The Ascension of the Nine [IC]

The sky had lost it's luster. It seemed an oblique wasteland for as far back as Esari could remember -- even as a child, whenever she looked up, she saw nothing but despair.

The world had grown to be a dark, untrusting place ever since Xanthis rose to power centuries ago. The combination of his vast empire and his ability to manipulate magic made him nearly untouchable. Every child knew the story of the original Nine Patriarchs -- yet few, save for those who witnessed Xanthis's magic first hand, believed magic could exist any more. There we no wizards, or witches, druids, nor mages in existence -- these were looked upon as extensions of imagination. Xanthis was the only one left who could harness this power... least, he thought.

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Esari lived in the village of Anthros -- a vastly poverty stricken village that struggled each day for survival. The houses were poorly constructed, and the streets were nothing more than dirt, but it was home. Famine, dehydration, and disease were all major threats to the inhabitants of Anthros. There were few natural resources around, and little land to farm.

The village existed several hundred miles from the castle of Xanthis. Yet on a clear day, and past the rolling hills and plains, it could be seen as a dark, ominous reminder of the cold world they lived in.

The sun hung lazily in the sky as Esari studied the lifeless brown field before her. Her orange eyes darting across the open range, then back again, searching for any movement. Their 'sister' village, Ethros, had finally turned to desperation in their struggle to survive. Their relations with Ethros over the nearby resources had finally degraded into violence, and now, they were preparing to attack her village. If they were able to take over Anthros, their village would have sole access to the farmland and local resources of both villages.

Ethros had many farmers, villagers, blacksmiths, and citizens, but few warriors. Their population was much greater than that of Anthros's, which is perhaps why their need was much more. Anthros was a village of hard work and determination. Esari had seen how little her people had to survive, yet never had she seen anyone give up in hard times. To survive under Xanthis required such fortitude.

Esari had always assumed it was the natural inclination of man to revert to savages in times of horrid desperation -- in fact, she was suprised her village hadn't done the same as Ethros.

The small gathering of men and women stood behind Esari, clutching any weapons they could manage. A sword here, and axe there -- the majority of their weapons were farming tools and old relics not meant for battle.

Esari's father -- the former leader of the village -- had finally succumbed to his illness, and passed away no more than a year past, leaving her as his successor. She was young, and immensely frightened at the responsibility that her father had left her at such an age, but refused to show any sign of weakness to her people. Her father never had, even deathly ill for the latter portion of his life, he would never show his fear or pain to his people.

Their lives were desperate enough, they needed a strong symbol of leadership to get them through these hard times -- the role Esari had to take up.

She wore a wrapping of soft, brown cloth around her neck and shoulders -- letting the excess fabric swing down her back -- and cut-off pants, with a plain, short sleeved shirt on underneath her cloth. She wielded the only weapons she had ever owned -- the two, curved daggers passed down by her father. They currently sat sheathed at her side, as she waited -- her heart nearly beating out of her chest -- for the battle to begin.

"Do you s'pose they'll show up?" A humble villager asked her, breaking the silence. The sound of his voice nearly made her jump, for her body was aglow with anxiety, but made it a motif to suppress that feeling to appear a calm, confident leader for her village.

"I do," she returned, her lips quivering as she spoke. Her back was turned to the small gathering of her people, and so they couldn't see the physical anguish she was in. If she were to die here today, fighting for her villages survival, Anthros would have no leader. Even worse, if she was unsuccessful in fending off Ethros, every man, woman and child in Anthros would likely meet their end today.

Behind her stood a collection of men, few women, and children old enough to hold a weapon. It was heartbreaking to see these people -- not soldiers -- prepare for battle. Esari was perhaps the only trained warrior among them. Her father had served, forcefully, in Xanthis's army as a young man. He managed to escape after five years of service in a large scale battle against what remained of the resistance forces whom combated Xanthis. Assumed dead in combat, he was able to start a family.

Since his wife, and Esari's mother, died in childbirth, Esari and her father grew very close. Even at a young age she was utterly fascinated by the stories he told of his time in Xanthi's army. Her father had always cursed Xanthis as the Earth's devil, but praised the men he served with as brave souls. Xanthis would draft many young boys out of their homes to fight in his army, much the way her father was requited.

