Scrolls of Iria

Annette

"Come on little one -you need to drink this or you won't feel better!" Annette cooed, trying to get the kitten to sip at the Cayenne tea she'd brewed to treat its cold. Instead, the mostly-black calico wrinkled her damp, watery nose at the drink and turned her head away while trying to escape the girl's grasp. This had gone on for the past hour, however, and she was close to being fed up with the kitten's pickiness.

"Jinx." She warned, moving her other hand so as to hold the kit about her small skull and keep her still. "Drink. It will make you better if you'd just try it." Holding the small clay cup up to the kit's mouth, she tipped the rim until a drop of the now-cold liquid brushed Jinx's muzzle.

Unable to deny instinct, the kitten licked her lips, then lapped at the drink before she spat and squirmed out of Annette's grasp when she realized she'd just ingested something foul. Jinx slunk under the small, ragged cot in the corner, glaring at Annette for all she was worth with her large, bright amber eyes, but the girl just smiled wryly and went to pour out the rest in the kit's water-bowl. She would have to drink more of it now if the only liquid in the room was from there -and her cold would finally be beat if Annette had anything to say about it.

"Now i can finally go to bed." she yawned, tugging off her vambraces and tunic -she wasn't in the mood to take off her dress, so she'd just sleep in that and put on the other pieces of her uniform in the morning. Hardly anyone would notice anyways-

A scream from outside her door had her freezing in place.

Lord almighty -who's up at this time of night!? she thought, eyes wide as she backed up towards the opposite wall. Her heart seemed to remember to beat then, but it was beating far too loud now, too fast. Panic began to creep into her limbs as her mind flitted between all the different possible situations that could have just occurred outside her bedroom. Murder? A prank? Had to be a prank -this Keep was as safe as any she had ever known.

Well... the only one she had ever known.


After a long pause, she bit her bottom lip and edged towards the door, ears straining for any other sound. Then jumped when Jinx made a pitiful mewling noise and skittered out from beneath the bed towards her.

"Oh gosh you scared me Jenka!" she said, using the kit's nickname before she scooped up the tiny ball of fur and placed it on her shoulder. Jinx had learned to stay on her shoulder like a parrot while Annette did any cleaning about the Keep- so the kitten didn't need too much watching most days. Didn't mean that she never got into trouble.

"Shh." she whispered, creeping towards the door again and grasping the handle.

It took several long moments before she got up the courage to open it, and the creak of rusty hinges nearly had her leaping back into her bedroom.

"Charlotte? Elise?" Annette called, glancing down the halls. No one was there -maybe it had just been a prank.

Still... that scream had sounded much too real to have been anything else. Even a prank didn't register that kind of violent outburst... Worried and more than a little scared, she crept up the stairs towards the next level in the Keep. The sight of two guards walking by further down the hall had her stopping in her tracks.

Blood poured down in rivulets along their blades and armor, and they eyes glowed a deep crimson behind their helms. Even from the side, even not being noticed by them, was enough to petrify her. Despite the deep blue of their cloaks that made a feeble attempt to drown out the hellish-glint in their gazes and postures, she knew that they were sent to kill, and nothing else.

Breath hitching in her throat, Annette edged further along the wall and slipped into a side stairwell that led deeper into the keep. Maybe she could hide in the cellars until this all blew over. Yes, the cellars sounded perfectly safe at this time.

Much safer than the room the guards were currently smashing into.

Annette fled down the darkened steps, the wail of a terrified servant echoing in her ears.

 

Thomas, Mordin, Serana, William, Leanna - Down under.

"Here," Thomas whispered, pointing at a narrow, dusty way spiraling upwards towards a small door. Trying to be as quiet as he could be, he led the group up. Mordin tried not to look at the buildings burning like torches below him. He felt much too exposed with no trees or tall buildings to hide them from sight. Thomas muttered a small prayer as he reached for the door handle. It clicked open with a sigh of relief.

Serana was the last out of the dusty corridor. With a dagger in hand, she silently stepped through the door and carefully shut it behind them. She had no idea how intelligent the demon-eyed marauders were, but she didn't want to take any risks, so she left every door exactly as they'd found it.

Leanna gasped, but quickly put a hand to her mouth, to muffle the sound. When Serana looked to see what had startled the noblewoman, she saw the hall they'd entered was strewn with bodies. The floor ran with rivulets of blood.

"We shouldn't be here," Leanna whispered.

"The more dead the better," Serana said coldly. "It means they've already passed through this section and, hopefully, they won't return any time soon. We can focus on finding the living, instead of avoiding the undead. Once we bolster our numbers, maybe we can find a way out of this mess."

There was safety in numbers. Although Serana usually liked to work alone, and trusted no one, she was willing to gamble on allying with the servants. Whatever was going on, it involved heavy magic, not the sort of thing commoners would know. It was probably safe to assume whoever was behind this atrocity didn't come from the servant class.

Thomas had ventured forward several feet, checking on some of the bodies to see if they were truly dead. Blood was still dripping out of one man's sliced throat, judging by the bath of red that he was lying in, his heart had just pumped out the last of the precious liquid.

"You there," Serana said to the old man. "How do you know these passages so well, sir?" Before they added anyone, she had to be sure she could trust the ones currently in her presence.

"I know them because I used to walk through them," he replied simply. Wondering why Serena choose to question him now, he straightened his back and pondered on what options they had. "I think we should head down. We will have roofs collapsing on our heads if we don’t."

