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Long Live the King

the Kingdom of Magna

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a part of Long Live the King, by VitaminHeart.

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VitaminHeart holds sovereignty over the Kingdom of Magna, giving them the ability to make limited changes.

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the Kingdom of Magna is a part of Long Live the King.

2 Places in the Kingdom of Magna:

12 Characters Here

Alessa Skorn [0] Skorn's daughter, she acts as an inside agent for the rebellion.
Cornelius Skorn [0] A powerful Necromancer who will employ whatever means necessary to insure the ascendence of Magna and his rightful place as its ruler.
Healer Giovanni [0] A rebel assassin who has mastered the art of poisons and medicine.
Adela Hunter [0] "Im not strong but Ill do what I can"
Kora Neverwinter [0] Heir to the House of Neverwinter....and not very pleased.
Sir Gar Locke [0] Rebellion Leader, and public enemy of Skorn
Saraf Vasiki [0] A quiet but determined agent for the rebellion
Spectre [0] Skorn's apprentice, utterly decicated to the cause, almost scarily so.
Ailill of Silvar [0] Knowledgeable and respected Council member and advisor of the Rebellion. Known among the rebels as Juve.
Prince Morpeth Aelthen [0] The rightful heir to the throne.

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Shaar threw the crossbow to the ground. It would take too long to reload to be of any further use. He would deal with Locke, sooner or later. But he was right, Specter wouldn't last much longer without medical treatment, practical or magical. Then again, he didn't think it would matter in the end, she would either pass on here or pass on over his shoulder as he fled. He could either kill the rebellion leader here and cripple it's efforts, or he could save Specter and deal with the scum some other time.

"One mere man? Don't be so modest! You lead the rebellion...Killing you would save the lives of hundreds of troops. Specter's life for hundreds more? Seems like a fair trade."

Before Shaar could inform Gar that he wasn't looking much better than Shaar appearance wise, he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. It was that girl that had run off earlier when the demon thundered through. She was helping Specter? Ugh, the rebels really needed to get their act together if they honestly thought it was in their best interest to nurse back to health the woman who just summoned a demon and killed a good amount of rebel troops. Honestly, Shaar never bore witness to the rebels extending that privilege to Skorn's living soldiers. Maybe they were just that stupid?

He looked at Nym, frustrated. How had she managed to sneak up behind him like that? Did he really have time to think about it? He turned to look at Locke, finally making up his mind.

"There's nothing to be done. Her wounds are too severe. She will either die here or on her way to get treatment. So instead of wasting my time trying to help her, I think I will make sure her death will not be in vain by ending the threat you pose once and for all."

Shaar took the spear off his back, holding it in two of his four hands. He was a demon in his own right, a demon of speed and agility. Two exhausted rebels and a child would be no match for him.

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#, as written by Tsoibe
Thorwulf waited inside the cell, close to the door. Since he entered the dungeon he felt this strange urge, as if it turn around, because you were watched. He was unable to define the source of this, it seemed to come from the walls, than it was emitting from the air. Sometimes this feeling was maddeningly intense, as if someone was staring into your eyes, than as if it was only a bystander from far away. At first Thorwulf had attributed this to Skorn's evil presence, his evil deeds that hung like a thick fog all over and within a castle. Than happened something others would barely noticed, but Thorwulf had grown a little paranoid working so close to the castle every day, not that the night in the prison had helped much. This presence of evil thickened around Morpeth for just a moment, before disbanding into the walls again. The prince seemed to be rather shocked for the short time after, a clear sign that it was indeed Skorn. Alerted by this looked over at the rest of the group, Adela should have noticed it, too. They were discovered, Skorn's minions should be on their way already. Morpeth was right, they had to leave, now. There were already footsteps and silent whispers closing in towards the cell's open door. He turned towards the others, whispering a few words.

"You should leave... I will buy us some time."