Finally giving in to Esari's demands, her father began training her to fight at an early age. He would enjoy the time he would spend with his only daughter, teaching her to defend herself and her village. He would tell her that she would have to take his place some day, but she never thought it would happen like this. Her father was a brave and powerful man, for him to die of sickness seemed unfit to her.

She wasn't naturally gifted as a fighter in the slightest, but when she became discouraged her father would be quick to tell her, "There is nothing in this world that cannot be overcome with hard work.". Esari grew up with this belief in her mind, and still held it close to her heart. As her father passed away, he gifted his only valuable possessions to her -- the two blades she would use today.

As she stood lost in her thoughts, she saw the forces of Ethros approach in the distance... A soft, stabbing breath of a gasp filled her lungs. It was time.

They looked much like Esari's people -- thin, weak, and clutching anything they could find capable of killing. The only difference was... they were twice the size of her people.

Anyone able to fight stood behind her now, and she generously had about 400 -- Ethros's forces looked overwhelming right now.

She exhaled softly and closed her eyes. The shouts of the warriors across the field and the sounds of their footsteps grew closer.

"This is it!" she yelled, turning around to her frightened people, "Today decides whether we see tomorrow, or we are taken over."

The men and women listening to her seemed to stand up straighter as Esari prepared them.

"There are hundreds more, back in the village counting on us today -- and though we are outnumbered, I know that no amount of swords or spears can ever overcome the courage of us." She continued, "Though you may die here today, it shall not be in vein... In the midst of combat, whether your pressing though the enemy or have fallen to the ground, remember this;"

The crowd was silent as she spoke. Almost expecting her to say something that would justify the battle here today. Esari searched for the right words... only being able to continue by thinking of what her father might say in this situation...

"Our lives will be given up for the people Anthros! And none of us will be as strong as all of us united, fighting to survive!" She finished, raising her arm to the sky.

She was met with a cheer from her people -- they had dug to find whatever courage they could, and prepared to fight.

"For Anthros!" She cried, and drawing her weapons. With this she, and the armed men and women behind her, charged out into the battlefield... it had begun.

Her lungs pressed with the sound of her screaming -- her voice was drown out by the cries of the hundreds behind her -- but her mind remained calm. Something inside her gave her courage... she was willing to die today for her people.

For a moment... and only a moment... she thought of Xanthis, and how her life might be different if he had never taken power... this thought of happiness gave her tranquility as she ran at the enemy.

For the world had adopted another name for Xanthis. He who resides over a domain filled with no joy, or warmth... He who sat eternally over the Earth that continued to dissolve into chaos. He who never gets older, nor has a soul to feel remorse. They would call him Xanthis, The King of Purgatory.

The City of Veras, constantly taunted by the armies of Xanthis, and looked down upon by a scorched sky of darkness, as the plants die and ground cracks; for the rain scarcely falls. Nobody, even Nesad, the most potent warrior of Veras, didn't think optimistically towards the future of the city in which he was residing, but it was all he had. All anybody in Veras had, really. It was the only semi-safe place from Xanthis' soldiers. While the warriors in Veras were only adequate; they stood up well against Xanthis forces, but casualties came quick when it came to war.

Nesad thought from time to time that he should leave the city; but where would he go? The nearest city wasn't exactly one he would wish to seek refuge in; for they were constantly at war with a nearby village, also of the same stature. Both were fairly poor compared to Veras, Xanthis didn't taunt the two, for the two tore themselves apart on their own. He decided he would leave, and travel to the city of Anthros. It wasn't as vast in numbers as it's neighboring city, but he knew it would stay stronger, as a smaller population requires less resources.

He set off fairly soon after he planned to leave Veras, and it didn't take long to reach Anthros either. Though his arrival could've been timed better. He came to Anthros for less war, but he arrived during a war. If it could be called a war, as it was very small; only held between the two cities. He watched up on the hill he was on, looking down at the battle, deciding whether to enter it, or not. He wanted to help Anthros, but how would they look unto him? He, if anything, looked like somebody from Xanthis' forces.

