Athos Lorio's Story

The flames around her protected her from just about anything, hot enough to turn a human to ash if they so much as touched it. Powerful enough to stop anything else that came at her. She was at ease in her silent sanctuary. All thanks to Shra. She could hear his rage just beyond her barrier of fire, could hear the blades slamming into one another as he fought furiously and her magic fueled him to be far more powerful than he was moments before. He was faster, his fire stronger and he own physical stamina much more than any persons.

She never would have noticed the rock that had been hurled at her, not if Layien hadn't suddenly popped up right in front of her from Drevair's body. His blade unsheathed and in a single flash of silver steel, he sliced the rock in two, the pieces falling away from them. She was slightly startled with his appearance, but she didn't stop playing her flute. At least not until her brother raised his hand and looked at her.

"Kharun calls for us," he ordered, then he looked to Shra, "Cease."

Shra turned a quick glare at him and disregarded his words completely. Layien sighed as he stood in front of Mireene, protecting her from anything else that wished to interfere.

"He's not going to be happy if he has to come get you," Layien muttered with a frown.



That bloody human was really starting to piss him off. Bouncing around as he was, it was making Shra crazy. His blades connected with the others several times, knocking the sword and dagger away from him as the man attempted to cut him. It reminded him so much of how Kharun fought. Pathetic, cowardly. Face him properly! A slash got past his whirling blades, just barely nicking his arm. He ground his teeth as his weapons whirled, seemingly nonstop in movement as he lit the very ground on fire. With a broad grin that steadily took over his angry features, Shra finally decided a different tactic was in need.

The fires from his swords licked up towards his arms and he soon was wreathed in the red hot flames. He moved then, shifting his body from one side to the other, never standing still. The blades slashed outwards in all directions as he twisted them around and around, the fire growing hotter as he went. He was intent on killing that damned human who kept disappearing on him, and he would have blood spill on the ground if it was the last thing he ever did.

"Come here, little human," he growled with pleasure as he whirled around, lighting the ground on fire with each step he took, "Lets see you fight me now."

Rage was a funny thing. Anyone who fancied themselves a skilled warrior found it easy to belittle it, to damn it as the actions of the foolish or careless. To see it as only a savage, wild, haze that blinded the warrior in combat yet this was only to see its faults. Rage, as all things, had its strengths. Rage made you fearless, it made you strong and unflinching. Rage turned a ordinary man into a beast that consumed all in its path. To stand before rage was terrifying and chaotic, fear crept into the hearts of those standing against rage.

Such strength rage provided that as his fiery transformation took hold the swirling blades of hell fire, slashing wildly in all directions ended Athos' lightning fast attacks. In the brief moment when he appeared beside the fire bearer one of the blades struck the assassin. The fire seemed to erupt on impact sending Athos flying backwards, to tumble through the ash of Bergstadt, his armor hissing from the heat. Fortunately for the assassin while the blow was savage it did not strike anything vital. The red hot blade of the Crimson Man, wreathed in flame, sliced cleanly through the assassin's black armor leaving a nasty gash along his chest. While a shallow wound the skin and flesh sizzled with heat. Athos gritted his teeth in pain as his body exploded with the pain that accompanied the wound.

That strength born of rage, while powerful, did blind one. It blinded the Crimson Man to two things. It blinded him to the separation he was putting between himself and his kin. Even as a third "god" appeared calling for an end to the duel the rage in the Crimson Man's heart muted the words and they went unheeded. The second thing it blinded him to was something much more subtle. It blinded him to the body language of the assassin as he rose from the dirt where he fell.

The Crimson Man coated his body in flame, like armor born of fire it covered his body from head to toe. The man on fire stepped forward, igniting the very earth with each step. Wicked glee poured fourth from the maw of the fire deity.

"Come here, little human, lets see you fight me now."

The words were dripping with malicious intent, as if some great predator was speaking to its wounded prey. Yet the predator seemed to not notice that the prey was not running any longer. His evasion had ceased, his erratic blinking had come to an end after the viscous blow. He stood staring down the fire god with eerie calm as his own blood dripped down his dark visage. Beneath that black mask of his Athos Lorio smiled. The grin rivaled the fire gods malice in full.