Although she wasn't entirely satisfied with his response, Serana nodded and followed along. She felt as if he'd somehow dodged the question and that made her uneasy. But what really bugged her was that she couldn't seem to remember where she'd seen this man. She didn't often forget a face. Even now, with the faces of the dead clouding her memory, Serana felt she shouldknow this man.

In a flash of remembrance, it came to her. A satisfied smile curled the corners of her lips and she spoke with honeyed words.

"Used to walk them, did you?" she said pleasantly. "I didn't realize Malefius's understudy roamed the servants' halls. It seems a little… beneath you. No offense to the servants, of course."

Thomas scanned Serena with his eyes. "Flattering as ever, Serena," he smiled back. Mordin glanced at William, "grown-ups..." he sighed dismissively. They were in the middle of a massacre, even with his fever infested mind, Mordin could think of better things to do than smother each other with sugary words. Thomas noticed Mordin's discomfort and changed topic. "There is a hiding spot in the cellar, it’s where I store my devices."

Mordin wondered how Thomas thought the five of them were going to fit into his storage cabinet. You could hide two children in it at best. Then it dawned on him. "No," he protested almost inaudibly. Thomas gave him wink in return, then raised his hand to Mordin preemptively. "Let's just get there first, okay?" he whispered back.

As they moved through the halls of the besieged keep, Serana memorized every twist and turn. A left here, a right there. Go straight. Make a left at the dead cook. Turn right at the eviscerated mother clutching her nearly-decapitated child. Here, Leanna stopped and doubled over, dry-heaving. She might have vomited if there were anything left in her. It took a few seconds for Serana to convince her to continue onward. At last, they arrived at a door, where Thomas brought them to a halt.

"Is this the place?" Leanna said her voice cracking and laced with panic. "Hurry up and open it. I can't take any more of this. We need tohide." Her eyes darted to and fro, like a woman possessed.

"Keep your voice down," Serana said at a cool whisper, but the noblewoman was clearly nearing her breaking point. It was a miracle she'd made it this far without freaking out.

Mordin twitched as a thought, seemingly manifesting itself out of thin air, penetrated his mind. Kill her. He wondered why. The unhuman voice that had slithered into his mind answered his question, she stands in our way. Our? He decided his fever was making him hallucinate things and shook his head. The fog over his mind cleared, but he could still sense a slight throb in the back of his head.

Thomas teared his gaze from Mordin and studied the noblewoman. "These are the cellars, I have a cabinet at the end of the corridor. Mordin, you know where to go."

"I don't want t-" Mordin began, his voice strong at first but soon collapsing into a sniff. "I don't want to leave you," he scarcely whispered. Thomas hugged Mordin intensely. The boy’s eyes had shifted into a dreamy gaze by the time he let go.

"You know what to do," Serana said to William, without the theatrics. He stared at her, as if expecting more. A hug? A kind word? A kiss on the cheek? No, she just pointed to the cellar and gave him a stern look. "Go. Get in."

William's shoulders sank and he began to move toward the cellar, but Leanna's voice cut through like a knife. "Where are the devices you promised?" she said, glaring at the old man. "You work with Malefius, right? Don't you havemagic or something!? You're supposed to be prepared for times like these!"

"Keep your voicedown," Serana warned, her patience wearing thin.

She’s a burden. Mordin couldn’t string together a coherent thought, but his hand moved almost automatically towards the dagger strapped to his belt.

"Don't you tell me to shut up," the noblewoman screeched. "He's probably in on it. Malefius... ha! That old man and his sorcery." She suddenly darted into the cellar and tried to pull the door shut, but Serana caught it with one hand. In the other, she held the dagger.

See?

"Get out," Serana said, her tone threatening.

"No! Move, whore, so I can shut the door!" Leanna said, still struggling to seal herself in. "Find your own cellar, dammit. I'll scream. I swear I will."

Mordin couldn’t stand the coarse screeching of the woman. Every sound she made seemed to pierce through his ear like a needle. He hardly noticed his hand gripping onto the hilt of his dagger.

Kill her, Mordin thought, though he couldn't help but feel estranged from his own mind. As swifly as the feeling had entered his thoughts, it evaporated.

“Listen to reason, woman,” Thomas said sternly. His eyes flicked over to Mordin who was slowly approaching the door. “There is on-“

There was no pointing in saying anymore. Blood began to pour from Leanna's stomach. Mordin had driven his dagger up to the hilt in her flesh.

Thomas blinked in astonishment. His young apprentice stumbled backward, jerking the reddened steel loose as he did. Perplexed, he dropped the dagger, and it took him several seconds to take in what he'd just done.

Serana took a half step back as the woman staggered forward, out of the cellar. Leanna's hand reached out for anything she could hold on to, but there was no one there. She ultimately collapsed in the hall, clutching her bleeding abdomen. It was an oddly familiar scene. Twice in one night, someone had buried a blade in her.

"H-help… me…" she gurgled, looking first to Serana. But she found no sympathy there. Her gaze shifted to William. "Th-the… potions…" the woman said, though he voice was failing.

All Mordin could do was gawk at her as she faded away.

Something in the William’s eyes lit up as he overcame the shock and reached for the satchel slung over Serana's shoulder -- the satchel filled with potions. But Serana swatted his hand away. He opened his mouth to protest, probably wondering why she was juststanding there, letting this woman die. But a sharp glance from Serana made the words die on his lips.