Nesad came to the conclusion he would just watch the forces fight, until approached by somebody; anybody who would have a friendly face, rather than one with the intent of killing or begging.

ooc: Not able to muster up moar as of now. Distracted by my soar throat, TV, and all the noise outside of my room. And tired because I had a long day. >.<

Anya lived in the village of Ethros, she was one of the few people that decided not to fight. It didn't seem right, sure they were starving, dirty, and weak but to fight a town they were once in peace with was wrong. Instead of fighting she packed her things and sneaked out in the dark before the battle was to take place. In her mind she would find somewhere else to live, somewhere more peaceful, somewhere that she could actually eat and not have to fight for her food. Those were the kind of thoughts that kept her moving along the path of the dark forest she was traveling in. Anya was not scared of any of the noises she met in the forest, she had her twin swords by her side. She had found them beneath the lake trapped underneath a rock; she had found it strange but thought that she did not come by it on accident. There was a reason she had found it.

Taking it home with her she began to fight with them, practicing by chopping down weak branches and fighting invisible enemies. The town's people saw how good she was and instantly decided she would be the second in command in the war. Turning them down they began to call her trader and knew that she would be the first one to die come tomorrow. Being weak and hungry also damaged their brains obviously for they forgot to take away her twin swords; she was able to cut herself loose and run. So here she was in the forest knowing which way to go and which way not to go. It all came so easily to her. She didn't really know why it did but she was not one to complain about it. It came easily for a reason and she was going to find it out somehow. Anya knew she was in the world for some reason. She just didn't know what the reason was.

The door of the tavern burst open, rays of light illuminating the dark and dingy bar, insinuating itself unwantedly like weeds into a garden, and casting light upon the faces of the bar's beleagured occupants, insighting a round of grumbles from the drinkers. "VALIRA!" The man in the doorway bellowed. "You'll pay for what you've done!" A young man sitting at the bar tilted his mug upwards, draining the last of its contents, and dropped a tarnished silver coin onto the counter in payment. Rising from the stool slowly, he cracked his neck, and faced the man. "And what exactly have I done?" he inquired of the angry man. "You killed my brother you scumbag!" The man roared, advancing through the doorway into the bar, and allowing the light to dwindle into nothingness, shining across Bran's golden hair before vanishing entirely. "Did I? Well, I may have. In any case, if I killed him, he deserved it. Now, either leave, or state your purpose." Bran said, in a bored tone, his eyes sizing the man up instinctively, calculating the potential danger he could present.

"You don't even remember if you killed him?" the man was mad with fury, "I'll kill you for what you've done! Lets go, you and me, right here, right now!" At the last word he charged forward, swinging his fist towards Bran's face. "Not in the bar." Bran said, easily catching the incoming blow in is large and calloused hand. "Take it outside." The man spluttered with fury, but consented, turning and striding out of the bar, a sly grin on his face. Bran Valira followed after him. As he stepped outside after the man an axe swung through the air towards his head. Without even looking Bran caught the axe by the shaft, pulled it out of the assailant's grip, and hit him across the face with the blunt end, promptly knocking him unconscious. He was surrounded, a ring of at least 10 men as well as the man who had challenged him, all armed.

Bran laughed. "Is this what you call honor? You summon a gang to take me down? Pitiful." He muttered the last word, spitting onto the floor as he did so. Lifting the sheath from his back, he dropped it onto the floor. "Alright then. Lets go." The man laughed himself. "You honestly think you can take us all on unarmed? Do you know who we are? We're the Bandits of the Golden Sun!" Bran's face remained impassive. "And?" He questioned. "And you'll die for that impudence as well as the slaughter of my brother you son of a bitch!" The man cried, charging in with the ten others.

Less than five minutes later, 12 bodies were sprawled on the dirt floor around Bran, and he picked his sword up, slinging it back across his shoulders. Reaching down, he picked a spear off of the floor, sticking it through the ring on the side of the sword sheaths strap. "Never even got his name." Bran murmured, turning and walking off through the dusty streets of the old town. It was time he was moving on, his cash supply was running low and he needed to find work.