"As you wish."

Was all he said before he too coated his body in a protective aura of his own. Where the Crimson Man allowed his body to be consumed by flame the assassin's body was consumed by nothingness. His body vanished from the world of the visible and walked now among the unseen. Unlike before he did not reappear elsewhere but remained hidden. The Crimson Man for all his power and rage could burn cities to the ground, scorch the earth with a touch, hack young women in two but could not fight what he could not see.

The blade cut through the air, tip aimed for the base of the fire gods spine. The volcanic heat would no doubt melt the blade once it hits its mark but it mattered not. Once lodge firmly in the back of the Crimson Man's neck it would have served its purpose. Athos put all his strength and silent speed into the unseen thrust as he stood behind the man on fire, ready to kill a god.

Karvilus looked in bafflement as Mireene managed to dodge every single arrow he fired at her, and in greater befuddlement as he saw that not only the assassin, but also a grey skinned woman attacked the flute playing goddess, to which this all caused the elf to simply cry out; "What the flying f**k?", though his expression softened when Mireene gave him a compliment, though admittedly a rather confusing one.

Karv buckled back at the sudden increase of heat and flame, finding the rubble he stood upon had set alight once more due to stray fire. He dived off his vantage point landing on his feet with a thud and forcing himself into a forward role minimize impact, cursing as his arrows fell from his quiver, to which he clambered to reclaim. Once his arrows returned to his quiver, he watched then ongoing battle between his 'companions' and the gods, mesmerized at their staggering skill and ability in battle and quietly whispering to himself; "Looks like this job is going to be the death of me."
He pried his bow for another shot, aiming at Shra, but cursed under his breath when the monstrous swordsman was barely visible blur on the battlefield, and turned his attention at Mireene again firing an arrow only for it to be knocked asunder by a tossed boulder, which Karv reacted with a quick; "Now that is just bulls**t!"
His anger was quickly replaced yet again with surprise as a newcomer casually sliced the boulder in half with his sword! The elf stood stunned for a few moments before speaking out-loud, more to himself than anyone; "Ahhhh what the hell, let's see if the worlds best archer can kill a man with a over-sized butter knife.", and began rapidly firing arrow after arrow towards Layien's direction, applying his abnormal speed into practice has his hands became a flurry. "That stroppy red git of a swordsman and the enticingly beautiful musician there aren't the only one with speed better than the average warrior!" Karv called out with a mischievous grin, giving a wink towards Valeria and Annikar.

He shifted slightly, catching sight of the oncoming projectiles that were aimed at him. He waited for the arrows to get just close enough and then moved his weapon. The blade lifted, fell and moved from side to side. Only the flat of the weapon was used, redirecting the arrows as they came at him in a rush. Layien had to give the one who shot at him some respect. There were very few who were gifted with such speed.

The sound of steel arrow heads hitting his blade was almost a constant as he stood there, protecting Mireene who had raised her flute once more to fuel both men then.

"That stroppy red git of a swordsman and the enticingly beautiful musician there aren't the only one with speed better than the average warrior!"

To this, Layien raised an eyebrow as he continued to defend, never moving far and only moving his sword to deflect the attack, "Seems he likes you, Mireene. Pity we have to kill them."

"I don't like him," she responded shortly, taking the flute from her lips for that mere moment and then playing on again. Layien's lips pulled into a smirk at her response. His magic swirled around him, growing tired of the constant barrage of arrows. The air shifted and he flicked the fingers of his free hand opened over the edge of his blade. A burst of wind expelled from him, going through the arrows and straight for the archer who was attacking him.



He'd lost track of the man, a most annoying thing. However, he didn't really care because no matter what, his body was a burning inferno and the fool would be stupid to think of getting close to him without getting burned. As he stood there, the shadows from the fires all around began to grow quickly and in a near instant everything around Shra was pitch black. He felt rather than saw Kharun right behind him. The man's back just barely brushed his own. Right after Kharun appeared, cold steel cut along the back of his neck.

Startled, Shra shifted, moving off to the side even as the blade was moved. The wound was deep, but not life threatening. Even so, just the thought that the man had nearly killed him was enough to enrage him.