In under a minute, Leanna took her last breath and spoke no more. "Get in the cellar," Serana said coldly and shoved William toward the open door. He gave her a look she'd never seen in his eyes before: fear. But the way he looked at the other boy was far worse.

Mordin replied to William’s gaze with much of the same fear and astonishment in his eyes. He looked down at his own trembling hands, as if to make sure he wasn’t having a nightmare.

"I- I can't do it," William said, his voice trembling. "That boy... He… he just killed Miss Maxwell. W-what if he kills me next?" But even a he said this, he was already easing into the cellar. The fear of disobeying them overrode the fear of being shut inside with a killer.

"He just saved your life, dear," Serana said with a disturbing smile, once he was inside.

Mordin could feel Thomas's hand squeeze his shoulder, almost bolting onto it. His mentor forced Mordin to turn around, and lowered himself to his height. "That was wrong," he said coldly. "Get inside and stay inside until at least a day has passed. Once the coast is clear you take the rucksack with you and you and William head to the nearest keep. Do you understand?"

Mordin nodded quietly, even though he’d barely heard what Thomas had been saying to him.

His eye fell on William, "you should go with Mordin. Here," he unsheathed his dagger and pressed it in the boy's hands. "If they come for you," he looked at both Mordin and William, "don't hesitate to stab."

When the boy didn't take the dagger, Serana knelt and picked it up. She wiped it off on the hem of Leanna's dress before offering it to William. The boy didn't accept it at first, but she took his hand and wrapped his fingers around the hilt. "This is a tool," she told him, while still kneeling, peering into his eyes. "Nothing more. It only becomes a weapon if you let it. Take it. You need all the tools you can carry."

He reluctantly accepted the weapon, but promptly stuck it in his belt loop, as if he wanted to have it, but didn't want to touch it.

Thomas was about to shove the perplexed Mordin into the cellar when he noticed a streak of blood on the floor, leading deeper into it. He stood upright, poked Serena lightly and pointed to the blood. "We're not alone," he concluded. Whoever was in there, had been dragged inside and was quite possibly still alive. It seemed they weren’t abandoning the children just yet.

"Well, let's find out who else is down here," Serena said. "From the looks of it, they're injured." The last thing she wanted was more 'damaged goods' bogging her down. They'd just managed to get rid of one liability and she had no intention of picking up another. But more people meant the possibility of more information.

"Let's go. Whoever --or whatever-- it is may give us a way out of this death trap," she reasoned.

 

The Arrow smacked right into the eye of the beast man, it plunged into his eye socket of his blood red eye with a sickening squelch hit his brain with enough force to cause him to fall backwards, he pulled out the arrow and looked up at Tyson with his one remaining eye before slumping down dead on the floor. The woman and child took the attack to run around the guards as they looked upon their dead ally, only realizing too late that they had escaped when the woman closed the door behind her.
Tyson jumped of his balcony two flights high to the bottom of the cloister, the guards weren't very clever as it seemed to take them a few seconds to fit two and two together that he shot the arrow, they raised their sword in anger of the attack and from letting their prisoners go, they slashed down in heavy lumber some swoops but Tyson simply dodged sideways and backwards, they were quick but he was quicker, he had walked up to the door on the edge of the cloister that a few minutes ago the woman and child had escaped from, a single scream of anger and his pathetic attempt at a kill from the men caused them to rip a hole in the door big enough for Tyson to dive through, they screamed in anger and started to charge at the door in attempt to rip the door down, smoke started to fill the cloister behind them but they ignored it, almost as if it wasn't there.

***

Raven heard the heavy steps long before she could see the creature they belonged to. As soon as soon as she saw him she knew he had once been a guard. She could swear she had seen this man around the palace many times, but he had never looked anything like he looked now; the guard walked with a limp, he had several deep wounds that did not seem to bother him at all and his eyes were deep red. As soon as Raven realized this man was not on their side she also realized something else; he might be deadly in close combat, but he didn’t appear to be as aware of his surroundings as a regular human being was. The creature passed Raven without even looking in her direction and after another two minutes he was gone entirely.

Raven did not have a long time to catch her breath; the sound of shouts and a fight not far from where she was drew her attention. “Well, that’s bad…” Raven said out loud.

***

Tyson ran past rooms full of smoke and fire, all was alight and blood was sloshed across the floor, walls and somehow the ceiling.
He coughed and blinked, as his eyes streamed with tears as the smoke gripped him, he was lucky to run past the burning passage into a smaller and aired out passage way with more intersections, that's when he saw her, 16 or 17 years old, looking away from him not quit aware he was there, he looked at her slightly confused.
"Why are you not running?" he asked out loud by accident and place his hand over his mouth.

Raven moved her hand toward her knife as she turned around, ready to attack the person behind her. To her surprise the person behind her was a young man. For a moment she feared he might be one of them, but then she realized his eyes didn't have the deep red color of the thing that had walked right past her earlier that night.
"Who are you?" Raven asked. "And on whose side do you fight? Wait, I don't care; I can tell you're not one of them and I'm sure you want to survive this just as bad as I do."
Raven smiled at the man in front of her -she had seen him around before, his name was Tyson or something like that- glad to know she was not the only survivor. "I know a way out of here; don't tell anyone I've told you about it though, because I'm not supposed to know about it."

Tyson removed his hand and smiled at her, "Well an exit would be pretty good right now" he stated and laughed, slightly forced as he looked at her, suddenly he raised his bow and pulled out an arrow from his quiver and drew it back, his smile gone but filled with determination.