Esari and her people raged mercilessly into battle -- for they had to be if they wished to live another day. In the chaos, it was difficult to tell one bloodstained combatant from another, friends and foes looked nearly identical in the fray. It seemed more of a brawl than a battle, hardly any were trained in battle, and many reverted to beating one another with whatever they could find until one fell.

The sheer magnitude of the brutality was unlike anything she'd ever seen before in her peaceful, uneventful life. It was almost like she was in one of the many war stories her father had told her when she was young. May individual battles took place around her, some lasting for minutes... some only seconds. People were falling to the ground with screams of agony constantly. In any other circumstance the sheer violence would be overwhelming to her -- but she couldn't afford to feel any remorse out here.

Blood from a slain comrade splashed across her face as she watched him stuck down by a large, screaming and enraged villager from Ethros. She withdrew herself from her thoughts and continued fighting. So long as she wasn't overwhelmed by numbers, she was confident in her village's success.

A large crash filled the area around her -- the magnitude of it threw her on her back. Not wanting to be caught off guard, she rolled to her feet as quickly as she could manage and inspected the area -- hoping to find the source.

It was larger, screaming man she'd seen earlier. It seemed not all people in Ethros were starving to death judging by his sheer magnitude and weight -- he must have been their "trump card" for this battle. The man wielded a crude, blunt, stone hammer which was poorly constructed and largely dangerous in the hands of such a man.

Esari was swung at by a villager of Ethros, wielding a farmer's scythe -- she immediately drew her focus away from the man with the hammer. Esari had enough time to react, and raised her weapon to eye level, the blade facing forwards, and inline with her forearm. Rather than parry this attack, she swung her right arm forward -- severing the man's arm at a steep angle. With her second weapon, she buried it into the man's back as he fell forwards past her -- ending his life.

Before she could look up to find the man with the hammer again, she heard someone call. "Thran! Get rid of her!". It was a villager from Ethros... and he was pointing at her. Esari began to turn around, to find the man in the midst of the chaos.

As she turned -- she immediately brought up her arms in defense as she instantly saw him in the midst of a swing aimed at her.

She hadn't the time the avoid it. The large stone hammer stuck her weapons first, then carried though and contacted her body. There was not blocking of an attack with that much force behind it.

Her body was electrocuted with pain as she was sent backwards and onto the ground. She could feel the warm presence of blood flowing down her body in numerous places. Her vision began to become spotty and black -- she writhed on the ground, trying to regain a sense of equilibrium before the man could follow up with another attack.

Struggling to take in breaths she crawled backwards as the man approached -- searching rapidly for any weapon she could take hold of. Her daggers were blown out of her hands as she desperately attempted to block first attack -- perhaps that was the only reason she was able to survive it.

She could feel micro-fractures in her arms and hands, screaming in pain and wishing her to stop -- but she fought for her life now, and couldn't retire this early in the battle.

Finally the man caught up to her, and raised his arms above his head for another swing -- Esari could see a crudely constructed spear behind her head, but it was just a few feet -- nay, inches out of her grasp. She simply couldn't reach it in time.

She stretched a blood-soaked arm for the weapon -- she knew she couldn't reach it, but still refused to let herself admit she was defeated.

She closed her eyes for a moment -- She began to think of the future of her village without her, even if they won the battle, who would lead them? Anthros was filled with people of noble intentions, but they were simple farmers and smiths -- no one capable of taking her responsibility of feeding and providing for the village.

Esari began to blame her self -- she screamed at herself in her mind for letting this happen. How could she be caught off guard and sent to her death so easily? She might not have been as strong as her father -- but if he saw her crawling on the ground in defeat and agony, even he would have probably been disappointed in her. Her mind screamed as she prepared for death.

Esari opened her eyes -- and felt the blood-soaked wood of the spear in her grasp. Impossible.

Discarding the thought of why she immediately whipped it around to the front of her body and thrust it with all the strength she could manage at the man with the hammer -- as she did, the man was already swinging his hammer down toward Esari... perhaps she wouldn't be quick enough.