Thorwulf tried to make clear that they won't have any time for further discussions. He didn't hear the rattling of armors before, that the common guards would make, nor the scuffling of limps on the stone, that indicated undead. This meant that those that would wait outside were with far more expertise. Their only advantage was the invisibility of the other three, the moment of surprise. Thorwulf would stay hard to notice, even while moving, but he highly doubted that he could pass those that waited outside. He moved his lips, but there were no words coming out. Only barely noticeable were his arms moving in wide circular patterns, the motions blurred back into wall behind. He felt the flow of magic sweeping out of him, like the water of a river that had been contained by a dike. The soft wave of it swept through the whole cell, embracing everyone within, taking their forms. Exhausted Thorwulf sat back against the cold stone, his eyes shut by concentration. Wave after wave crawled through the room, those that covered the people in the room started to glow in a soft golden light. It felt warming to the touch, as if there was a soft skin above their own. The slightly glowing duplicate of everyone parted from the original, leaving a cold feeling where it was warm before. Next to the invisible rebels stood exact copies of them in matters of figure and slightly appearance, though seemingly without solidity or skin. They looked like they were made of light pressed into a physical form. The others were now invisible even to those that could perceive the arcane world, their auras now glistening around those figures of light. Each of rebels would feel breathless for a short moment, except Thorwulf, who barely breathed at all. The one that resembled Morpeth held a sword of pure light that resembled the original, the light on Saraf's crawled down his arm to his hand, forming a scimitar, shining as bright as that blade of Morpeth. Rancon's ghost did something very similar, creating a larger variant of Saraf's scimitar, held easily by the figure with both hands. The bright copies of Adela and Thorwulf each created long daggers in one of their hands, they appeared even sharper than real ones.

Each of them stood in a circle, facing each other. Everyone in the room was able to feel the immense energy that was required to hold each of these figures together, they warmed up the air and ground around them. Then without another second passing, all of the five light beings charged out of the door. The glowing auras made them obvious to the Death Bringers waiting outside. They were fast to react, the persons that left the door didn't seem as if they would surrender. The four archers fired their arrows with deadly precision at four of the heads, but the two first beings that stepped outside, blocked each with an uncanny speed. With a blurred motion, because of instability rather than speed, were the next two out of the cell. Rancon's figure swung its double-handed scimitar at the next Death Bringer to the left, who was barely able to hold that massive axe into the attack, catching it before it would behead the skilled warrior. One of the shinning shades, the one that looked like the prince, dashed to the right, with his sword ready to stab. The assassin caught the attack with his twin blades, pushing the blade to the side, only moments before it would move through the chest. The two that first exited the door, jumped, or better hovered, to the other side, close to the archers, while they readied another set of arrows. The glowing copy of Saraf slashed its scimitar horizontally towards the archers, splitting the bow in half, as the Death Bringer tried to block with it. The other, seemingly empty hand dared forward, unleashing a brightly glowing knife at the archer, piercing his chest. It looked painfully, thought there was no blood coming out of the wound, there wasn't even one visible. None the less did the hit archer sink down to his knees, his face a mask of pain. The form of light, that resembled Adela was already standing in front of the other archer, who was fast enough to draw his own dagger. One could see ghostly images of daggers hitting twice between them, like a vision from another dimension, but the real dagger of the ghost of light was already buried deep in the Death Bringer's neck. Like the other he went down, holding the not existent wound with both his hands.

The sudden attack, the strength and speed of these beings, surprised even the seasoned Death Bringers. After they surpassed the first shock, they were able to finally act in this combat. The three mages, that waited behind the others, started to chant. Each of them sounded like a chorus of different, disharmonious voices, frightening and loud. The man with the halberd swung it downwards from behind his comrade with the two swords. Morpeth's shade held his sword against it, blocking the attack, while fighting off the rapid rain of blades of the other assassin. The man with the great axe managed to free himself from the situation to smash his weapon against the glowing shade, who evaded the blow by pushing the attacker against his comrade with the shield, letting the later fall to the ground. The two remaining archers had applied new arrows to their bows, shooting them towards the figures on their side of the corridor. The shade of Saraf dodged the arrow, throwing a knife in return that cut the bowstring, piercing the heart of the archer. Adela's shade seemed to move straight towards the arrow and get hit for a moment, before appearing only an inch to the side of it, so the arrow wouldn't even scratch it. One of the mages, the one that let the stone around him tremble slightly already, was about to finish his spell, before his concentration was interrupted by a dagger piercing through his throat.