The sudden change in Tyson’s behavior confused Raven rather than that it scared her, she had simply seen too much that day to be scared anymore. She was about to ask him what he thought he was doing when he answered the question she hadn’t asked yet.

"I suggest you duck" he said as he smirked "I'm not aiming for you."

Raven ducked just in time to keep the arrow from hitting her.

Instead the arrow embedded itself inside a guards chest, The guard yanked out the arrow and he looked at his wound with large pleading blood red eyes as he struggled to breath, he fell onto his knees and held at his chest trying to keep blood in, but it flooded his lungs, drowning in his own blood he fell to the floor quite dead.
"I believe saving a beautiful girl from an Axe wielding maniac deserves a kiss for heroism?" Tyson asked as held out a hand to introduce himself.

Raven got up, ignoring Tyson’s hand, and was about to answer him when she noticed a movement and glowing red eyes behind Tyson. She drew her knife almost without thinking about it and threw it right past Tyson’s head. The knife hit the guard’s neck; Raven knew it had once again been luck rather than skill. She looked at the guard as he fell to his knees and finally slumped on the ground.

“We’re even now,” Raven said. “So I don’t owe you anything. And besides; I’d rather kiss my cat.”

 

Annette

She didn't know when she started hearing the voices, but the moment she'd turned a corner and heard the squelch of steel burying itself deep into human flesh, along with a gasp, her eyes snapped up.

Several people huddled about the cellar door, and Annette's eyes widened in horror when she watched a woman slump to the ground, blood pouring from a wound in her stomach. Bile threatened, and she clapped her hand over her mouth, laying a shaking hand on the wall to keep herself from dropping to the ground in a faint right then and there.

No -they've gone mad too. Why is everyone killing each other? she thought frantically, edging back along the wall, away from the group. Jinx, scenting blood, stood up on her shoulder and hissed for all her tiny little body was worth.

Annette didn't feel any pain coming from her shoulder where the kitten's claws bit into skin; she'd frozen in terror on the spot when she realized that the sound had alerted them to her presence.

 

Thomas, Mordin.

Thomas yanked his head around, alerted by a low hiss. There, at the foot of the winding stairs that had led them into the cellars, stood a young girl. Her hand covering her mouth, her eyes wide with shock. In spite of all the death around him, Thomas couldn't help but be amused to see the girl cling to a kitten. "You asked for numbers, Serana?" he said, casting a sly smile at the shopkeeper. "How about a young heroine and her fierce, lion?" Mordin distanced himself from the new girl and the rest of the group by a few feet, as if he feared he would kill someone else if he didn't. Having stepped outside the small circle of light that the only torch on the wall provided, Mordin let his feelings flow freely. His lower lip trembled and two silent tears crawled like silvery snails over his cheeks before he wiped them away with his sleeve. How could he have killed someone?

 

The blood red moon barely lit her way, but Raven knew the surroundings well; in the past 5 years on the castle she had often gone out at night to explore the place. In those 5 years she had learnt about secret passages. While some of those passages merely led to just outside the castle, others would lead far into the southern part of the town. Raven knew she had seen a tree growing against the city wall not long ago, but in the night that had not yet come to an end the wood could have turned to ashes.

Although she had not lied when she had told Tyson she knew a way out, Raven had not told him the whole truth either. What if we're trapped in here? Or worse; what if things are the same out there?

Raven felt like a part of this dark night, filled with terror and bloodshed had found its way into her soul. The darkness seemed to have settled deep within her, taking away the last spark of hope that was left there.

While Raven walked, she didn't bother to interact with Tyson, who was walking behind her, knowing the sound of their voices would only draw attention anyway.

This night, Raven suddenly thought, why does it seem so familiar? She was sure she knew the answer to that question, but she could not remember it.

When she heard the voices that told her what she already knew, but had once forgotten Raven knew they were only in her head.

 

Well, here they are! Finally! Servants began milling into the cellar, yet seemed completely blind to the existence of a certain knight and lord. "You there! Servant boy crying like a little baby! Stop standing there and apply pressure to His Lordship's wound! Lady on the ground! Stop spilling red wine from your stomach! That's disgusting! Good lord are you all blind, deaf, and dumb? Why are you all standing there when there's so much to be done?! We need bandages and books and wine—" Key surveyed the cellar, "–actually we have plenty of wine— and medicine and cheese; we need loafers and gophers and wizards, oh my!"

 

You there! Servant boy crying like a little baby! Stop standing there and apply pressure to His Lordship's wound!

Mordin flinched at the harsh voice calling him out. He narrowed his eyes and gazed into the dark tunnel in front of him. His eyes still hadn't adapted to the dark, but he grew confident that he saw movement down the hall. Thomas noticed to. He took a torch from the wall and held it out, lighting the corridor behind the door. A knight, dressed in chainmail and with neatly cropped her was bending over the barely breathing Lord Jaros. Almost at the exact same time, Thomas and Mordin rushed forward, leaving everyone who didn't follow in the dark. Thomas wondered how this knight had expected them to see him if he was shrouded in darkness. Thomas resisted the urge to return the knight's name calling but, understanding the urgency of the situation, refrained from doing so.

"I wasn't crying," Mordin hissed as he knelt beside Lord Jaros and pressed his hands on a gaping wound. The warm, red liquid glued itself to his fingers, and if he hadn't done a similar thing earlier in his life, he would've pulled his hands away in disgust. "What's going on here?" Thomas demanded. Seeing this knight near the dying Lord Jaros, was enough cause for him to be wary.