Blood sprayed though the air and landed on the ground with the dull sound of a heavy raindrop -- it being quickly absorbed by the lifeless brown soil.

Esari's orange eyes stared in disbelief as the man dropped his hammer and fell backwards without making a sound -- the spear pierce him though the neck. He lay there for a few moments, making a horrid choking noise as she suffocated on his own blood -- then became motionless as his vision faded to black, and his life ended.

Esari quickly returned to her feet -- ignoring what pain she could -- and rejoined the battle. She had gotten lucky... No... Impossibly lucky -- she knew that weapon was out of her grasp, it was simply not possibly what she was able to do.

Regardless, she discarded the thought and gathered her two weapons off the gore soaked ground -- the battle was young, and she would be needed.

Yet another strong breeze blew by overhead and leaves rustled throughout the surrounding forest. The background noise overcame the footsteps across the forest litter below, A forest tribesman trekked in a determined pace as if he knew where he was going. In reality Darrius didn't know for sure where exactly but he knew what to expect. He was following his senses, the same keen senses that made him known for his hunting success, the same senses that had him led him to discover the best creeks to go fishing, the same senses that would lead him straight to a lost villager in the woods during the dead of night, and the same senses that would let him know the forthcoming of a battle.

That was exactly what he was seeking at the moment. He was heading towards the direction where he felt less...vitality, and more anguish. He never could explain it; it was just a gut feeling. He would have this gut feeling when he was in battle among other tribes. But Darrius didn't have the intention of battle at all. However he felt that any signs of brutality could lead him closer to the one responsible for torment of his homeland.

The environment around him was evidence enough that Darrius's sense's were right; he paid close attention to the gradual change of the forest's condition. The detritus of the forest floor was significantly drier; his footsteps crunched their way over the dried leaves. The canopy was thinning and more and more trees were exposing bare branches. The forest even sounded different. He didn't hear the chorus of songbirds that were normally this time of year, neither the sharp pounding of woodpeckers, occasional chirps of chipmunks or distance calls of elk. What was prevalent in the air was the stronger pulses of winds slithering through the degrading understory.

The slope ahead of him inclined and he continued up the mountain. Reaching the top sooner than expected, Darrius realized he wasn't on the top of a mountain but at the edge of a high cliff. The cliff stretched wide and far at both directions, acting as an immediate border of the forest. He gazed over the cliff to witness a sight completely alien to him. There were no trees ahead. Absolutely no forest. There were also no mountains in the distance at the horizon, so he wasn't looking at a valley. He never saw such a wide expanse of land so flat, bare, and brown.

Another wind blew by coming from the barren landscape. At that moment the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Though he didn't literally see anything at the lookout point where stood, vivid and horrid images flashed in his head each highlighted and outlined with the red; only in his head could he hear bits of screams and battle cries. This sensation is not new to Darrius. But it was strange to him because he saw people of other races, mixed with women and even children.

Darrius wasted no time. Darrius turned around and ran down the wooded slope to find a way across. He couldn't imagine how many innocents might be involved in such an ordeal, but he was going to do something about it. Realistically the chances of him arriving to the scene before it was too late were rather slim, but Darrius had his gifted speed on his side. No less agile than the swiftest deer racing through the woods, Darrius continued to rush down toward the lowest point, it would have to lead him to the bottom of the cliff eventually. Normally he make sure to stay aware of the surroundings but minus the fact that he has to help those in need, he hadn't anything in over four days and with no contact with other people in the last two weeks, Darrius was desperate to find a lead.

Nesad watched and watched as the bloodshed pursued its inevitable ending, death. From time to time, Nesad wandered why man had to pick up a stick, and use it to rise above others. Why man would go to the lengths of taking the very life that he possessed from another man, stealing that equal right to prosper, and fulfill their lives purpose. Why man had to be on the top, was it not enough that they already rose above the other races, did they have to split and rise higher? It was this very feeling of lust that caused man to wage war with his brethren.

