled to the floor, part stunned and part angry. How could he be so stupid, he thought through the fog of his mind. To let himself lose his senses enough that a sick human could sneak up on him was unthinkable. There was something else, something was wrong...

"What she knows," hissed the father in a wheezing, breathless voice, "is not for you, nor me, nor any but the One to know." AmirKa struggled to gain control of himself, and managed to lift his eyes toward the man. The swing had shook a pendant loose from inside his shirt, and AmirKa's eyes widened as he saw it was a likeness of a man's ear to the ground – a relic of Leto. The man quickly shoved it back in his shirt, and AmirKa caught the glimpse of a dagger in his hand.

"It seems pointless to murder when we're all so near to being doomed," he said weakly, spinning the knife in his hand to face downward, "but I guess some things can't wait." He raised the knife just as AmirKa realized what the other thing was and rolled toward the bed.

A ball of fire ripped through the side of the house, plowing into the floor and sending debris flying into the air where he had been lying. The father gave a yelp and fell back. Shocked back into awareness by the electric feeling of sorcery in the air, AmirKa stood up and shoved his scimitar in his belt. He felt the hair on the back of his neck jump again, and he quickly leaped on top of the bed. He briefly registered shock that the girl was still sleeping, but he suppressed the thought for a more calm time. He grabbed the girl, threw her over his shoulder, and dove out through the newly-made hole in the wall. He and the girl were propelled out the door by another explosion behind them, and AmirKa hit the ground running as the fireballs fell around him.
-AmirKa
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Postby Melchior » Thu Oct 13, 2005 10:04 pm

The recent earthquakes had propelled sections of the city skyward, creating a valley city where once there had been flatlands. On one of the recently created hills stood a short boy, dancing merrily as the fireballs rained down around him. Red light swam around him, flowing from his spasmodically moving hands and fading moments afterwards. Still twirling, his tiny, high-pitched voice moved only feet away from it before it was drowned in the carnage.

"Fire the cannons, ring the bells, send the Angies to their hells!" He laughed gleefully and continued the chant, explosions punctuating the beats of his words. With each swoop of his arm he felt power course up from somewhere, fling through his arm, and the power of Barnabas ripple through the air. He was distantly aware that someone might consider this a "bad" act – but in the end, anything that allowed him to wield this kind of power could not be so bad.

Actually, it had become easier lately. With villages emptying from the plagues, he didn't have to feel like he was doing something wrong by blowing up villages. If it weren't enough that Barnabas, giver of all power, had ordered it, he actually felt purpose here. He was leveling this place of destruction and death – conquering one kind of death by becoming another.

"And people are used to this kind, at least," he whispered. The rings of red around his hands ceased, and the sky grew back to a murky blueness as the fireballs relented. He took a deep breath and cracked his knuckles, staring down at the city. Far be it to question Barnabas for his orders, but goodness. What a hideous, dilapidated city. Why bother?

And then, he saw a man – a strange man, in loose clothes, with a girl flung over his shoulder. He was running out of one of the ruined houses, skipping lightly on the ground with a remarkable speed.

Melchior grinned as the red circles reformed around his hands.

"Playtime."
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Postby Rinnalt » Thu Oct 13, 2005 10:10 pm

He'd been alone for days longer than he wanted to count, but it didn't mean he was unable to sense the wrong in the air, heavy as it was. He hadn't seen a bed in weeks, but if he knew any more, he'd be glad of that, and happier still that he'd only traded air with trees and animals.

The hood of his cloak was pulled, as always, low over his eyes. It was far too warm for his current clothing, but he'd gotten used to the constant feeling of damp and heat hovering against his skin. Besides, he reminded himself, that amount of moisture can probably count for at least a quarter of a decent bath.

His smile at the thought was typical, full of sardonic cheer.

---

The first vestiges of civilisation he'd seen in several days were not promising: doors were swung open on their hinges, fields were barren and scorched. He'd smelled the flames on the wind, but had considered that nothing more than one of the typical autumn rites.

The peasants never needed much of an excuse to set things on fire, after all.

He was having his doubts now, though. It was likely, too, that he'd be accused of causing the damage, were someone to fall in beside him on the road. That was how things happened. He hadn't gotten his name for nothing.