 

Annette

"Good lord are you all blind, deaf, and dumb? Why are you all standing there when there's so much to be done?! We need bandages and books and wine—" Key surveyed the cellar, "–actually we have plenty of wine— and medicine and cheese; we need loafers and gophers and wizards, oh my!"

Annette nearly went to her knees when she recognized Knight Key's voice. As a servant, she doubted he would know her, but the strange man was actually quite well-known amongst the girls in the servant's quarters. Though not for the reasons that most men would be known by.

Well, maybe these people hadn't gone mad. Even as she watched the old man and the young boy ran over towards-

Lord Jaros! Heaven help us he's injured! Annette rushed forward and was kneeling beside the boy before she'd even had time to think. Good; he'd placed his hands over the wound to stem the bleeding. Grasping the hem of her dress with two shaking hands, Annette ripped a strip of fabric away and pressed it alongside the boy's hand. She'd never tended to someone this injured -but that hadn't prevented her from learning little tricks to help in these situations.

Bleeding badly -barely breathing. Can't afford to lose much more blood-

Then the torch caught her attention and she looked the old man up and down. She really wasn't sure what to make of him- but that torch could mean the life or death of Lord Jaros.

"Unless anyone here can heal him on the spot, I need that torch to cauterize the wound!" she stated, but was unable to hide the nervous quaver in her voice. Little voices inside her head started chanting: Inexperienced, not a healer, not a Mage. Just a lowly servant. . . Annette shook them off, reminding herself firmly that since she had read about situations where this was required and knew what she had to do, she had to do this regardless.

But you could be dead within two seconds if these people are just like the knights. That darker voice had her shivering instantly, and she swallowed, but when her eyes flitted about no one appeared to have any glowing red eyes- at least from what she could tell. What if one could hide it?

Bad thoughts! Very bad thoughts! she repeated, shoving them out of her mind. Servant. Just a servant. No one would care if she died.

But i'd much rather be taken captive. she wanted to squeak.

 

"Unless anyone here can heal him on the spot, I need that torch to cauterize the wound!"

Mordin hadn't moved an inch since the girl had come to Lord Robert's aid. From what little understanding he had of medicine, he knew she was right. He wondered however, how Lord Jaros would act towards those that scorched his skin. Then again, there wasn't much life left in the man anyway. Mordin looked up to Thomas, "dad?"

Thomas seemed to shrink an inch at being called dad, but he quickly covered it up by lowering himself towards Mordin's height. He rested one hand on Mordin's, "it's alright, you can take it off". Mordin did as he was asked. For a second blood streamed from Robert's wound again, but then Thomas pressed the torch against it. Mordin could tell by the involuntary movements of Lord Jaros that the man was feeling the heat. Yet the kept going, scorching the wound. When Thomas pulled the torch away, it flickered a few last times. Just enough for the girl to see where she'd have to bandage Lord Jaros. Then the flame died off, and they were shrouded in complete darkness. Mordin shuffled uneasily on his feet and accidentally bumped his shoulder into the girl. Or at least he thought it was the girl, judging by what little he could see. "Sorry," he mumbled.

 

Serana kept her distance, first from the girl, then from the knight. The girl and kitten was slightly odd, but not very threatening or suspicious. The knight on the other hand… there were a lot of things wrong with this scene.

He was lurking in the dark, virtually unseen. He spoke as if he'd lost his marbles and the pouch that held them. Serana had plenty of misgivings about approaching an armed man in a darkened room, especially one whose cheese had slid so impossibly far off its cracker. So she hung back and let Thomas and the girl take charge. That way, if the man turned out to be a homicidal maniac, he'd have a few bodies to slice through before he reached Serana.

However, this plan changed entirely when she realized the 'His Lordship' the knight was referring to wasn't just any lord. It was Lord Jaros. The girl was at his side quickly, talking about cauterizing the wound.

What!? Serana thought, horrified. The wound was too deep for that and she doubted this girl knew how to properly cauterize anything. There was thin line between cauterizing a wound and making human barbecue. Serana quickly knelt at Lord Jaros's side, but was too late. They'd already put the flame to his flesh and she didn't dare intervene, lest the man be horribly burned.

"Perfect, now we have embers in the wound, among other things," Serana scolded sharply. She sighed with annoyance. "Such barbarism. Do you even know how to cauterize a wound, child? If you want to play amateur surgeon, there are plenty of willing cadavers around. Allow me, dear."

Serana opened her satchel and drew out a glass vial of what appeared to be water. Ordinary water. She uncorked it, rudely snatched the blood-soaked cloth from their hands and wrung it out, letting a few drops fall into the 'water.' Serana returned the cloth to the girl, corked the vial, and shook it until the blood and water mingled. It turned dark red, far darker than blood in water should be. There was clearly something unnatural taking place in the bottle.

Once the contents were fully mixed, she uncorked it again and carefully poured the healing potion onto Lord Jaros's scorched wound.

 

"What's going on here?"

"Ah umm- it all happened so fast, I'm not, erm, I don't really know what happened." Key shifted uncomfortably. "Here, I'll start from the start.