Kharun squeezed tightly around the wrist of the assassin who'd almost made his mark. His lips were pulled into a smile as he gripped the other tightly, having shifted the direction of the attack just in time. His darkness lingered there around them for a long while.

"Cannot attack what you cannot see," Kharun said slowly, "Seems you and I share the same thoughts."

Kharun pulled the assassin closer, just long enough to ask him, "But do your abilities rival mine? We shall see, Athos."

Releasing him, Kharun stepped back and the darkness disappeared along with him and the other three Gods. Once again it was like they'd never been there.

The hand reached fourth from the darkness gripping tight the hand of the assassin. Salvation came for the fire god that day in the form of shadow stopping shadow, darkness standing against darkness. As the vice like grip of Kharun held Athos fast the golden eyes of the killer of men pierced the cloth where the shadow gods eyes should be. The two seemed to stare at each other, despite ones apparent lack of sight. The mortal man and the god, eerie reflections of one another. The only true difference between the two were their motivations.

Athos listened well to the shadow gods words as he held him, the assassin's blade still dripping the blood of the fire gods from the wound that could have so easily been the last wound Shra would ever suffer. Yet it was when he spoke his name that Kharun truly pierced the veil of Athos' psyche. Through the quagmire of darkness and ire that was the mind of the assassin this being seemingly knew him, or at the very least knew of him. To think that this being had seen something of a rival in him was an odd thing. Fear mixed with determination and the fire of a worthy challenge burned within the mortal man as the god vanished with his kin in tow.

Athos did not move, did not speak for several moments. Clutching his wrist that throbbed with pain from the iron grip of the god he seemed lost within his own minds contemplation. This latest god, above all others would be his test. The shadow god and the assassin had began a journey in that moment. A journey that could only end with blood in the darkness. From whom the blood would fall remained to be seen but for now the assassin was left with a promise of a challenge to come. A challenge he would meet with all his skill and the true master of shadow would be revealed. The question posed rang out in his mind until finally Athos spoke within the confines of his own thoughts his reply. Yes we shall...

Finally returning to the hear and now, Athos seemed to finally realized the pain he was in. He gritted his teeth, almost falling to his knees as his unwounded hand clutched his chest that was still bleeding. The fresh burns cauterized the wound for sure but the wound, while mostly been by the heat, still oozed red. His chest seemed to scream in pain yet he silently bore his agony as he inspected his hand. Fortunately the shadow walker did not break his wrist, which seemed like he could have done easily, yet the fragile bones within his wrist ached with soreness and fresh bruises. He would need to bind his wrist as well as his chest. The assassin needed a healer and relatively soon before he continued his journey to kill the so called gods.

Had Kain been a mortal, he would have followed the other elf's example and cursed out loud. But for the archer, the situation was highly stressful. He was placed in highly uncomfortable conditions and threatened by the gods' magic. Every failure to deal a blow to his enemies was a chance of survival he let slip through his fingers. The blond's existence was also threatened, but not quite so immediately, nor did the other spells his opponents used bring him harm. He had no reason to lose his calm just yet.

He wasn't happy that he was denied the chance at incapacitating and potentially killing one of these gods, and the fact he couldn't even measure the limits of the wall of flame was rather irritating. It felt a bit like nothing was going his way. But on the other hand, he was given the opportunity to learn something new. Two other gods appeared, and were actually foolish enough to make a display of their abilities. While their numbers were a cause for concern, the information he obtained was invaluable.

A part of Kain felt pretty useless, as he had done absolutely nothing of significance in the battle, but perhaps that was for the best. He never meant to sacrifice himself for this cause. The only reason he decided to protect the people of Drevair was because they were the prey he needed to continue his existence. His goal was to ensure his own survival, not save others. The less note the gods took of him, the better. It would only play into his hands if they thought him weak. He would use his 'friends' to weaken them and then deal the decisive blow himself.

For the moment, he considered analyzing the battle his top priority. And the first thing he noticed was that none of the 'heroes' were dead or even seriously hurt. Were they a match for the 'gods', after all? He discarded the idea in an instant: they had trouble dealing with two, and by the end, there were four. No, the fact of the matter was that they simply didn't consider the group a threat. At the very least, their leader - and it was obvious from the few words he heard that they actually did have a hierarchy of sorts - did not.