Well, actually... He paused to peer over a fence and down into the blackened earth. I did, in fact, get it for absolutely nothing. Was rather like it had been passed down as an order from on high, as I remember. Happened all at once, if I am recalling the past accurately.

His recollections were, as always, perfectly correct.

What bothered him more at the moment, though, was the fact that he knew no one was going to cross his path - not now, not in the next several miles. As soon as that idea entered his head, he began to see what his eyes had refused to recognise before: the bodies, grey and indistinct, but fully human, even from his distance.

They were awkwardly placed, staggered around the buildings and the fields as though something in the sky had dropped them without thought. They were contorted, most of them.

Like they had been fighting.

Like they had been screaming.

He saw no reason to approach any nearer; the closest one was ten feet away, and that was frightening enough. He had little enough experience with death, though rumours of it usually trailed his passage no matter what protestations he made.

The ground began to shake. That, he could dismiss; it had happened earlier.

Unless my reputation has preceeded me and grown its own limbs of death and doom, I think it's fair to say I'm not the only terror around here anymore...
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Postby AmirKa » Thu Oct 13, 2005 10:36 pm

left, left, right, dive

AmirKa's mind was on autopilot. With only the barest training in anything related to sorcery, he could barely feel the fireballs in his mind before the heat of them was on his body. Coupled with the oddly still weight draped over his shoulder, and it was down to milliseconds when he darted out of a fireballs path. It would be so much easier to become a puff of air, but he couldn't leave the girl. He had no idea what was going on, but one thing was clear – Barnabas, Leto, and Angelique all wanted something with this girl, and he was going to make sure it was his goddess.

Just as suddenly, he felt the air empty as the crackle of sorcery faded. He allowed himself to slow for just a moment to look about. The town was obliterated – there weren't even any screams. All he could hear was the quiet crackling of fire.

Then, like supreme blasphemy to the silence, the girl on his back began to wail. AmirKa winced in pain, his pointed ears recoiling as he jerked his head away from the sound. And then he realized that the voice wasn't the only thing he could feel.

"Again," he said coolly, and dove to the left as the ground where he had been standing exploded. As he began the dance to dodge the fire, he noticed that the girl had ceased her screaming.

left, left, right, forward, left, left, duck, leap, left, left, back, backbackleftrightdiveforward

He flung himself to the ground and rolled, the girl flying from his back. The intensity of the fireballs was maddening, a jungle of flames all around him. Standing quickly, he noticed three things – the source of the fireballs was a small, red-lined figure on a hill in the distance, spinning rapidly. The next was a hooded figure out of the corner of his eye, coolly surveying the damage. Finally and simultaneously, he felt the scorching heat of a fireball closer than all the others had been.

"Please, to be stopping."

The matter-of-fact, airy voice was barely a murmur above the crashing explosions, but immediately all of the fireballs sizzled and vanished. AmirKa still felt a wave of heat pass into his dropped jaw, but it was nothing compared to the inferno that was inches away from him a moment before. He looked toward the girl for a second, who had gone back to sitting passively, and then put his eyes back toward the hill. The figure had stopped with the red swirls, but was now glowing brighter and brighter about the edges with a brick-red tinge. AmirKa had seen – and felt – that kind of sorcery before. Slowly, the ground began to shake.

The girl. Just get the girl. AmirKa stood up and swiveled toward the stranger toward the edge of the village. He swirled air around his face, amplifying his voice as best he could.

"A little help, if you are a friend, sir?" He gave a swing of his arm toward the now rapidly dancing figure on the hill, and then jumped next to the girl.

"I don't suppose you're any good at stopping earthquakes, little one?" The passive face lit up and giggled, then returned to its passive stare as the ground shook stronger. Frowning slightly, AmirKa threw the girl over his shoulder and tried to stand upright as he looked toward the hill and the stranger. "Up to you then, I suppose," he whispered, as the buildings started to tumble around him.
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Postby Ijinshu » Fri Oct 14, 2005 12:16 pm

All he could hear around him were whimpers, sobs, and the ever present roar of fire raining from the sky. He was leaning against the ruins of a building, shattered from its foundation by the shifting earth. There was no way to know exactly what the building had been. Its remains adorned a sort of cliff on one side of a hill that had been thrust up by the earthquakes. They were near the edge of town, where in better times one might have observed a higher concentration of farms and gardens than shops and homes. Now all they could see was jagged earth, broken structures, and unmoving bodies.

