Continent of Drevair

The flute on her lips pulled away, the beautiful music ceasing to exist. Opening her red gaze, she witnessed a most pleasing and gorgeous sight before her. The small town was burning. Every building was up in flames, nothing was spared. Her lips turned into a very small smile of happiness. Mireene stood and waited for her brother to return. She wanted to know if she'd been of any help to him at all.

"Brother," she called as she spotted the tall man with flowing red hair. His attire was that of deep crimson as were his twin swords that were held in each hand. He looked up, a wicked smile on his lips as he approached her.

"Mireene," he said with a light tone. Shra moved to stand next to his youngest sister and sheathed his swords. Reaching out he patted her head gently.

"Did I help you?"

"What do you think? Look at it. It's burning beautifully. You're the most helpful out of everyone," he told her with a laugh.

"Oh please, I'm helpful to."

Looking behind her, Mireene spotted her other sister, Dimee. The older girl smiled brightly at them as she approached. Shra tilted his head to look at her from over his shoulder.

"Sometimes," he commented in return. Dimee only laughed at the small jest. Mireene smiled shyly between them both. She loved being around her brothers. Especially Shra. There was just something about him that made her feel a little less shy. A rush of air passed between them all and a second later a dark mist formed in one area very quickly. It lasted mere seconds and from it Kharun stepped towards them. His covered eyes betrayed his ability to see everything.

"Kharun," Dimee beamed. Between them all, she favored him the most. Mireene smiled, but didn't say anything. Kharun walked passed all three of them, going a few feet away from them to stand and watch the flames flickering. He was silent the entire time. His black cloak whipped backwards from the super heated wind that blew the inferno all across the town.

"Where's Layien?" Shra asked.

"Almost finished," Kharun answered shortly. Though it wasn't much, all three knew that they were to wait for Layien to join them before doing anything else. Drevair would bring him to them, it was how it worked. Their mother always brought them together, Kharun need only ask of it and she provided.

It wasn't much longer before Layien joined them. He brushed himself off, dirt and grass falling from his shoulders as he'd traveled via Drevair's touch. Kharun turned then to face the four Gods.

"It begins with these. The city that Layien wreaked chaos in. This town that Shra and Mireene have burned and the village that Dimee razed to the ground. You've done well, my brothers and sisters. Our mother is very pleased with the start of things. We need only finish our work," his head tilted to look down towards Mireene. She watched him in silence, a bit of awe in her eyes as she waited for him to speak, "Stay with Shra. Do not leave him."

"Yes," she answered softly.

"You know what to do next," Kharun disappeared into thick black smoke that slowly dispersed into the air. Mireene looked up to Shra who grinned almost crazily.

"Come on little sister. Let's go pay the human's a visit shall we?"

"See you later," Dimee said as she too disappeared via Drevair's power. Layien gave a short bow to them, a bit of a smile and was gone in the next instant too. Mireene watched them go, her eyes sparkling.

"Alright," she answered and took hold of her brothers hand as they were swept away with Drevair.

Kavos was an unimaginably vast Kingdom. It had started as a small warring fractions many a millennia ago. But with the firm leadership of the first family of Kavos it had expanded to such greater distance.

Rule & Conquer.

That was the Kavos family motif. And that's what they had been doing from the beginning of time. Now was no different. Drevair's southern portion would belong to the Kavos Kingdom sooner or later.

King Marius Kavos ruled with a firm but iron fist, like his ancestors before him. War was on the cusps but this war . . . this war was different.

Yes . . . Pondered Illyria Kavos remotely. This battle was indeed different . . . Her sense tingled with impending dread. The capital city of Caprice rolled out before her into the distance as she stood high above on the Wall Walk of the great Castle. The wind stirred the long lengths of her gown and her long copper locks swayed with the air.

Everything was eerily normal. The streets below bustled with the usual non-stop of such a large city. Illyria wanted to believe it was her imagination . . . But she knew better.

She watched absent mindedly to the goings on below her. Women and merchants washed their clothes and wares in the river that ran through the city. The peels of laughter and giddy squeals of children flowed through the air. Everything was vibrant, vivid and colourful.

There was no place in Drevair like Caprice, mused Illyria as a smile touched her lips. A fierce need to protect all of it ran through Illyria. These were her people. Just as the call for battle summoned the people of Kavos to fight for their Kingdom. So would their Kingdom fight for their freedom . . .

An unnatural silence hung in the grand cathedral of the Triumvirate Faith. Johannes stood next to his brothers and sisters of the Black Cross order, waiting quietly for one of the three spiritual leaders, each sitting on of a raised dais in a corner of the triangular structure, to speak up. There was something odd about all of this. Never before in the Faith’s long history had all the members of the Black Cross order been gathered in one place and it was making Johannes nervous. Had this something to do with those vicious rumours of a new cult? He had heard of them, of course. Doomsayers and corrupted souls, claiming the very world of Drevair itself had risen up against them, that Drevair was the cause for the recent plague of destruction across the land. That it was the work of gods.

Johannes had to restrain himself not to spit at such disgusting filth. Lower than filth, even. There were only three gods, the rest were but imposters. Fiendish beings like the Elves who used some foul sorcery to gain power beyond their means. Yes, filth like that and the backwards sheep that believed their lies. Such scum always preyed on the weakest of the great herd, like wolves fearful of the defender’s bulls horns. Johannes sighed silently. His mental exercise had gotten him nowhere, he was no closer to figuring out the purpose behind this gathering, nor to the motives of those who called for it. Suddenly, three loud taps on the floor brought not only Johannes, but everyone inside the grand cathedral around to face the bishop who just tapped his staff on the floor.

”Hear ye, hear ye. His holiness the grand Inquisitor would speak!” The bishop’s voice boomed through the holy hall and all other sound seemed to fall before it. Johannes could not even hear the breaths of his brothers and sisters and found that he himself was also holding his breath. This was the first time he had heard the grand inquisitor speak. As representative of Abilmel, greatest of the Triumvirate, the grand inquisitor rarely involved himself in worldly matters and rarely was there a heresy great enough for him to comment on it. The elderly woman slowly stood up from her seat on top of her dais and shuffled forward, raising her hand slightly before speaking in a soft, yet clearly audible voice.