Kain smirked to himself; these beings who possessed godlike powers were not gods in the slightest. Their words and actions were as simple as those of young - and not particularly intelligent, to put it bluntly - mortals. Similarly, they felt pain; the 'flute girl' cried out when she was cut. Even better, while it wasn't easy to get past their defenses, they could be killed just as easily as any mortal. Otherwise, there would have been no need for the 'flame shield', or for the dark god to stop the assassin's attack.

"Is everyone alright?" He called out some seconds after the gods had disappeared, when it appeared like they weren't going to come right back. Taking a glance at his 'friends', he decided the group would need some time to recover before they could properly discuss the short battle. It was understandable after going head to head with such a powerful foe. He was also a little shaken, even though he knew what to expect after seeing the state of Kartolheim. These mortals were already commendable for not pissing themselves, never mind everything else.

***

It took hours before the group was finally ready to make progress. The dwarf collapsed after the battle, writhing in pain, and had to be carried. Some others were wounded, and the ruins of Bergstadt were no place to provide treatment of any kind. They needed to go someplace else, and the closest moderately fitting location was the tavern he stopped at earlier. Not many places would be willing to accomodate so many strange guests, but his attire wasn't the only thing that likened the elf to a noble. The innkeeper went wide-eyed at the sight of Triumvirate gold coins and was all smiles throughout the following evening. After everyone was more or less taken care of, the blond decided it was time to talk.

"Before we go on to other matters, how about we all introduce ourselves properly?" Kain started speaking after everyone who was willing to listen gathered. "My name is Kain. I am an able user of many kinds of weapons and magic. Unfortunately, while I'm good at many things, I don't think I possess any exceptional skills." He said; he wasn't about to reveal the whole truth about himself.

"I apologize for misleading you earlier. Despite my appearance, I am not an elf, and I merely acted in a way I deemed appropriate for the situation. Who I am is... not important." He shrugged. "However, you have my word that I wish to save every life these self-proclaimed gods intend on taking." He let everyone who would say their piece. It would be good for the group to know each other's names and abilities; their ability to work together needed improvement. Once the introductions were over, he would go on to the really important part.

"Now, I'd like everyone to share their observations of our encounter. Again, I'll go first." He cleared his throat a bit before continuing. "First of all, keep in mind these are mostly my assumptions. While I wouldn't bring them up unless I was fairly certain, I cannot guarantee they are true." He glanced around the group. "What we do know for a fact are three things: the 'gods' possess intelligence and emotions similar to our own, they feel pain and, most importantly, they can be killed." He raised his hand and bent his fingers one by one as he spoke, lowering his hand again a second later.

"First, all of the gods seem to have the ability to teleport, covering large distances in an instant and, somehow, without alerting all nearby mages to their arrival. Finding a way to neutralize this ability is the number one priority; if we can't, we will never be able to rest easy or keep them from escaping. Second, while the gods are powerful, all of them seem to possess a limited number of abilities that they are completely reliant on. You may have noticed that the one with the flute never stopped attempting to play it, even when threatened at point blank range. Pretty much the same goes for the man with two swords. That's it for general observations." He made a pause, but soon continued. There was no telling how much time they actually had to prepare.

"As for some specific things, I'll start with the red-haired male. He is obviously proficient with his weapons and able to manipulate fire. My impression of him is: arrogant, quick to anger, vengeful, possibly sadistic. This could be used against him. He is very straightforward and shouldn't be difficult to deal with, as long as we can put out his fire. Which brings me to the white-haired woman. Judging by the fact she couldn't fight back in melee and was later protected, she is probably incapable of direct combat. This means she plays a supportive role. At first she caused fires to pop up in the area, her partner was a wielder of flame, and her later magic didn't have any obvious effects. Considering this, it's possible she is able to borrow the power of other gods, using it differently, and it would only be logical to assume she can also add her own power to theirs."