Just a little further.

"Alright, everyone. Listen!" he ordered, yelling the words at the top of his lungs, "I need you all to pay attention to me, okay?" The whimpering continued, but two dozen eyes stared at him somberly; ruddy, blackened cheeks and faces afraid yet attentive. "We need to move away from here. It's not saf-"

An explosion issued above their heads. He yelled a warning and pressed himself into the shadow of the hill as fire crashed into the top of the overhang above them, leaped over their heads, and scorched the ground a dozen feet away. A cry went up around him as the children huddled to the ground, hands over their ears.

Children. A dozen children. Stuck in the middle of this.

As the noise returned to a dull, more distant roar, he straightened up again, trying to keep his voice level, "Alright, come on, everyone. We need to move again."

"Can't we stay here?" a girl said meekly, her golden hair blackened by dirt and soot. She stared at him like she hoped that his saying "yes" might mean that everything would go back to normal.

"No, we can't. We have to run again." There was nothing he could do about the empty look on her face at his words. Perhaps if they weren't all burnt to a cinder on the way, she'd understand later. "Do you all see that tree? Do you see it?" He pointed at a green, leafy tree that had been partially uprooted by the tremors, but that appeared unburnt. It was perhaps fifty yards away, but there was no cover at all in the space in between, just flattened rubble. There wasn't any better direction to go though. "We're going to run to that. On three, we run, okay?"

There was no response, only startled cries at each crash they heard nearby.

"OKAY?" he yelled fiercely, pulling the children closest to him to his side by their arms. The anger in his words seemed to snap most of them back to attention, like an enraged father's scolding.

They all got to their feet, many held hands. He picked up the smallest two children, one in each arm, and held them close to him.

"One. Two. Three. RUN!" he cried, and took off at a dash, trying desperately to keep all of the children in his sights.

They scrambled across the broken earth, and he couldn't help but see them as racing through a schoolyard, trying to be the first to tag the tree. Perhaps if he had been a bit smarter, he would have told them to pretend that's what they were doing.

Maybe if you had been a better teacher.

As they ran, fire exploded to their left, followed too closely by more to their right. One child tripped and another two froze up with their hands over their ears. He couldn't just put down the two in his arms, though. "Come on! Get up now!" he called, trying to emulate the ferocity he had found in his voice earlier, but to little effect. The child who tripped lay curled up on the ground with his hands over his head, while the other two huddled on their knees, trying to make themselves as small as possible.

They were only half way there, and the ground here still resembled the ash pit of a campfire. It wasn't far enough. Another ten or twenty yards ahead, the scorched ground gave way to green. With no other option - he couldn't carry five - he set off towards the tree at a sprint, lifting up the two children in his arms like two sacks of grain. He arrived a few moments before any of the children, set the two young ones down, and turned around again.

He hadn't looked in this direction for a little while.

There really wasn't much left of their home. The town hardly resembled what it once had. The hill that they had been hiding under appeared as a great earthen wave, cresting several yards above a stretch of formerly flat land. In the distance, perhaps half a mile, he saw the rubble of their schoolhouse. Two of the walls still stood, but the rest was a flaming mess. If the children hadn't been outside playing...

A roar from overhead brought him to his senses and he took off running again back the way he came. Within seconds an explosion erupted from the ground near the hill, well behind the three straggling children, but far too close to set his mind at ease. Fire rained all over the town, seemingly at random, and the next impact could be even closer for all he knew.

One of the children had gathered their courage and had stood, and was now running frantically toward him, arms outstretched. "Keep going!" he called, waving a hand behind him towards the tree. "Don't stop!" The child, a lanky little boy, nodded fearfully and scrambled on. The other two were just up ahead.

Hardly even kneeling down, he scooped up the first child - the one who had fallen - in an arm, and cut sideways towards the other one. It was, fittingly enough, the golden haired little girl who had asked him if they could stay where they were. Sliding to her side, he awkwardly lifted her about the middle and with an effort straightened to his feet.

Carrying the two older, yet equally terrified children, he set out again towards the tree, and once again heard a rush above him. The ground was too uneven, he couldn't possibly look up and run at the same time. When he heard the others by the tree crying out in surprise and pointing a bit above him over his shoulder, he only had a moment to brace himself.