”Brothers… Sisters… greatest warriors of our holy faith. A great tragedy has befallen the lands of men. Earlier this week, Kartolheim and Bergstadt have been burned to the ground… we found but one survivor.” The elderly woman paused as a rush of whispers suddenly filled the hall. Johannes himself remained silent, but he could hear the hushed voices. Johannes shared their concerns. Both cities were on the borders of the Faith’s great nation and both held sizeable detachments of the Faithful Many and Black Shield orders to protect the cathedral’s and churches there. Johannes attention was once more brought to the grand inquisitor when she coughed and silence swept through the room once more.

”This one survivor… claims that the attack on Bergstadt was perpetrated by but a single being. He described a man slightly above average height, with burning red hair and two wicked swords that spread the great inferno from its tips.” This time there were no hushed whispers, rather, everyone seemed to be stunned. To hear that a commoner dared suggest the great inferno, final resting place for all sinners, be utilized like some toy for a mere mortal, it stunned them all. The grand inquisitor took a deep breath before continuing. ”This survivor… he described this man with fiery red hair as a god…”

Loud protestations erupted from the room. As if all the tension suddenly need to be released, all called out for the great pyre for this heretic. Even the bishops ramming their staves on the floor and calling for order did nothing to stem the tide. The grand inquisitor held up her hands, but order would not return. It wouldn’t return until his holiness the Lord Chaplain, closest to Garganth, let his mighty voice boom through the holy hall.

”Silence you fools! The grand inquisitor has more to say!” The grand Inquisitor nodded to his gigantic colleague in thanks before continuing. ”The heretic has been burned on the great pyre, as the scriptures demand. But he has only been the first of many. All across the land we hear reports of this foul heresy spreading. And that is why we have called you here today. From you, we shall select the strongest, the most loyal and the purest, to investigate these rumours… and to slay the false god with fiery red hair.”

Suddenly, bishops and priests alike were amongst the warriors of the Black Cross order, handing out sealed notes and urging everyone to retreat to a private area to read them. Johannes did as he was bid and quickly retreated to the barracks, into his private chambers to read the note.

“To Johannes de Witte, Rejoice, for you have been chosen to hunt down and destroy the foul false gods that stalk that land, attempting to usurp the Triumvirate Faith. Report to Archbishop Sammuel, he shall present you with a gift for this journey.”

With a gleeful smile Johannes quickly packed his gear and went straight for the Archbishops quarters. He wasn’t sure what this ‘gift’ might be, but he knew the Archbishop was one of the greatest relic smiths in all the lands. They said the Archbishop had studied the foul rituals and magic of the lesser races and managed to convert them to serve the Triumvirate Faith. It was known to all that the relics he made bestowed upon their holder the ability to wield great and holy power, even if the holder had no talent for it themselves. Eagerly, Johannes knocked on the Archbishop’s door and entered.

The elderly man, slowly looked up from his scrolls. Although he was ancient, his mind was still sharp. A shake voice came from somewhere deep inside his throat, as his lips didn’t seem to move. ”Ah… yes, Johannes, correct. I have been ordered to present you with one of my greatest creations. It is in the box on that table.” Johannes gaze followed the slightly shaking finger to the table and slowly made his way over to the box. Almost tenderly, he opened it and within he saw the holy triangle of the Triumvirate Faith, with a black cross in its centre to symbolize the Black Cross order. From the relic, he could feel great power emanating and could feel it resonate with the power bestowed upon him when he was inducted into the Black Cross order.

”That relic shall help you to better utilize the holy gifts of the great three. May it serve you well in your travels, young Johannes.” The Archbishop spoke, before returning his attention back to the scroll in front of him. Johannes nodded in thanks, before rushing out the room. He took his equipment and slowly made his way out of the grand cathedral. All around him he could see his brothers and sisters preparing for their own journeys.

Upon exiting the grand cathedral, Johannes made one final check to ensure his armour was secured and jumped on the horse prepared for him. He slowly lowered his helmet over his head and looked back at the cathedral one last time. The next time he would see it he would be carrying the severed head of the false god with fiery red hair. Johannes nodded to himself, before spurring his horse into motion. His first destination, the town of Bergstadt.

The air in the old manor was cold and still like the grave. The lavish estate had been built centuries ago and stilled showcased the splendor of times long since lost to history. The sprawling gardens with figures carved of stone was once a vision of beauty, man's masterful synthesis with nature now looked like a haunted maze of overgrown thorny shrubbery stalked by stone ghouls. The manor itself, massive in its scope and elegance was at one time the height of wealth and an architectural wonder. The slow decay of time and lack of upkeep had reduced it to a hollow husk, its once golden windows that emanated from the candles within now stared out into the world with dark, haunted, soulless eyes. It's inhabitants went the way of the estate, dead and buried long ago. They had been a family of renown and unimaginable wealth. Every king from sea to sea of Drevair was careful to befriend this influential house lest risk their wrath. Then came the murders, the blood and the loss suffered by a small boy, the only living survivor of the savagery.

Carlyle was no longer that small boy of only eight winters, now he was an old, old man reaching the end of his days. He was ready and willing to commit his soul to Abilmel, his faith was the only thing that seemed to give him comfort and solace in the twilight months of his life. Despite his actions throughout his life, good deed and evil, he felt content that his chosen faith would accept him in their loving embrace in the afterlife. Carlyle had struggled throughout his many years to bring his family back to it's former glories. The pursuit of power is one paved in blood as any ruler can tell you and Carlyle's attempt was no different yet Carlyle lacked the strength of body, even from a young age to do what needed to be done so he sought out those capable of the dark deeds necessary to bring his family back to prominence. Unfortunately for the last remaining son of the house with the forgotten name he did not find the one man who could save his family until many years too late.