The flames that were unleashed by one of the chanting mages heated the whole corridor, manifesting in one massive beam of red fire. Unstoppable it moved towards the shade that looked like Rancon. Just as the massive scimitar moved right through the body of the axeman, both were fully devoured by the flames, leaving nothing but dust behind. Both bodies, those that was of flesh and bones and the one of pure magic was totally destroyed, the stones at the wall glowing from the heat. During this time did the duplicate of Prince Morpeth managed to spin both blades of his opponent towards the opening, while kicking off the feet of his opponent, sending him flying downwards, as it pushed the body against the Death Bringer. This left the light being open to the following attack of the man with the halberd. As the shade of the prince would be beheaded, it disintegrated into nothingness. In the air around the other mage filled with sharp icicles, all raining down at the shade of Saraf in front of him from various directions. The shade's speed even surpassed that of the original, so even before it was pierced by the overwhelming numbers, another dagger pierced the head of the mage. The mage was screaming painfully as he fell down over the railing, smashing into the ground. Still the rain of icicles was already flying, piercing the shinning figure, just a second before it disappeared. The shade of Thorwulf, that had killed the earth mage, had moved between the one with the mace and the remaining mage. The mage exploded in a burst of flame, as the light being just moved into him. The fire burned much of the skin of the man close by. The remaining archer of the Death Bringers found himself falling without even recognizing to be hit, the last thing he saw were ghostly images of possibilities, that were or could have been done by the shade of Adela. The figure of light jumped over to attack the last of the Death Bringers, as he swung the blade of the halberd. Both found themselves hitting each other at the same time. The Death Bringer held his forehead in pain as he fell to his knees, screaming out the pain. Now as all shades were gone, the scene that was there, looked far more surprising than one could have imagined. All Death Bringers lay on the floor, either upstairs or on the ground below, screaming in pain or already unconscious. Within the prince's cell you could hear a seemingly lifeless body drop to the floor from exhaustion.

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#, as written by Seerow
“Yeah can’t wait for this day to end either,” he grumbled glancing back to Kora. They were all battle weary, and how the Neverwinter retainer managed to this particular conflict he wasn’t sure. She looked worse then he did, but somehow she had the resolve to carry on with her duties. He was thankful for her aid, and for Nym’s careful hands. Now it was a matter of getting around this newcomer.

“You could kill me and every member of the Rebellion this night, but the deaths wouldn’t stop. Not a day passes by that he doesn't take from Magna‘s children. A thousand faces I have seen vanish before him back when there was no one willing to oppose him. Everything in the heavens hates Skorn, and to hell with him! To hell with you if you follow!”

He crept a few steps forward, careful to stay far enough away from Shaar’s spear. Knowing well that a quick lunge could easily double its length when reaching for an opponent. Pathfinder remained vertical and was kept upraised by two hands, a defensive position designed to react with powerful parries. Gar wasn’t going to open with an offensive. Not when there was a chance the strange being would back down.

“This wasn’t our war, we are not soldiers. We are farmers and outcasts, and orphans… Yet it falls upon us. If we don’t stand up to him, no one will. I revere life, I want to save that girl. You're the only one standing in the way.”

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Kora placed bahrgeist's point against the ground, though gripped the hilt tightly. By the point the burns on her hands had damaged the nerves and become numb enough the it didn't bother her...not the greatest solution, but she supposed it suited the situation.
"Think logically for a moment as to how Skorn's magic works. He cannot resurrect the dead fully, not as they were before. They lose who they are. Even if you did get that necromancer's body back, she'd end up just like the rest of them...except probably a rather inferior specimen in comparison. You're putting yourself at personal risk for another piece of walking arrow fodder. Not wanting to come up with your plans for you, but you could always pop up and try and steal that squeaky little nuisance from us some other time if you're still fixated on it, but at least currently, you'd probably be better off concentrating on more important things." she stated.
She really had no idea why Gar wanted the necromancer around, but this wasn't the time to question his logic. They had to be pulling in one direction for the moment, and could argue about it later.