The fireball had hit so close that an oppressive wave of heat washed over him, carrying with it a shockwave which slammed into his back, knocking him off his feet. His arms involuntarily let go of the two children, who had enough presence of mind to try to catch themselves as they were hurled to the ground. He himself curled slightly before he hit the ground, digging his shoulder and side violently into the rubble.

He groaned and tried to stand up, and even as he did so the girl he had been carrying scrambled to her feet and took off towards those by the tree. The other, a fairly tall boy of perhaps six, was curled up on the ground again, clutching his wrist. The children by the tree were frozen with fear, and as he stood he waved his hand at them, motioning them to get even farther back. "Keep going!" he yelled. Stooping down, he picked up the injured boy at his feet in both arms. As he set off again at a run, he felt a shooting pain in his shoulder that he did his best to ignore. They were so close now.

Arriving at the tree, he ran by it, up towards the other children who had taken refuge on the side of a hill, not too terribly unlike the one they had just fled. They sat with their arms around their legs, chins on their knees, staring back towards the remains of their home. When he reached them he set the boy down and collapsed to the hill, trying to force his lungs to breath normally.

Looking around, he could tell that they should be safe here; as safe as they could be anywhere now.

Behind him several children had started to cough, a peculiar hacking that he had heard all too often recently. While they may have escaped the fire, it was a subtle reminder that they had hardly made their way beyond death's reach.
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Postby Rinnalt » Fri Oct 14, 2005 10:57 pm

And then there was more than the smell of fire.

The glare and oppressive heat of it were sudden, and not even that near to him. He'd consider it beautiful if he weren't inclined to fear for his life, and even that thought came second to the one currently screaming about how he'd managed to miss fireballs raining from...well, wherever.

It didn't much matter where they were coming from, just that they were.

---

"A little help, if you are a friend, sir?" Rinnalt started at the voice, tore his eyes away from the airbourne destruction. He saw the man's signal, saw the figure on the hill, and then cursed once, loudly.

He then cursed again - even louder - for drawing attention to his position.

He barely managed to stop himself from screaming a series of rather obscene invectives by bringing his clenched fists down hard against his thighs. The pain gave him a moment to think, gave him time to lament his inadequacies and current situation, and then set him into motion.

It was, he supposed, because no one had ever called him friend before, even sight unseen, even as a matter of sarcasm.

Besides, it looked as though the man was trying to carry a child, and Rinnalt had... He shook his head. No good ever came out of trying to explain that to anyone.

Words were terribly slippery creatures.

---

His hood was slipping back over his hair as he ran forward; he hoped its falling onto his back would give him a manic, desperate air. He'd never had any particular problem conjuring that sort of idea in people's minds before, but it wasn't as though he often confronted someone wielding balls of flame.

Someone - some old codger half-fallen into a bottle of alcohol somewhere - had advised Rinnalt that it was in his best interest to "never have an ordinary day".

He'd thought he'd been making good progress on that before, all things considered, but now, oh now...

He was more than making up for any of the wacky his prior days had lacked.

---

The figure on the hill was short and not any older than a boy.

Oh well. I don't intend on becoming well-done today, and if that's the case, he's going down, short or not.

He could feel heat issuing off the scar around his eye before he leapt.

He wondered how long he could hang in the air, if the boy would have enough time to engulf him.

He hit the ground - he could feel the shock and ache of it - but he wasn't certain if his arms had closed around anything, even an ankle. He wasn't ready to open his eyes.
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Postby Melchior » Fri Oct 14, 2005 11:28 pm

Fireballs were easy. One just pulled them from - well, from wherever they were from - and flung them. Sure, it took some aim - but not any more aim than throwing a ball. Now, earthquakes - earthquakes were an entirely different bucket of slop.

And it appeared now that the strange man and his tiny, light-haired burden had somehow rendered themselves incapable of being roasted like good targets, more drastic measures would have to be taken.

Melchior extended his short arms straight out, forming himself into a tiny cross. Taking a deep breath, he reached somewhere - but instead of throwing whatever was there, he tried to grasp it. Understandably, it was like holding onto fire - insubstantial, flowing, and painful. But slowly, the more of it he pulled on, the more of it flowed into him, the more solid it became - until it was not flowing at all.

"Tremble," he whispered, uncertain if he even said it aloud.