A mysterious assassin with the power few would dare to speak of came into his life as but a whisper. The already aging Carlyle had needed an elven diplomat killed yet none would take the contract for fear of the nearly impossible odds. Not until He came to Carlyle, not until the one touched by a demon. He appeared like a wraith, stepping fourth from nothingness seemingly unphased by the monumental task requested. Carlyle thought he was half mad until three days later. The assassin returned with the head of the diplomat and an open hand waiting for payment. From that time the old man with limitless wealth and the assassin worked together many times. Bodies dropped, blood was spilled all for a task that was impossible. To save a family required a family to save and Carlyle was alone, the last remaining member of a house of ghosts.

Yet he called on the man, again and again requesting death be brought to those whom Carlyle felt the world needed be rid of and like the assurance of nightfall the assassin would complete each contract without fail. This new contract however may prove too difficult even for his dark friend. The call had gone out, the killer of men knew Carlyle was looking for him. He needed only wait. As Carlyle sat alone in his study, with but a single candle lighting the book he was reading he didn't know, couldn't know the eyes that were upon him. Eyes that had seen such savagery and brutality, that had seen the darkest that this worlds inhabitants had to offer. Eyes that had witnessed murder in droves, eyes that knew the intricacies of how blood dripped around a fresh wound, eyes that relished in the look of terror in another, the eyes of a killer.

"Carlyle."

The name was spoken from the darkness and sent a jolt of shock and terror into the heart of the old man. Carlyle jumped in his seat, dropping his book and clutching his chest, his heart threatened to give out then and there. The owner of the dead house turned around, his wide eyes frantically searching in the darkness for the voice.

"W-where... Where are you?..."

Nothing, not a word was spoken, not a sound was heard. The frightened old man searched in vain for the man that was nowhere to be seen. This, no where man could only be seen when he wished it yet he searched anyway in terror.

"Here."

The voice again, this time coming from directly in front of the chair in which Carlyle was sitting. The old man spun around in shock with a scream on his lips only to find the book he dropped in the hands of a killer. The assassin, the no where man, the one touched by a demon stood before him cloaked in his dark armor like some wicked fiend born of shadow. His golden eyes pierced the darkness and seemed to grip Carlyle's very soul.

"You dropped this."

Athos said as he handed the old man his book before taking a seat across from him. Carlyle took several deep breathes to calm himself as he set the book that was returned to him aside.

"You know I hate it when you do that."

The assassin just smirked beneath his hood.

"And you wonder why I do it."

Carlyle took a final breath to still his racing heart as he looked at the dark killer of men seated before him. Those golden orbs always on him, it unnerved him the day he met him and it unnerved him to this very day. Carlyle always felt like he was being eyed by some hungry hell beast waiting to pounce. The old man said nothing for a moment, as the assassin watched him. The fear that rose off the old man was always palpable when Athos was near and this day was no different. The fear he felt was no idle concern, Athos was not a loyal man. His blade could be bought by any who could afford it, both men knew that.

"You know... I always wondered when... when you'd come for me... when someone would hire you to take my life."

Athos leaned forward ever so slightly.

"Perhaps that time has come."

The old man stared in horror for a few moments, the uncertainty evident on his face. Then Athos leaned back causally and Carlyle breathed once more. The old man worked to control his nerves around the assassin, it was never easy what with the constant worry of a sudden death looming.

"You have a contract for me?"

Athos asked, mercifully changing the subject. Carlyle nodded slowly, grateful to get down to business.

"Yes, yes I do..."

A young man was having a drink in a roadside inn, resting and listening to rumors. The town he stopped at was close to the borders of the Triumvirate, to the place where he was heading before. He didn't know the names of the local settlements, but he wasn't following maps or road signs to his destination, but a certain feeling. He was in a rush before, but now he spent his time leisurely: he was already too late.

Rumors of the attack had long ago reached this place, as well as rumors of the sole survivor being burned at the stake for heresy. Kain could do nothing but laugh silently at such actions; the people in charge destroyed their only lead for fear of losing their authority. Ignorance and fear were pretty typical for humans, but none surpassed the citizens and leaders of the Triumvirate in that respect.

Remaining this close to the "holy nation" was not the most prudent course of action. Kain had once been the enemy of all elvenkind, hunted wherever they could reach him. It took him years and a lot of effort to enthrall all the people who knew what really happened on that night decades ago, making them forget he was anything more than a psychotic murderer. He was still a wanted criminal back home, but the elves no longer bothered him outside of their lands.

He didn't want a repeat of that, especially since the Triumvirate was in possession of much greater resources than his former kin. That and being an elf alone was almost enough to be hunted in this land of extensive brainwashing. In a way, it was commendable that the leaders of the religion managed to bend so many to their will without even using any form of magic. They managed to turn unquestioning obedience into one of the greatest virtues for these people.

Of course, as an intelligent and educated individual, Kain knew that their faith was a big hoax, that no "divine trio" actually existed. Using "divine magic" and "holy relics" as a counter-argument was just silly in the eyes of one steeped in magic. What one really needed to use magic, apart from practice, education, intelligence and talent, was confidence. Belief in some deity was merely a suitable substitute, and evidently more easily achieved in the naturally inferior humans than belief in oneself.

But those were empty musings, irrelevant to the present situation. What was relevant was the new "god", the one responsible for the destruction of a whole town. No one knew anything about him, only that he was exceptionally powerful. Unfortunately, Kain already knew that from when he felt his life force. Even more worrying was the fact that Kain sensed several similar creatures, but the Triumvirate was only aware of the existence of one. That was easily explained: there were no witnesses of the second town's destruction.

The "man of crimson" appeared out of nowhere and with no warning, and so did the others. Ignoring such a powerful being would be the epitome of foolishness even had his appearance been predicted and his motives clear. Unfortunately, it appeared there was nothing he could learn while maintaining a safe distance from the Triumvirate's forces, and the "god" himself should he prove hostile. This was not a matter he could ignore, so there was only one course of action left for Kain: to investigate the ruins himself in hopes of finding some clue.

He set out without a clear destination in mind. There were two towns, although only one survivor was left. Kain had no doubts that one person was left alive intentionally. The question was, would he be able to learn more from visiting the survivor's town, or the one where none were left? He couldn't decide one way or the other. In the end, he picked his destination at a road sign: the town of Kartolheim was closer. He walked briskly, eager to discover any secrets he could. Learning anything at all about these powerful beings would be worthwhile.