So there I am at my desk, reading some letters, when Margaret comes in– you know Margaret: nasty, intrusive, obnoxious– and right off the bat she's screaming away about how I'm never there when she needs me and how I'm always busy writing letters to 'god knows who' and this is, like, kind of the norm except this time she's even louder and more annoying than ever, so I turn around and I tell her that it's her own problem and that it's not like we're like dating or anything, but then she's like 'oh is this how it is? this must be how you treated the others too!' and I'm like 'what others are you even talking about' and then she's like 'oh don't play stupid, i know all about the others' and at this point I'm like, you know, super confused because I have no idea who she's talking about and then she goes on and says 'i read one of the letters you wrote and all you can talk about is how beautiful and rich she is but how she's not ready for taking yet and it's absolutely disgusting' and at this point I'm getting really annoyed since this means she was reading my letters which is, like, a violation of my privacy and there she is just standing in front of me and, like, screaming away so I kind of like tune her out and just imagine some other things– bad things, I must confess– and at one point I just picture stabbing her with a sword and like, all of a sudden, a sword literally just like came out of her chest like straight through her heart and like I had no idea I could even do that because like I never even thought about magic or being magical or like anything but there was the proof like clear as day and like before I could do like anything, these two guards like appeared behind her and like tried to arrest me or something so I like hit one of them with my shield and all ninja-like dodged them and came running down here and I was going to like hide here but then I thought I was alone so when I saw like this guy on the floor I got scared to hell so I must have like used the same magic on him or something 'cuz now he's like bleeding and then I realized that it was like Lord Jaros so I kind of panicked again and called for help and like now here you are but like I'm not a murderer I swear I just like just discovered my powers and like can't control them yet so like give me a chance please like I swear I didn't mean to do anything bad I'm like really sorry so yeah but like now you guys are here so we can save him and then I can like explain to him and we can like fix everything right?"

 

Falcor

The storage room looked moodier than ever. The fuel for the lights had burned. Parson's blood on the floor had turned stale. Both men looked weary.

"We must move!" said Falcor.

"Why? We are safe. We are comfortable. We have food."

"For god's sake, Parson, my wife could still be alive. We need to rescue her!"

"Could. Could still be alive. If she is, we'd die within the hour."

Falcor ripped a table from the corner of the room. He unsheathed his trusty blade and stabbed it in the oak.

"Right, we are here," he marks a square in the surface, "we need to get there," marking an X.

Next, an elaborate series of lines, curves and shapes. Falcor described as he drew. Parson looked seriously puzzled. Most of the table ended up on the floor, in the form of shavings. Food was raided from the barrels, enough for at least five people. They moved the barriers out of the doorway and where ready to get out.

"Wait, let me go first." Falcor said whilst loading his bow. Then they were ready.

 

Annette

"Perfect, now we have embers in the wound, among other things," Serana scolded sharply. She sighed with annoyance. "Such barbarism. Do you even know how to cauterize a wound, child? If you want to play amateur surgeon, there are plenty of willing cadavers around. Allow me, dear."

Annette bit her bottom lip to keep from snapping at the elder woman. As a servant, she had no right to snap at anyone -not even other servants.

Still, was i to expect a potions master or wizard to drop out of the sky and save him? No. Annette struggled to keep her mouth shut, but eventually managed to force herself a few paces away.

Jinx spat in the woman's direction, her black, orange and white fur sticking up all over her tiny body. Annette couldn't help the slight curl of her lip, but quickly hid it. No one knew why Jinx was named so, and many still had to find out. Add that to the fact that Jinx was often mistaken for the unlucky black cat, as one half of her body was completely black, it was an added bonus to keep the suspicious ones who would only irritate her at bay.

Soothed by those thoughts, Annette leaned against the wall and hid in shadow, eyes lowered in the perfect image of an effectively cowed servant.

 

Marcus, James, Malefius

Before Marcus could get an answer, he heard another door opening, this time the one in the front of the room. He jumped up, grabbed the younger man, and started to drag him into whatever passageway behind the cabinet he had come from; but when he looked back, he saw that the man who had entered was so old and decrepit that there was no threat even if he was one of the monsters, although it sounded like the true monsters were nonetheless close behind him.

When this new survivor closed the door behind him - neither quickly nor quietly, but certainly more quickly than Marcus would've thought possible from a man who appeared so broken - he walked around the bodies to the end of the table and started trying to push it towards the door. I should've thought of that, Marcus chastised himself before realizing that this other man would probably have died if the door had been barricaded.

Marcus felt himself slip in the sea of blood on the floor. The man from the cabinet caught him, but the noise drew the attention of the old man by the table, who turned to face them so quickly that he probably feared Marcus and his new companion themselves to be even more monsters.

“What tomfoolery is this?” Malefius hissed at the pair. “Help me with this table before I knock your heads together.” He stopped for a moment, catching a look at Marcus’ face through the darkness. “Wait a minute… your Quintus’ boy aren’t you? Yes, yes the apprentice…” He went back to pushing, the heavy set table legs squirming across the floor. “Well… pleasantries later. Now help me with this table!”

On hearing Malefius' shout, James darted forwards to help him. He had a soft spot for the weak and elderly, and would always try to give help or money when it was needed. Marcus soon joined them, and together they pushed the table against the door.

"There," James panted, "that should hold it." As soon as the table was in position, Malefius turned and looked at the walls of the small room they were in.

"What are you doing?" James asked in complete bewilderment.

"Can't you see?" snapped Malefius, "I'm trying to find the bells to warn the castle. My eyes aren't what they used to be, though..." he trailed off, grumbling to himself.

"That . . . that won't work," said James, trying not to let his voice shake too much, "there's no-one left. They're . . . they're all . . . dead." he finished in a whisper.
Malefius looked at the floor, silently grieving for the friends he'd lost. Suddenly, Marcus broke the silence.