"Concerning the other two, information is more scarce. The one wielding a sword appears to have power over the air, and is likely an able swordsman, if the red god is any indication. The blindfolded one remains a mystery. He does not appear to have a weapon, and the best description for his magic I could come up with is that of 'darkness'. Additionally, either one of the four - most likely not the fire or flute ones - or a fifth god is a user of earth magic." He made another pause. "If you're going to face any of them, keep in mind two things. One, even if my assumption about their limited abilities is correct, we can't know for sure if they showed us everything they're capable of. Two, their magic will not necessarily work the way you'd expect, as normal rules do not seem to apply to them. That's all I have at the moment."

Bergstadt, Hours earlier

Karvilus, cocky grin diminished with each arrow that was deflected by Layien, a sight which dumbstruck the elf, never having seen such skill of the sword before, which admittedly gave him unease. As he continued his barrage of arrows at the 'god' his unease feeling was suddenly replaced with a a sudden strike of being insulted as Mireene casually knocked aside his sweet nothings about her to which he replied mockingly; "Alas, it was not to be nonetheless, fair maiden of musical prowess! For in case you hadn't realised, you and your friends are deeply in the s**t for the massacre of these villages!", but his grin disappeared altogether as saw the very arrows flying true towards Laiyen being sliced in thin air while the sword had not even glanced them. This made Karv pause for a few moments, lowering his bow as he squinted at Laiyen in confusion, before his eyes widened, his mouth forming into an 'O' as he was struck off his feet from the sudden attack of a scything wind, cutting his leather armour as if it was merely parchment, caught off-guard at the air based attack.

"I hate bloody wind magic.", the elf grumbled as he hastily clambered back upon his feet, before immediately sprinting for a better vantage point, atop yet another smouldering pile of rubble. He took the moment to peer round the current ensuing battle, deciding promptly that things weren't exactly favourable to him or the fellow combatants against the gods, but he'd be damned before he let a pair of scantily clad woman met her fate with death and not in his own arms gushing words of affection at him. Besides, i'd seem a bit of heartless move to abandon the decent seeming dwarf he met earlier, though the rest he admittedly had little qualms over their death. He planned on firing arrows in Valeria's defence before he saw that the 'gods' had vanished from sight, causing the mercenary to scratch his scalp in greater befuddlement. He had been through a rather puzzling day. He then noticed out of the corner of his eye there was someone gravely injured, to which he diverted his attention. It was Athos collapsed on the floor with severe wounds. Karv grinned to himself at the sight, chuckling out loud; "Ha, serves the sneaky son of a whore right! Save me the trouble of dealing with the poor wretch myself after this whole gods business!"
His smirk weakened as he kept staring, remembering that the assassin was actually pretty effective when he was combating Shra, to which he sighed to himself in frustration before complaining under his breath; "Why the f**k am I the only healer here?", as he leapt from his vantage point and sprinted towards Athos.

The Present
Now inside the inn along with the others that combated against the powerful beings behind the attack on Bergstadt, Karvilus Leafgrinder, downed his ale as he leaned back in his chair, his expression weary from the recent events, and listened to Kain's Introduction. Oddly, the name seemed familiar to Karv, perhaps he heard of an elven nobleman of the name before? The mercenary shrugged it off as mere case of deja vu, and placed his mug ungracefully atop the table.
"Though I doubt a marksman of my outstanding talent needs an introduction, I will humour our overly dressed friend here. I am Karvilus Leafgrinder, archer for hire who's aim has never faltered, and arrows have always struck true. Well until the run in with those monsters calling themselves gods that is.", the elf introduced himself, his eyes glowering for a few moments as he remembered the 'gods' before continuing.
"I am also a gift to women everywhere, though only awarded to the rare and beautiful few, hopefully with present company included.", to which as he directed his gaze to Valeria with a confident wink, adding a smile before turning his attention to Athos.
"Oh, and I also am able to use healing magic and herbology. Old profession of mine that I found rather dreary and dull. Though you, assassin, definitely owe your life to my emergency treatment. Despite my medical wonders, you will need proper treatment later, emergency treatment isn't exactly proper treatment to wounds after all. You're welcome, you little grim turd."