"Blood, it has been shed in the past few days," A soft, calm voice comes from behind Valeria, a voice that she recognizes. She turns around slowly, to see the High Priestess standing there, with her hands joined together, a worried look on her face, she is dressed in her usual clad of gold robes with a crimson trim, ready for the day ahead. She is looking out of the open window, her indigo eyes glued to the blood red dawn. Valeria, who was still dressed in nothing but a white bed robe, wisps of brown hair hang over her shoulders, had woken up early because she had another vision. She looks down and sighs at the warm, grey stone that runs through the castle, trying to recollect the events of what happened in her vision. Blood, and fire...And then a man with flowing red hair. What could this mean? She thought, then she felt a touch on her shoulder, it was her Aunts warm touch. Valeria looks up to see not a smiling face but a troubled frown,

"You saw it to, didn't you? The horror and fire that took place in Bergstadt?" Her aunt said quietly, her voice almost trembling, it is obvious that she is worried. Valeria did not need to say anything but nod, because she did see it, now it was as clearer as anything, she closes her eyes and relives her vision, through the eyes of a young human woman.

"Faleen! Run my child!" I can hear father yelling in the distance, it is hot and I can't see straight from the smoke, fire is starting to spread throughout the house, I can see my father, he is trapped under a pile of flaming wood, he is injured. How much I hate to do it, I have to run, I have to survive. I burst the door open to find that the whole village is in chaos, screams of mothers and their children. Farmers valiantly sacrificing themselves for their families, but what is doing this? I turn gaze away and try to run with the crowd. I give one last look back at my house as it bursts into flames, at that moment I realized I have no one left, no mother to help me through my hardships, no father to save me from the monsters in the dark. I bump into something, and I get knocked down onto the soft burnt soil. I look up and the last thing I see is a man in red, then everything starts to go dark, I...Am Coming Mother and Father...

Valeria sheds a tear, quickly wiping it with her hand as she looks up at her aunts sad face. She sniffles and shakes her head quietly, adjusting herself before saying,

"No more blood."

A few hours later, with Valeria dressed and sitting at the oaken table on top of a platform, next to the High Priestess during a breakfast that consists of berries and nuts, she hasn't forgotten the vision had dreamed of not one bit. She has hardly finished her meal before the High Priestess taps on her golden goblet and stands. Looking forward Valeria can see two long tables stretching the whole of the Grand Hall, filled with the other Society members, and the tutors. She looks up at her Aunt who is about to give a speech, with a golden envelope in her hands.

"Fellow Society members, I have...Distressing news, Bergstadt and Kartolheim have been...destroyed," at this most of the members gasp in horror, but Valeria already knew this, and she knows what has to happen next. The High Priestess coughs before speaking again, "So far the culprit is unknown, and in result to this, we have no other choice but to do our part for the sake of Drevair. I have...Chosen Valeria Marietta, my right hand to go to Bergstadt and investigate on behalf of the Society of the Golden." As the High Priestess finishes her words, all attention is brought to Valeria, everyone is staring at her, either with horror or sadness. Do they worry if I will die? She thinks to herself, trying her hardest to put on a brave smile, but it fails. As the members are dismissed, Valeria stands up and bows to the High Priestess before walking off to get ready for the journey head, for this will be the first time leaving the island. I wish it was for different circumstances...

Blood stained the ground beneath Johannes’ feet. He had expected bandits this close to Bergstadt, to prey upon the local farmers and smaller villages now that the protection of the slightly larger city had fallen away, but not in such numbers, or in such a state of heretic madness. That mere bandits, no matter their numbers, thought they could defeat a holy knight of the Black Cross order, that was nothing short of madness. With disgust he kicked a severed limb out of his way as he moved away from the slaughter to observe the situation. All around him the softly groaning bodies of the bandits that were lucky enough to survive the onslaught lay where they had fallen. With a raised eyebrow Johannes noticed that most of these bandits barely had anything worthy of being called weaponry. Planks with spikes, kitchen knives, saws and pickaxes. The weaponry of peasantry at arms. Johannes gave a soft sigh as he mumbled a soft prayer to Kain, asking him to forgive these peasant fools for their disloyalty.

It seemed the situation was deteriorating faster than even the bishops had expected. If peasant mobs were already being formed, then the unrest was spreading. As Johannes walked back to his horse he softly hoped that the mad heresy was contained to the areas around Bergstadt and Kartolheim, or indeed, that this was an isolated incident. In times of strife and heresy the great flock had to come together, not drift apart. A Johannes climbed back on his horse he gave himself a reassured nod. The scriptures always provided profound wisdom for times like these. With some haste he spurred his horse into motion, hoping to arrive in Bergstadt before more unpleasantness found him on the way.

Johannes thanked Garganth for his protection as he finally approached the village of Bergstadt without any further delays or excitement. He had not come here to scour clean the lands of the filthy wolves who sought the feast upon the great flock in a moment of weakness, he had come to destroy the den from which these wolves spawned. Johannes smiled inwardly for a moment at his own profoundness at what he just said. He would have to remember that, for surely a time would come that one of the chroniclers of the Triumvirate Faith would wish to commit the death of this heresy to paper. What better way to start such a chronicle than with those words? Absent-mindedly he guided his horse into the burned out remains of the city of Bergstadt, the horse’s hoofs kicking up ash and dust with each step.

Johannes slowly looked around before dismounting. There was nothing unexpected to be seen in this burned out town, yet somehow, he felt something was wrong. He slowly guided his horse to a piece of timber that still seemed like it wouldn’t fall apart at the touch and tied the reins of his horse to it. It wouldn’t do to burden the animal unnecessarily. He could investigate better by himself anyway. Slowly but surely Johannes made his way through the town, occasionally kicking down doors to investigate the inside of buildings. The ash stained to bottom of his pure white frock, but Johannes, for once, paid no attention to such details. He could feel something, something evil, something that opposed all that Johannes stood for. His eyes narrowed at every little shadow and he felt himself drawn to every dark recess to investigate.