Nesad wasn't a hypocrite, he knew that the only solution to war wasn't death, but with somebody as oblivious to all understanding and reasoning, Xanthis had to die. Xanthis possessed a soul of pure evil, a soul beyond all help; scorched with evil further than any dragon could breathe fire unto.

Nesad decided to help this fight; not with physical force, but with fear. Fear... A pain so diverse, it could outweigh death. The very emotion which Xanthis' throne is built upon. Though not all fear is for the worse, for when used properly, fear was the best way to end a fight before it started, or in this case, near it's end. Nesad couldn't watch the fight any longer as the warriors cried in pain, broken limbs, infected cuts and bruises, puddles of blood haunting their sorrowful faces. He wouldn't let people die like this, not in these conditions.

"Cease this murderous bloodshed!" Nesad shouted loudly at the top of his lungs, a bright fire jetting out from his hands over the battlefield to get their attention, and to persuade them to cease the killing. The last thing they would probably want is third degree burns and a gruesome death. The battlefield fell silent quickly.

"Why, why must you two tribes insist on killing each other, when you could rather join unto one large faction, strengthening your existence?" Nesad asked the crowd of warriors, receiving no response in the midst of the now silent battlefield, receiving many stares. "All you are doing is killing yourselves, tearing your existence from the very seams; suicide. Why not just kill yourselves right now, you have the courage to kill your equals, why not yourselves?" He questioned. Nesad was a warrior, and he killed his fair share of soldiers, thinking of them all as equal. He didn't believe it was humane, to take even fifty lives for one like Xanthis' own. He would rather only kill Xanthis, which is why he left in the first place.

"Your villages would not be murdering each other with mere sticks, if you were to join together. Think of how the world would be if every man and woman were to turn to their allies, and murder them right there. It wouldn't end well, would it, but this is what you are doing right now."

Kenji Hatase walked along the barren forest path to the village of Anthros. His sister was a current resident there and her body had started to fail. He had decided to take her to his home in Brevenhall near the coast to try to get her better.
Maybe the sun and the fresh air will do her good.
I hope you are alright Nalina....he thought as he continued walking.
Kenji glanced to the sides of him. His long brown hair whisped behind him, and his red coat flittered from his knees behind him.
How nice of the locals to welcome me, He thought as he stopped in the path.
His swords, Alpha and Omega as they were called, felt good in his hands as he drew them from their sheaths on his back. The swords were the last two katanas ever made by the famous blacksmith Aaron Harrows. The sword Alpha was as wide as an adult hand, and he used this sword in main combat. Omega, the jet black-bladed katana, was named Omega for a reason. Kenji looked to his immediate left and waiched. Terrified but determined villagers brandishing anything that could kill walked out of the brush. The looks in their eyes told Kenji that they weren't killing for pleasure, but to survive.
"If you just let me pass through, I swear that I will bring you food and water."
The villagers grinned as they blocked the path. There were 12 villagers, 6 in front of him and the others behind him.
"We can't let you through," said the man who looked to be the leader of this group,"Because there is a battle going on right now before Anthros. We of Ethros will slay anyone heading there!" His shrill laughter filled the air and the others laughed along with him.
"Listen. My sister Nalina is in Anthros. I go to bring her to Brevenhall so she can get better, for she is ill you see. Look, I mean you no harm, I'll even put my swords away." Kenji said as his blades slid into their sheaths gracefully. His hands fell to his sides.
"CHARGE! GET HIM!!!!" the man yelled, and the villagers charged.
Kenji ducked and spun, and a huge fire wind swept around him. The villagers were thrown back away from Kenji as the force ravaged. Kenji stood up as the flaming wind ceased. In Kenji's hands were flames, and the villagers eyes widened as they saw that his hands were on fire.
"I warned you and tried to reason. The time of my charity is over."
Kenji looked up, and his jade green eyes burned with determination. Kenji crouched into his stance, but before he began a giant ball of fire appeared in the sky. All eyes turned towards the giant flame.
Thats fire. Only a person with the elemental mastery can cast one that big! Kenji thought as he looked on. Kenji looked for an opening and bolted between the villagers in front of him, heading towards the scene of the battle.