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#, as written by Jacopo
Rancon didn't waste any time. The moment Thorwulf made it clear that he would provide a sufficient distraction for them to escape, the burly rebel grabbed the Prince's arm, pulling him towards the exit, looked over his shoulder to make sure Adela was following, and threw Saraf over his shoulder when the Black Prince attempted to pull out a set of knives to aid Thorwulf. The clashing of weapons and bodies behind him made it seem as if Thorwulf had conjured an entire army to fight in their stead; Rancon shook his head in brief wonderment before turning his attention back to the tunnels; he could see in the distance a door that led to the outside.

"Rancon, put me down!" Saraf wheezed, futilely pummeling at the man's back. "Thorwulf! I have to-"

"If you went back, Prince, then both of you would be lost. There is no hope of defeating the Death Bringers and escaping this cursed palace alive." Rancon's heart felt heavy as he said it, but it was the cold truth of the matter. "Thorwulf knew that. We'll just have to try and rescue him later."

Disappointed, Saraf accepted the truth in Rancon's words and stopped struggling. "Till all are one," he muttered softly, emerald eyes flashing towards the corridor where Thorwulf was still fighting, looking like two lamps in the darkness. We'll come back for you, Thorwulf. I promise.

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Adela wiped at the stone uncovering the mortar lines around it when she felt her stomach drop, it was the feeling of falling, a pulse of adrenalin rushed through her body, and for a moment she felt dizzy. She heard Saraf speak and was tugged to her feet by the prince, blinking she let herself be pulled along for a moment as she gathered her thoughts. As Thorwulf told them to leave she looked at him in disbelief, as he began conjuring she gulped heavily. They had been the ones who were supposed to be rescued and that was what she saw in her vision, not one of them being stuck in this horrible dungeon.
Taking a deep shaky breath she pulled away from the others looking at them seriously. “I can get us out, as long as we aren’t caged I can do It.” she looked at Saraf “leave it to me, I saw us escaping and that is what will happen. You all go; it will be easier if I only have to watch the future of myself and one other.”

She shivered gently as she spoke, it was obvious she was scared but her crimson eyes held determination and confidence in her abilities. She turned and rushed back to the cage, knowing there was no time to waste. Once she got there she began moving around curiously, taking hay and loose stones and moving them to various places around them. She could see the possibility of captors coming, and she saw the paths they would take. She moved things so that they would trip up those who might come to get them if only for a second, but that second would be all she needed to avoid them.

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Alessa leaned against the wall.
The entire rebel rescue had caught her off-guard, she hadn't expected them to get inside so quickly. But she had been watching as the prince seemed to search for something. What could he want? What could possibly be in the dungeons that he desired? What could he need?
Saraf seemed focused on helping the prince so she had left with the other prisoners. He would assume that was where she had gone and hopefully would not worry, she didn't want to cause him torment. But as the prisoners made their way out, she held back, hiding in a small alcove in the corridor while she thought about what to do. Lanmo knew she was Asela, but she believed everything she needed to defeat her father was here in the castle so although she could not continue to give information from inside, neither could she afford to leave the castle altogether. She needed some answers before she planned her next move so, moving into the most shadowed part of the alcove, she clutched the onyx pendant around her neck.
"Shadus plaus darkos walkus..."
And then she was enveloped in shadow, any who looked into the alcove would see nothing of her, no trace of her being there at all.