Without realizing it, Johannes had drawn his sword. Sweat was slowly forming in his hair beneath his helmet and he found he was licking his lips repeatedly. With a shake of his head he tried to clear himself of doubts. Suddenly, in the corner of his eye, he saw the burned remains of the church of Bergstadt. Instinctively, Johannes sped up and rushed for the church, using his shoulder to bash open the crooked doors and nearly fell through them in his haste. What he saw inside horrified him. Inside the church he could see the burned bodies of the soldiers of the Triumvirate Faith, their armours and weapons molten in the intense heat. The ones unlucky enough to wear armour that didn’t melt were cooked alive in their armours. Suddenly, Johannes realized what was wrong.

Fear expelled from his body, Johannes stood up straight and marched for the corner that pointed northward. There he knelt in prayer to Abilmel. How could he have been such a fool. For a moment, he let fear overwhelm him in the village. He let the lingering fears of the villagers that died in the flames sneak up on him. The fear of losing their families in the flame, the fear of dieing, all the other simply fears of peasant had slowly turned into the fear that one person could have done such damage, the fear of that one person, no matter how much power bestowed upon them by evil, could annihilate an entire city by themselves. His mind had played tricks on him. But now he realized there was no need for fear. He saw it in the eyes and faces of the brave soldiers that died here. They screamed, but none of them were afraid. For they had the Triumvirate behind them and were now safely at their sides, all pain and horror gone from them forever. And with such great power now aligned at Johannes’ back, even the person who delivered this destruction would surely fall to his blade. For he was the White Sword and the Black Shield. And he would cleanse the world of all impurity.

Johannes said his prayer and now prayed for guidance. He felt he would need the help of the Triumvirate to find any trace of this red headed ‘god’ in this burned out husk of a town.

The air seemed to come alive as the mysterious voice spoke. He had not felt too much belligerence before, but now he could almost feel the being’s gaze, like daggers stabbing where his armour was weakest. Johannes noticed he could not hear any other sound beyond the being’s voice. But that was enough, it was slowly, but surely, getting closer. Inching forward, mewling about fear and faith as so many other pathetic beings had done, right before their heads stopped being attached to their necks. But somehow, Johannes doubted this being was like them. His, and a him it was, Johannes decided, words were the same, but his power was nothing like them. Johannes focused on that voice, ignoring the words but attempting to discern a location from it. He was closer now, a few steps at least. A few more moments and his inconsequential blabbering would reveal his location. Suddenly the air shimmered and as if the man had simply been wearing a cloak of shadows, he stepped forth, cloak discarded.

Johannes brought his gaze about, slowly and steadily. His eyes locked with the golden eyes of the mysterious figure. His hand tensed up slightly. This man was a dangerous one indeed. He could see it clearly, in his body language. This was a man who knew every muscle, a man of confidence in his skill and a confidence earned. He kept his eyes focused on those golden orbs, ready for any sign of movement. If this man wanted a fight, he could have it. With the glory of the Triumvirate at his back, Johannes would cleanse the impurity of his soul if needed.

But it seemed the three had not decided these two would clash this day, as suddenly tension fell away when the man suggested the two might have a similar objective. With a grunt Johannes showed his disdain at the suggestion whatever had done this might have been a god.

“Gods? Doubtful. If whatever did this was truly a god, I highly doubt we’d find remains by this point. But you are correct in assuming I seek the destruction of this foul being.”

Johannes returned his gaze to the other man. Trying to discern a motive. He had the poise of a well-trained man, a man used to killing. Johannes had no doubt it was something he had gotten very good at over the years. If they truly sought the demise of the red-headed man, then perhaps he could prove useful. Johannes nodded at the figure, still trying to size him up, his eyes scanning for hidden weapons in the folds of the man clothing. Johannes had seen figures like this before. Brutal murderers, slayers of man. Contract killers. Most could be dismissed as little more than thugs in black cloaks. But this man, this man was the real deal. The ultimate culmination of that profession. Sinful though that profession might be, slaying a false god was more important than eliminating a mere contract killer, surely the Triumvirate agreed.

“Tell me, stranger. I see in you a soul drenched in darkness, yet you are on this same righteous path as I. For that, you have earned a small measure of respect. I would know thy name, so should you succeed, I may honour it, and should you fall on this, the most holy of quests, I might carve it in your tombstone.”

"Look at them, Mireene. They are but little rats that scurry upon mother's body. They eat at her, they hurt her, they shed poisonous blood into her. Do they not know that they are killing her?" Shra asked, his voice shaking, trembling from his rage.

Mireene looked up at him, her eyes wide as she regarded his demeanor. Her hand tightened around his as she returned her rustic gaze to the town. They did, indeed, scurry. Why was it that the mortals were always in such a rush? It seemed that they had no care for anything except themselves and what they needed. Her heart fell.

Her brother squeezed her hand tightly, "Are you ready, my sister?"

With a smile, she nodded to him, "Yes," she answered softly. He released her hand and drew both his blades. Her flute rose to her lips and she began to play a beautiful tune. The music, at first, only filled the air around them. However, as she continued to play the sound increased and next to her, Shra's power grew immensely. Both swords ignited into flame, bursting forth with a loud booming sound.

Those that were near the archway that lead into the little town in the middle of seemingly nowhere, looked out towards the sound and spotted him standing there. At first nothing, but then screams filled the air as Shra rushed the small town. His fire erupted every which way and the more he swung the blades, the more flames that spurted forth. All the while, Mireene continued to play her beautiful music listlessly. Her eyes were closed and her body swayed from one side to the other. There was no danger around her right then and so she wasn't worried about Shra leaving her side.

Her concentration was on her power only, bringing him strength in burning everything to the ground. As the screaming died down in the town, the crackling of the fires grew in its place. Mireene's magic flooded forth via her flute and she slowly pulled the instrument away from her lips as she listened to the last of the dying people inside the town. It wasn't much longer before Shra came out to her again. He was blooded from head to foot, streaks of it crisscrossing over his tall, muscular frame. His long hair whipped back and forth from the heat of the fires as he walked through them.

Slowly, he sheathed his blades that were still ablaze. The fire went out once they entered the sheathes though and he stretched out a bloodied hand to take hers. Mireene put away her flute and took his warm hand in hers. She smiled up at him.