Karvilus then pestered the innkeeper for more ale, and wondered over to where Valeria was as he obtained it, listening to what Kain had to say about the gods. His interest was obviously lacking however, as he pondered on how to start at gaining the priestess' affection.

he red haired demon had gotten away from him… this day. Not that Johannes felt particularly pained because of it. The sudden appearance of two of his demonic kin on the battlefield had shocked Johannes slightly. To think the high priests of the Triumvirate were not only wrong about there being but one of them, they were wrong to the extent that they didn’t even notice the existence of three others, if not more. With a sigh Johannes released the power that enchanted his armour, the light slowly fading into nothingness and his weaponry slowly returning to their normal state. He then pulled of his helmet and ran a hand through his short hair. When Kain called for a meeting somewhere else, Johannes followed solemnly, saying little and only tending to his horse.

Johannes disliked inns, peddlers of debauchery and filth, hiding holes of the downtrodden and the unfaithful. There was no bliss to be found in drink, no matter how much of it you drank down. With a grunt Johannes sat down on a stool, which creaked under his weight. He conspicuously picked a spot further away from the elves and the dwarf, clearly not interested in fraternizing with them overmuch. His cold demeanour continued all the way even when Kain called for introductions and Johannes followed suit.

“My name is Johannes de Witte, knight of the Black Cross order of the Triumvirate Faith.” Curt and short, Johannes felt no need to add anything about what he could do. If they hadn’t realized that during the battle then there was no point trying to explain it to them.

“As for the figures we fought… I’d have to agree with Kain’s assessments. They clearly possess some form of magic not known to us and we shouldn’t make too many assumptions… however. The red haired one clearly relies on his speed and his fire. As Kain said, taking away his fire would weaken him considerably, but if we can take away his speed we can accomplish much the same. I’ve fought men like him before, men with great skill, speed and arrogance.”

“They rely of a constant barrage of attacks, using their superior speed to constantly pressure the opponent. If we can stop his constant stream of attacks, his own arrogance should quickly turn on him and before long his rage will make sure he errs, which is when we should strike.”

“As for the flute player… she’s quick and agile clearly, but I doubt she can fight. Next time we see her we should just pressure her with constant attacks and watch how she falls.”

Johannes nodded once to himself, somewhat pleased with his assessments, even if they did match Kain’s quite well. He left out any comments on the other two, Johannes had only seen the one from a distance and barely noticed the other one. He wouldn’t waste anyone’s time with guesses. For a moment he wondered when he had made the decision to team up with these strangers, but now that he said it out loud, it felt like the right thing to do. Perhaps it WAS the will of the triumvirate that brought them all together.

Athos had to grit his teeth in frustration as the elf spoke. His overly opinionated words were enough to draw blood from stone but the bit about saving Athos' life was almost torture. The assassin had a mind to bury his dagger in the one eyed archer's throat and finish what he'd started in Bergstadt. Yet he breathed out a sigh of pure hatred and managed to exert self control and spare the elf's life. So sullenly he remained silent, the brooding assassin eying those around him with a cold gaze. He listened to the pomp and fare of those around him. The immortal man, the elven archer, the paladin. All liars and hypocrites, fools and cowards. It was almost enough to nauseate him then and there. They spoke and went over their speculations about their foes. For that's all it was, speculation. There were no facts to be found here. No truths, only what these here gathered believed to be true.

Athos shook his head slowly before getting to his feet, though not without a small tremor of pain from his freshly bandaged wounds. The eyes of those gathered turned to him ready for his own introduction.

"My name is Athos..."

He said darkly as his eyes flicked to each member of the group before he turned around.

"And I have work to do."

His final words as he walked out of the inn. Still clutching his ribs the assassin gingerly and with labored steps made his way out of the inn. He would not travel with the group. He had no place there. Among knights and nobles, wizards and geniuses. No his was the solitary road, his was a road of pain and loneliness as always. A part of him, deep down wanted to stay yet it was quickly locked away deep within his psyche. He would travel alone, it was better that way. Better for him and better for them. Let them sit and talk. Let them muse over their own strengths and feed into their own egos as he set to the task. These so called gods will die all the while a voice echoed within the assassin's mind. The voice born of shadow and untold strength.

"...do your abilities rival mine? We shall see, Athos."