"What about the cellars?"

"What about them?" asked James, wondering why his companion was bringing this up.

"Couldn't there be survivors there?"

Malefius looked up, hope writ large on his wrinkled features. Just as he was about to speak, there came a great crashing from outside the door, and the next moment the door started to shake as a hobnailed boot struck it again and again.

"The soldiers!" James cried, struck with fear. "Quick! We need to get to the cellars!" He scrambled to the cupboard and feverishly started fumbling with the concealed catch for the door. Malefius and Marcus were soon by his side, the movements of Malefius' already shaky joints exacerbated by his growing terror. "Quickly, young one!" he shouted at James.

The back of the cabinet crept slowly open, but just as the three were about to step through, a booted foot crashed through the door. A single red eye peered through a small crack in the woodwork and, in a moment of blind panic, James raced towards the door, vaulted on to the table and drove his dagger, unsheathed from his belt, through the crack. There was a howl of pain, a spurt of blood and the foot was quickly withdrawn. James joined his friends in the passageway, and the cabinet back slid closed behind them.
"Lead on," said Malefius, his voice echoing hollowly in the small space, "take us to the cellars."

 

For the past while Raven had been hoping for a distraction; something -anything- to take her mind off of the possebility of what was awaiting them outside the castle and its village, but the distraction never came.

"Are you sure you know the way?" Tyson asked hesitantly not trying to irritate this beautiful girl leading him to safety.
"Because you could just say we are lost and I would be cool about it you know?" he asked looking over his shoulder and then back at her.

"I know the way, but I have to admit something else; I know a way out, what I don't know is whether it survived the fires tonight. I know I should have told you this before, but I... I just couldn't...We can't risk going there. I think we should go to the cellars; they are easy to defend and if anyone survived we will probably find them there."

 

James, Marcus and Malefius

Through the cobbled path they went, the pale light of Malefius’ staff illuminating the tunnel. James and Marcus led the way with the old man hobbling behind, going left and then turning right, cutting along the moss covered floor, down a flight of stone and across the sewer bridge. The stench from below was enough to kill a rat, and Malefius feigned a gag or two as the light of the staff reflected off the dirty canals.

“My senses may not be what they used to, but that is foul.” He said, holding the robe sleeve to his mouth. The lads were equally queasy, quickening their pace along the cobblestone and rising the stairs to another tunnel. And, as the light glided its way across the wetted stone they came to a sudden stop, a board of hardwood blocking their path.

“This should be it.” James said, slowly pushing against the wood with his shoulder. The board shuddered with a heavy creak.

In the cellar dozens of oversized kegs lined the wall, each as tall as a boulder and no doubt as heavy, all of them filled with tasty brews. All of them, save for one. This particular one held a sign that read Lord Epacse’s Special Brew, and all heads in the room turned as the front broke open with two young men and an elder inside.

“Check the eyes boys.” The old man whispered. Marcus quietly responded, “I can’t see any glow, but they are just… staring.”

James drew his rapier with uncertainty, holding the point out in front. “Who goes there?”

 

Lord Jaros's wound began to close, but Serana could see the potion wasn't working as well as it normally would. Her potions only enhanced the body's natural healing capabilities. If the body was dying… well, there wasn't much she could do.

Dammit, she murmured under her breath as she unfurled her shawl, folded it over many times, and used it to apply pressure to the wound. Her lush dark hair tumbled out of the hood, but there were far greater concerns than mere vanity. Although Serana wouldn't admit it, the man would likely be dead had the girl not cauterized the wound. The potion alone wouldn't have been enough. Even now, she wasn't sure if it was enough.

The man's chest rose and fell slowly beneath her hands. Every few seconds he would gasp, as if in pain, but his breathing was fairly regular. His lips moved, as if trying to speak. At first, Serana thought it was the rambling of a man whose mind had faded with the blood loss. But a closer inspection revealed something more…

Serana couldn't read lips, but she was able to make out a few words of the man's whispered ramblings. He kept repeating the names of the Three Rings and something about "bane." It took her a few moments to realize he wasn't talking about the word "bane," but Master Bane, one of Lord Jaros's armsmen.

Is he the one responsible? Is he the traitor? Serana thought, as her mind raced to make sense of this absurd night and these pointless deaths.

Her attention was snatched away when one of the wine casks creaked ominously. There was either a very large rat trying to make its way into the cellar, or they'd been found by the red-eyed devils. Either way, Serana had her dagger in hand almost instantly. The cask splintered and three shadowy figures poured out, one armed with a staff and another with a rapier.

“Who goes there?” the latter demanded to know.

"You're the one doing the 'going.' We should ask you," Serana said sharply, keeping one hand pressed on Robert Jaros's wound, while she remained kneeling at his side.

 

James drew his rapier with uncertainty, holding the point out in front. “Who goes there?”
Alerted by the light that flooded into the cellar, Thomas spun around. Three men stepped into the cellar, one of whom wielded a staff, illuminating its surroundings with an eerie glow. He resisted the urge to let magic crackle through his fingertips and instead hopped over the dying Robert, pushed Mordin and William back and took the ever receding space between them and the strangers. "I could ask you the same," he returned, cross-armed. Then his shoulders dropped a bit in relaxation, "we're but servants. We found Lord Robert here," he gestured loosely at the heaving lump of flesh on the floor. Lord or not, Thomas had no trouble letting the man die if it meant saving his own skin. Unfortunately, it didn't. He returned his gaze to the armed strangers in front of him, "I am Thomas, I assist the court physcian in his duties, you are...?"