"Another?" she asked softly.

"Yes. Until there is nothing left."

Drezair swallowed them up in her body right after and it was like they were never there, aside from the burning town.

Karvilus Leafgrinder was not happy. Although he was somewhat pleased he managed to nab a tiny scrap of information about the 'gods' he was sent to investigate, the news that both Bergstadt and Kartolheim were annihilated and razed to the ground by a red haired 'god', he was refused to be served in the neighbouring village in the tavern, met with a number of slaps to the face by the local women, and furthermore had to defend himself from some rather zealous watchmen of the Triumvirate faith who thought it was their duty to 'subdue the blight'. To top it all of he had to run all the way out of the village and make his way to Bergstadt on foot.

It simply wasn't going his way today, and cursed under his breath that the only witness was found by soldier of the Triumvirate order, knowing fully well that they'd be branded with heresy. "Knowing my bloody luck, i'll end up at the place with nothing to go on, and everything being ransacked. Huh, be surprised if crows haven't already started pecking at the corpses left.", the elf mercenary grumbled to himself, before giving a frustrated sigh. He knew fully well that the more dubious members of society would have a wonderful opportunity to scavenge on the remainders of a village for anything worth selling, heck, he himself indulged in it a few times thanks to having been hired by less-than-welcomed individuals of society. As he picked up his pace somewhat, he wondered who the red haired god actually was. From what little he knew he might as well of been a baker that went mad, but he knew that such a person would definitely not be called a god. He mused on the possibility of it being a particularly vicious mage of sorts, though merely scratched his head in wonder on what managed to causes such a hubbub in Triumvirate territory. He finally understood why when Bergstadt came into view.

The place was absolutely decimated, the entire area barely anything more than cindered rubble beyond any recognition. As he came into the city itself he saw the corpses that remained in the ashes were little more than half crumbled skeletons, and any flesh left was charred the darkest of black. Nothing looked moveable without collapsing into ash let alone salvage for profit. Karv kept a grim expression on his face as he knew no heartless mage could simply have done this, and wondered if taking up the offer of being hired to find the culprit was a decision that was too foolish. His attention then was diverted to the sudden surprising scream of a man in the distance, to which the elf suddenly sprinted at bewildering speed towards it's source, sprinting among the debris to find a greatly dismayed dwarf clutching a severed hand that was holding a mangled pistol. Normally Karn would be quick to insult a man of dwarven kind as was his way with most he met, especially as elves had little love for their bearded kind, but even he could comprehend the gravity and awfulness of what he saw. He frowned before asking the dwarf gently; "Was it someone you knew?"

Johannes observed the cloaked man as he walked through the church, or what was left of it. He had trouble reading this individual and the experience was rather upsetting. Johannes decided he did not like this man, then and there. He also came to the realization that it was doubtful this man was send here by the will of the Triumvirate. In a way, Johannes was thankful for that, to think such a man would be sent by the will of the three bothered Johannes in more ways than one.

"I am Athos Lorio."

Johannes looked up slightly as he was awakened from his introspective exercise by the voice of the cloaked man. It was not a name he recognized, not that Johannes had expected differently. A man so capable in hiding himself would probably prefer obscurity to infamy. Johannes nodded slightly in response to the man.

“I am Johannes de Witte, holy knight of the Black Cross order.”

Upon saying that Johannes moved for the exit of the church. He wanted to leave this man here and forget all about him. But unfortunately, Johannes lacked the necessary skills to properly track the red haired man. Upon reaching the exit of the church, he turned back to Athos.

“Tell me, have you found any clues as of the location of whoever did this?” Johannes posed his question firmly, to the point it was almost forceful. He wasn’t ashamed to admit he lacked the skill to track this man, each had their own set of skills and to desire more than what the three had given was a sin. Still, he disliked having to ask this man anyway, it left a foul taste in his mouth. But for the sake of his holy quest, he would swallow it down and use whatever source of information he could.

[ignore]

Karvilus and Kalson made their way through the blasted ruins of Bergstadt, searching any intact houses or particularly gruesome scenes for clues. In the end, all they'd found was more hatred for the culprit, along with a fair helping of nausea and pity for the deceased. "Still hope that red haired son of a bitch doesn't have any friends," said Karv. "Dealing with one of these things is already looking to be a nightmare, but more's just going to add further complications." "We'll find a way," said Kalson in his reliably thick accent. "There's go'a be a way. Nothin's impossible, all y'need's the proper amount o' effort and desperation." "Heh, words to live by right there," replied Karv. The two wandered around a bit more, before happening across a strange sight. It appeared a rather tense conversation was taking place between a giant of a man and two smaller individuals, a man and a woman. Seeing this as a potential clue, Kalson and Karv went to go investigate.

As Karvilus and his new found dwarf and automaton companions gained ground towards the strangers, he squinted towards them at confusion before babbling to the dwarf; "Hang on a second, was that masked fella their before? My wonderful eyes never would miss something obvious as that! After all, I can shoot a fly in a forrest miles away from where I stand! And backwards! Ofcourse he must of been hiding! No man coul- Why hello!"
He cut his words short as his attention was diverted, ignoring the masked man, the Triumvirate soldier, and the nobleman to a rather scantily clad woman with an open chest robe, covered in soot, no doubt for trudging in the burned down city. This fact, why this lady was here, or who were any of the unfamiliar men around her were, was not in the slightest of interest or concern to Karv at this point, He almost immediately picked up his great-bow that was taller than Kalson from his back, and quickly grabbed one of his large arrows out of the quiver, and began drawing it.

He turned to Kalson with the obvious glint of a deadly sin glowering in his eyes as he announced; "My dwarven friend, you might be able to see my terrific abilities first hand! It seems some poor unfortunate lady is being harassed by a nobleman and Triumvirate soldier, not doubt the masked man hired to assist them in causing misfortune to poor beauty. You and your rusting toy give me some back if needs be, though with me on the front line, I doubt it would be necessary." He jogged away from the dwarf a few meters before harmlessly firing the first arrow as a warning shot, embedding itself into the charred ground next to the wall the group was standing at. The elf quickly sprinted at blazing speed diagonally to the left, keeping some distance between him, his new friend, and the unknown 'assailants' of the unlucky woman, and began once again drawing his great-bow.
"Gentlemen, you are currently in the aim of one of the greatest archers that graced the earthly plains of Dreivar! This bow I clasp in my very hands is enchanted, and therefore no mere wooden lump for a simple huntsman, and it is not the only thing that is enchanted! I recommend you all step back from the gorgeous young lady who's beauty would make the Triumvirate tosser here reconsider his religious views, before you all suddenly highly resemble a hedgehog."