And it began - slowly at first, over what felt like hours, all that he grasped in his mind began to break up again. It vibrated, then broke apart, flowing over itself in currents and bursts. Very distantly, he heard the ground broiling.

And then - hours later, or was it just a moment? - something hit him. He felt it like it happened to someone else far distant, but regardless, he instantly dropped all the energy he had been holding. The power - so fluid, now - cascaded in every direction. Tiny shocks shot for miles out into the ground, though nothing compared to the load that blasted straight back into him. Melchior screamed as he toppled backwards under the man, and his last physical sensation was crashing onto the now-still earth, the backlash blasting him to unconsciousness before he could even feel the man land on top of him.
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Postby AmirKa » Fri Oct 21, 2005 11:49 am

Almost as quickly as it had started, the earth wrenched back into place with one final shake. AmirKa felt the sudden snuffing of sorcery, the kind of sickening lurch that comes with a sloppy end. He glanced up toward the area where the twirling red figure had been, but saw nothing. He owed someone an ale.

Turning, he saw the girl staring at him with wide, expectant eyes. AmirKa couldn't tell if it was the moonlight or the natural color, but they shimmered a strange green-grey. Rather exasperated, AmirKa walked over and picked her up again, slinging her over his shoulder. She was limp and passive again.

"Now what," he whispered, looking at the ruined town. His eyes moved beyond, up toward Tyhem's manor. A fireball had cleanly blown into the roof, and the ancient tiles smoldered brightly against the night sky. Tyhem would have been long gone, of course - he would have felt the sorcery in time. At least, so AmirKa told himself.

He supposed the best path would be to find the stranger and their quarry. The girl on his shoulder felt like no weight as all as he ascended the hill, and he had no trouble jumping over the scorched patches of earth as he went.

AmirKa quickly reached the top of the hill. In the indistinct moonlight, he could see the forms on the ground, and he came next to them, holding out his hand.

"Are you all right, sir? Many thanks, for your help," he said. The words sounded foreign; he had been unaccustomed to asking for help - much less thanking someone for it - for some time. "What ill luck brings you to this inferno tonight?"

And then, there was some coughing. AmirKa turned his eyes toward the side of the hill from which it came, and as he did, noticed that the girl had opened her eyes, and was also staring in the direction of the light noises.
-AmirKa
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Postby Rinnalt » Fri Oct 21, 2005 2:46 pm

"I…uh…I…"

He checked his position and the security of the boy beneath him and found them both surprisingly sound. He had a firm grip on the child's waist, and his legs were splayed out along the grass near the boy's left side. His knees and elbows ached a bit, but that was to be expected after a flight in the air and a quick descent to the ground.

Is is possible that I've actually done something right?

He looked up at the man who'd approached and focused on the man's outstretched hand, ignoring the questions he'd been asked.

Perhaps I've turned over a new leaf without even having any idea it was happening.

Rinnalt decided that his soul-searching could wait. He turned his head downward to check the boy he'd tackled, who was breathing steadily enough, but wasn't moving. "I think I knocked him out. I didn't mean to, though I guess that was a quick enough way of stopping him from igniting anything else…"

He looked back toward the man. "I was…I was avoiding people, I'd thought. I'm usually good at that. People like to run away when they see me coming, but I guess I'm far enough away from home now that the running isn't so much an issue anymore." He freed his arms from under the boy's body and then stood, carefully.

"Not that I've done anything in particular to deserve the running, you understand. It's just…well." He drew back the hood of his cloak, which had fallen over his eyes during his fall, and indicated the rather jagged and discoloured scar around his left eye. "There's that, for starters, and the fact that I wear this cloak, which I guess is menacing. And then, of course, there's the matter of my name, which is simple enough at the beginning - Rinnalt - but someone somewhere decided to add 'the Terror' on to the end of it, and since then I haven't been able to shake off even the smallest traces of a bad reputation, no matter how hard I've tried."

"So. Rinnalt the Terror. They also say I talk too much." He studied the man and saw that his position had changed; he looked as though he was listening. Rinnalt strained his ears, could hear the coughing, and-

"Whoa. Whoa. Where'd that girl on your shoulder come from?" He was sure she hadn't been there a moment before, not like that, her eyes all wide and curious…

"We'd better tie this boy up, don't you think? Before we go and see what's over there?"
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