Alessa had travelled to the dark plains. The realm of shadow. All was black around her, and yet everything was clear. And as she waited, sure enough, the shape of a man appeared before her. All clad in black with long black hair, pure white skin and obsidian black eyes was Noir the Darkling, her guardian and guide to the plains.
"Well Alessa, it is certainly pleasant to see you again after all this time. Although from the look on your face we take it this is not a social call." He said softly, raising an eyebrow at her.
"I have questions that need answers, urgently."
"As always, we shall do our best to answer. Please, go ahead."
"Prince Morpeth is in the castle, he seems to be searching for something. Do you know what and where it is?"
"The only thing we can tell for certain is that the artifact is of great power, and that they were looking in the wrong place. Not long after your father came to power, many magical objects were moved within the palace. However, we are able to track this particular one down to it's new location."
"Can you take me and the rebels there?"
"Only you and one other none-shadow creature."
"I see." Alessa hesitated a moment. "One more thing, what do you know about Shade's and their masters? The shade that my father has summoned mentioned something about protecting his master's bloodline."
"We would think you could guess that Alessa, although shadow magic and necromancy are different they both use blood magic. As long as either you or your brother are alive, Lanmo lives and serves whomever is alive. After your father's death, one of you will be able to claim his service for your own." He frowned, staring at Alessa suspiciously. "We hope you're being careful Alessa, we do care about you and let's face it, you have a habit of attracting trouble."
"I assure you Noir, I will not be your concern for much longer."
"No riddles please Alessa, that is our job."
Alessa smiled.
"Goodbye."


As she returned to the normal world, Alessa knew what she had to do.
"I can only hope that someday you can forgive me Saraf." She said softly, before touching her pendant once more.
"Shadus Saraf traveus..."
Using the shadows, she travelled to where Saraf, Rancom and the Prince were, timing it so she appeared behind Saraf whilst he had stopped.
"Saraf! Forgive me for sneaking up on you but I had to find you all. The artifact you seek, the shadows know of it. I can take you to it safely." She said earnestly, her voice filled with genuine sincerity and eagerness to help. Surely the prince would realise the significance of this information, they may not get another chance to find the artifact, whatever it was. Alessa couldn't help but wonder what was so important but anyway, as long as she got them to it that was what mattered.

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#, as written by Valor
Nym looked up as the creature said something of how Spectre's wounds were too great to waste time on, catching his glance, Nym flashed a sheepish grin as she tied the last of her makeshift bandages as tightly as she could. The tighter they were, the more chance of stopping the bleeding, she was sure that was the rule. She held her torn cloak before her, grimacing as she saw there was only half of it left in a ragged mess. Now she was going to be cold, and seen by all when she went into town.
Sighing heavily, she folded the rest of the cloak into a rough pillow.
"Be thankful, if your cloak wasn't so bloodied I would've taken it for myself." She grumbled as she gently lifted Spectre's head to put the pillow underneath.

Nym quickly glanced up again, seeing that all of Gar, Kora and this strange creature were ready to take on one last fight. It was two against one, but Kora and Gar were already exhausted from the battles before this. If she wasn't so busy trying to keep Spectre alive for Gar, then she would've stood beside them too. She had to teach that oversized bug a lesson for calling her a mere child.
It was then she noticed Spectre's head lulling to the side, her eyes gently closing as if she were asleep.
"Oi! Oi! Don't sleep! I can't tell if you're alive if you're asleep..." She said rather loudly as leant over Spectre and gently slapped at her face over and over till the girl awoke. It wasn't nearly as hard as her first hit.