As Karvilus had a knife against his throat with near to nil chance of escaping the assassin's grasp, the elf mercenary decided he should probably do as the masked man said, and lowered his bow, though not without holding his arrow backwards, pointing at the man's nether regions. If he was going to be killed, it would at least bring a smile to his face the fact he would leave the earthly plain by impaling the assassin's manhood with an arrow in hand. Before he could think of a way to bluff himself out of the situation, Kalson was aiming a pistol at the assassin's head, his construct guardian not far behind, to which he grinned in relief. which melted somewhat as he and the assassin began arguing, the man who had a knife against his throat pointing out the dwarf's 'flaws', to which the elf sighed before adding; "Just shoot this son of a b**ch tiny! I'll make it out of this alright, trust me, been in worse scrapes before and came out on top, just one of my multitude of examples of brilliance I suppose."

Before he could add anything to his comment however he met with the puzzling sight of the Triumivirate knight storming off, complaining he was sick of the present company, causing the nobleman, who upon closer inspection was a fellow elf, went into a furious rant against them all, berating them of their arrogance and foolish behaviour. He explained to them all that those behind the destruction of Kartolheim and Bergstadt were not of anything that was known, and everyone would need to cooperate to stand against this menace, to which Karv partly agreed, and then noted; "Wait, so you lot aren't hassling the poor lass who is a picture of perfect beauty here?"
His words fell on deaf ears as the sudden appearance of the two gods occurred right before their eyes, one with red hair and twin blades as described by the survivor, who just unleashed a fiery fury around the area, accompanied by a beautiful petite woman who played a flute, which oddly also made the heat much more unbearable.

Much to Karv's relief, the assassin decided to let go of him, causing him to be baffled for a few moments, especially at the sudden chaotic events, especially bewildered by the dwarfs sudden change, before quickly grabbing his bow and drawing it with three arrows at the same time, and rushing to atop a pile of debris which gave him somewhat a better vantage point and took aim at the red haired man. He then suddenly heard the firm order of the blonde elf, to which Karv hesitated for a few moments, frowning at the musical beauty, before giving himself a slap in the face and grumbling to himself; "You're a bloody mercenary for Yggdrasil's sake, now act like it! Pity I have to shoot at someone as lovely looking a sher but hey, she's a psychopath 'god'."
He then swerved and fired his three arrows at Mireene with a flinch, unaware at the appearance of Athos behind his target before deciding to bellow down at his new companions; "Just so you sorry bunch know, I am a former healer! I know how to treat a wound or two, anything serious needs fixing give a holler!"
Karv decided he best of let them know about it as soon as possible, a battle against gods was no place for lack of information.

This was impossible. Johannes stood as the heat suddenly surrounded him, wide eyed and confused. He had not yet dared look around be he could hear the chaos caused by the flames. He did not dare look. It was as if he had spoken of the foul dark one and it had appeared, as it so often did in the holy scriptures. He had his hand on the hilt of his sword and squeezed, but he could not bring himself to draw it. He was frozen, all he could do was slowly turn around and face the great evil from the inferno.

But what he saw was no such thing. What he saw was chaos, fire and anger, desperation and most of all, battle. Johannes knew battle and it knew him. The confusion faded from his mind and years of hard training and experience in war settled in its place. He could see clearly now. The elf, arrogantly shouting orders, but they were clearly accurate and well thought trough. Music suddenly reached his ears then, a beautiful song. For a moment, Johannes feared it, but that was soon replaced with a calm he had never felt. Someone was playing the song of war and death and Johannes knew it note for note.

The dwarf charged forward, suddenly much larger than Johannes remembered. Did his clan possess the secrets of the berserker rage? Johannes wondered, but found the dwarf did not draw his eyes. It was the woman and she was rushing towards him. Did she panic and simply run in a random direction? It did not seem like it to Johannes. He couldn't figure it out. All he knew was that he had a chance to redeem his earlier shameful and rash actions.

When she reached him he spoke to her, calmly, yet firmly. “Stand behind me and no harm shall befall you.” He had no time to check whether she followed his directions, the crimson demon was not the kind of opponent that warranted taking your eyes off him. Johannes nodded quietly to himself, before drawing his sword and holding it straight up in front of him, the tip reaching for the heavens and the blade vertically in front of his face. Johannes lowered his head slightly and he could feel the favour of the Triumvirate.

“With sword in hand, I shall cleanse the world of impurity.” Johannes said, his voice calm and of normal strength, even as a faint glow settled on his sword.
“I am the white sword that cuts away at the darkness.” He continued, his voice growing in strength, even as his sword began to glow a pure white.
“I am the black shield, which guards the innocent.” His voice slowly began to take on booming qualities, slowly spreading across the battlefield, even as his shield began to glow, the divine aura spreading beyond the size of the triangular heater shield.
“I am the black cross under which the faithful rest! I am Johannes de Witte and in Their names, I shall smite thee!” His final prayer, his final battlecry carried it with it all the strength that hid within Johannes. Even as his armour began to glow like his sword and shield, all now filled with divine magic. Johannes stood there for a moment, before glancing back at the woman.

“My name is Johannes and you will be safe behind me.” He said, adding an unseen smile from behind his helmet. He didn't know if this woman could protect herself. But if she couldn't, the best way to protect the weak was to slay the wicked. With that in mind Johannes charged, his massive body faster than one might expect, like a charging bull he raced for the crimson demon as both the elf and the dwarf engaged him.

When he came within range he lifted his glowing white sword, its divine magic whistling as he swung it through the air and brought it down upon the crimson demon, for once taking care not to cut down the dwarf along with him.