"Although, if you come back and try to kill me, I'll have a pretty good idea that you're gone..." She mumbled to herself, checking that she hadn't missed any fatal wounds. "Talk to me! Tell me a story, anything! Maybe even how you became Skorn's apprentice...?" Anything to get the girl awake and talking, anything to tell her that the girl was still alive.

~~~

Morpeth wasn't allowed time to see what the army of light that Thorwulf had conjured up was going to do, Rancon having taken him by the arm and practically dragging him out of the dungeon through the hidden corridor that he had opened up. Saraf was in no position to try and argue and get his way back onto the battlefeild, Rancon holding the man strongly on his shoulder - much to Saraf's disapproval by the look of things.
Morpeth paused for a moment as Adela told them to go on and let her set up her little traps for who ever was going to follow. He could only trust her in what she was doing, not all together knowing what power the woman had to stop what was going to follow them.

He had to run to catch up with Rancon again, this time only to be stopped by Alessa. His eyes narrowed slightly as the girl appeared from the shadows, the daughter of Skorn herself. He never would fully trust anyone by that name, however she had not taken part in his imprisonment or torture, Morpeth would not take his anger out on her. She apparently knew where the shard was, glancing at Saraf from behind Rancon to get his view on this.
"We should get it now, while we have the help of another. If Skorn realises what we're looking for, he might move it again, or worse destroy it."

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By that time, all Spectre really wanted to do was to go to sleep, but as she got slapped several times across the face several times she realized that it probably wasn't going to happen. She forced her eyes oepn, trying to focus on the figure of Nym, who appeared more as a vague blur.

She listened to what she was saying, gatheirnf that there was probably a good reason to keep her talking, and began trying to think of an answer. It was a rather long pause before she'd come up with an intelligable answer.
"..I..SKorn took me in...when I was...three..." she rasped, pausing for a few moments to cough.
"...after my mother and father were killed...by the King's men..."

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Shaar looked at Locke and then back to the woman with the large sword. Admitedly, they had a point. Skorn probably wanted Specter alive...Maybe he could just spring her loose when they had played their part and healed her. One of them had already snuck up behind him and started working on her wounds. Yes, it would be easier to leave her here and come get her at a later date. For now, there were troops in the rebel camp that needed to recover their advantage. The loss of the demon would be a hit to morale...That is, if any were left living and had not merely been turned into undead abominations.

Shaar spun his spear faster than any human eyes could follow it. It looked to just be a blurry circle of movement. He suddenly stopped and sprinted full speed at Locke and the other woman, but before either party could come into range with their weapons, Shaar jumped. He propelled himself over them, landing a few feet behind them. One of these days another opportunity for the head of Locke would present itself. For now, he'd ensure the rebels in the camp were eradicated.

The insectoid mercenary snarled something in a foreign language before sprinting off towards the battle.

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#, as written by Seerow
The strange encounter had drawn to its conclusion with the creature pole-vaulted over the line and was off to the skirmish. The tension that had run so high now settled, but for the Commander the brief reprieve offered no relief. They were losing this war all on the course of a few days, and saving everyone was impossible. Doubt crept into his thoughts, and his face became solemn with grief. How had Skorn anticipated their every move?
He faced back to where the armies were clashing. A clear view wasn’t needed to guess what was happening. They were falling apart, brave men and women paying the ultimate price for his failures. Gar drew deep breaths, trying to soothe the burning of his lungs. Holding back an outcry of frustration, it all seemed so hopeless.

“We have to retreat.. Let’s get the men called back. We’ll break for Aerie Peak.”

He couldn’t even start to formulate any plans on safely transporting Spectre, ultimately he wanted to spare her life and yet there were far more pressing matters. Placing his faith wholly upon Nym, he began after Shaar of the Golden Sands. Taking the same path that led back into the fray.
By the time he could reach the frontlines the rebels were desperate and frightened. For every enemy felled it would soon rise again twisted by the wiles of necromancy. Friends and foe alike were upraised, standing on dead feet with soulless eyes. A harrowing sight, but a prime example of why they fought Skorn’s tyranny.

“Sons of Magna, fall back! Escape these devils that we may face them again someday. Flee my friends to the mountain where the dead cannot tread so easily. Retreat, retreat, retreat!”

His call was hoarse, but it wouldn’t take long to spread on the winds of battle. The rebellion was routing, its dead enemies lacking their fleet feet would be hard pressed to give any sort of chase. Still Gar ventured into the front lines, Pathfinder ringing free from its sheath and lashing out at their foes. He would buy every member as much time as possible, and his blade would find its fill of gore.