"Elf, shoot the other one!"

Shra glanced over at the one who issued the order. A loud sound interfered with his thoughts and as he was about to swing and cut through the woman, a short man with a wicked looking weapon attacked him. Shra glowered at the dwarf who was swinging the grinding weapon at him. Using both blades, he managed to get the weapon away from doing any serious damage. Even so, the blade cut against his side as he shifted it. This infuriated him. The flames around the blades burst, extending outwards as he shoved at the dwarf to knock him over.

The dwarf had been insane, attacking him in such a fashion. The small cut along his side burned slightly and gave him cause to be more than just a little angry. The insolent little thing had cut him. Then to add to it, the knight had returned to the battled and swung his brightened sword, slashing heavily. Shra twisted, slamming his weapon into the sword to knock it off to the side. He moved quickly, nearly a blur for his rage fueled him. He made to slam the other sword through the damned humans armor and cut him down in one single blow.

As he came close, shoving the sword at the knight there was a startling shout from behind him. Shra immediately disengaged from that fight and put enough space between himself and the others to assist his sister. Whirling around, he slashed the blades through the air, working his fire to cut off whoever it was that was attacking his sister. His fire would not hurt her, but anyone near her would certainly be burned. A wall of flame came up between Mireene and her attackers, protecting her and cutting them off from hurting her further.

"Mireene," he called knowing that she would know what he wanted then. The music that had been playing that turned the area into an inferno had stopped. However, once he'd freed her from those that attacked her, the music from her flute played once again. The tune was much different and his power grew immensely. He stood for a moment, drinking in her fueling magic and then faced the two who had attacked her. They were going to pay for that. Shra shifted his body just enough and then burst forward at them, dust and dirt kicking up as he moved via his own magic.

As he got closer, he swung at both of them, aiming for the hooded and cloaked mans' head and aiming for the woman's abdomen as he went. The fires leaped forward, licking outwards at them in a hungry attempt to burn them to nothing but ash.



A barrage of arrows assaulted her, but Mireene's eyes watched them come at her and she nimbly dodged each of them, continuing to play her flute as she did so.

"Your song of death is beautiful, let me play you mine..."

Her heart jumped as a hand clenched her flute and brought it down from her lips. The heat in the area faded away, aside from the already burning flames. Her rustic gaze widened slightly as the man appeared in front of her out of no where. It reminded her a lot of Kharun, except he always faded in and out of black darkness. His knife came at her, shoved right at her face. She twisted away, dodging as best she could from the sudden attack.

Even so, the weapon cut across her high cheek bone and she gave a shout, one of anger and surprise. Then from the side someone else jumped into the fight with her. They leapt down at her, swinging their blade. Mireene's hand tightened around her flute and she swiftly dodged out of the way, the weapon cutting her dress only as she moved. Shra must have heard her shout for a moment after she was wreathed in fire. Part of her hoped that the one who'd cut her face would be burned to nothing as she wrenched her flute free and replaced it to her lips.

Hearing her brothers call, she began to play again, fueling his strength. After several moments of playing to increase his magic and abilities, she added to the song and used the heat of the fires around her to begin heating the area once again. The mixture of notes played softly from her flute, echoing out towards the very edges of the destroyed town.

Barley with enough time to avoid the searing heat that surrounded the Crimson Man Athos fought to stay alive. As the blades of roaring flame came for him they scorched only air. The blades came for his head but in the last moment Athos vanished, reappearing a few paces away. Falling to his knee the super heated air had filled his lungs just before he vanished and he was still choking on the almost volcanic air in his lungs. Sweat beaded down his face as his eyes seemed to lose focus. His mind was struggling with the event as his body fought for cool air to return to him. Athos was replaying the last few seconds, which could have easily been his last few seconds, over again in his head as he quietly muttered to himself.

"Impossible... it's impossible, no one could have avoided that, no one..."

He was in shock. Complete and utter, terrifying shock at the what had just transpired. He had her, he had the woman dead to rights yet somehow she evaded his killing blow. How many times had he slain others in a similar fashion? How many lives had he taken with that same tactic? At that range no one should have been able to dodge that strike yet she had done so. Athos stared out into the dirt as time seemed to stand still for his mind to comprehend the impossible thing that had just transpired. He remembered lunging forward, blade poised to burrow itself in the pretty young womans face. He remembered the surprise in her eyes as she flicked them open. He remembered the rush of wind as his blade missed it's mark. The quiet, the crushing silence before she brought the flute to her lips once more. Then came the heat and the fury, fueled by concern and her other worldly music.

Athos slowly rose his gaze to the fire wielder with wide eyes of disbelief, the blades had swung wide sending torrents of flame arcing out from the epicenter to engulf anything nearby in flame. Such raw, unadulterated power the likes of which he had never witnessed. What could he do against such unbridled strength. What chance could he stand when he couldn't even land a single blow?!

His fist clenched around the dagger still in his hand and it was then he noticed the blood. Still dripping from the tip of his blade the crimson substance ran along the edge of the blade to the point before forming tiny droplets on the tip. A wicked, dark smile etched its way onto the assassin's face as his golden eyes refocused and looked up. The blood of a god stained his blade, a miraculous thing if these things were in fact gods at all. He could cut them, they could bleed after all, they were fallible and he just proved that to himself. They could die and they would, with luck they would go painfully.

Athos slowly rose to his feet, his eyes fixed on the Crimson Man. Ready to finish what he started with the girl he would first need to get some space from the warrior. He'd need to wound him or at least busy him fighting away from the girl so he could hack her damned arms off so she couldn't raise that flute again. Menacingly Athos' hand reached to his back and drew his sword, a rare thing for him to do for there were few that would live long enough that he'd actually have to engage but this was a special circumstance.

The assassin launched his hellish assault. Vanishing from sight only to reappear at the Crimson Man's side Athos slashed viscously before dissappearing in the next instant and reappearing on a different side of him to slash again and a again. Fighting beside this mysterious armored woman the assassin moved with such speed and erratic teleportations his movements could barley be tracked with the naked eye.

It appeared the blood of two gods would stain the assassin's blade this day.

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."

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.

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."