“Lord Jaros!?” Malefius gasped. As quickly as his bony body could carry him, he swept across the cellar towards the dying man. The light peered down towards the Lord’s eyes, the twinkle inside almost extinguished. “Damn it Thomas, why haven’t you done anything for the poor man? Assisting court physician…” His grumble trailed off and he blundered past the girl and the alchemist crowding Jaros. “What have you administered?”

“I cauterized the wound.” The girl said.

Malefius stared grimly at the wound, his wrinkles hardened like steel. “It looks too far gone. Thomas do you have any herbal reagents? Some garmin leaf would help to numb the pain and wake him a little.”

"I am afraid I was too busy surviving," Thomas replied as he trailed after Malefius. Disdain beamed from his eyes, watching the old man shuffle to the dying Lord Jaros. When he made no move to get the herbs, Mordin raised himself, took five steps to where Thomas had put their rucksack down and began rummaging through it.

"Here," he said, pulling out a red-and-yellow speckled sharp-edged leaf from one of the bag's many pockets. He gave Thomas a questioning look as he returned to Robert's side. Remembering what Thomas had told him about Malefius, there was a slight hesitation in his hand, and he let his hand hover indecisively over Robert's frame.

“Well then boy, give it here.” The old man said. The boy continued to gaze at him, with a look of caution in his eyes. Malefius had seen the lad in the keep on occasion, carrying equipment and running errands with youthful eagerness and conviction. Yet when help was needed the most there was an unsteadiness in his heart, and he stayed his hand.

Footsteps. The spiralling stairwell. Not two by two. Nor four, or six or eight or ten. But more. The booted drums of war approached, beating faster as they ran around the circular gauntlet, tearing away at the stone steps. The echo bounced off the cellar walls, louder and louder, thundering through the airy space, striking fear into the group.

“Boy! Give me the leaf!” Malefius cried, desperately trying to snatch it away.

Mordin looked at Thomas for approval but found his mentor's back instead. Shaken into action by the fast approaching soldiers, he did as he was asked and handed Malefius the leaf, then grabbed his dagger and went after Thomas. He pushed the boy back with one hand and ignited a dark red fire in his other. The flame flickered, then stabilized, with a soft whoosh as it sucked up some air. Mordin gawked at it in amazement. "Stay back son, you are already burning up," Thomas warned. "Now go!"

Realizing he was unable to sway Thomas, Mordin started towards William, grabbed him by his arm and began to drag him to the other end of the cellar. "Don't worry, I have a knive," he said, then realized that was likely to unsettle the other boy. He dismissed the thought. Thomas's cabinet was an excellent hiding place, Mordin just hoped the other boy would remain quiet.

 

As Marcus stepped out of the shadowy passage to survey this new group of survivors, his attention was diverted by the roar of metal coming from another stairwell. He looked around, and it didn’t look like even the best armed and armoured in the room would be able to handle the sheer number of monsters he heard descending upon them. He didn’t know how well the masonry around him was supposed to withstand sudden changes in load, so even though his Earth spells were the ones he was best with, he couldn’t risk demolishing the stairwell when there was a chance that he could bring entire walls and the above floor down upon them. He looked at the older wizard who had joined him, but - Malefius, was that what he had said his name was? - seemed to busy with the dying man to be able to help defend the doorway right now, or he would already be doing so.

He looked at the barrels of rum and wine around him, but didn’t think that it would be possible to get enough into the stairwell in time to form an effective barricade before the monsters simply pushed them back down. Even if he emptied all of the barrels and formed the contents into a wall of water going up the staircase, he would just destroy the walls by turning it into a much larger wall of ice, and with just the limited amount of liquid available to make a pseudo-moat, surely the monsters would be able to hold their breath long enough to –

Breath. Marcus could just force all of the air in the staircase to go higher, and the monsters would suffocate. Sure, simultaneously holding the air in the room with the other survivors so that they themselves didn’t suffocate while the stairwell was emptied would be challenging, but this wasn’t different than what he had done before, only bigger. Much, much, much bigger…

He ran to the doorway, dropped to his hands and knees, and cast “Separtum aris!” He felt the air flee before him as though in fear of the monsters within, and the roar of the metal was silenced. He heard the people behind him ask each other whether the monsters were dead, and they started cheering and asking Marcus what had done to kill them.

Perhaps Marcus should be celebrating with them. Perhaps he had saved their lives as they claimed. Perhaps the silence was not simply that there was no air to carry the sound of the monsters impossibly surviving, perhaps it as much because they had truly stopped moving. Surely he did not need to feel the masonry for sound where there was none in the air, and surely he was being absurd when he cast “Sentior tremo” to attune his senses to the stone.

But the monsters were still running. Their lungs should’ve been crushed under the weight of their own muscles, their blood canals should’ve been ripped at the seams by the weight of their own humors, but the screaming of the stairs under their feet told Marcus that They. Were. Still. Running.

He jerked back in shock. He felt his spell falter in his distraction, and he forced himself to hold the air in the cellar steady while the air above the stairs forced it’s way back down. He hoped that the wind would at least force the impossible monsters to stumble, but when the air in the stairs rejoined the air in the cellar, the ringing of their armor told him that - even now - they had not stopped.

Marcus did not notice how any of the others had responded to the betrayal of - even magical - reason and logic that was the abomination of reality descending upon them. As he began to pass out from fear and exertion, the last words he heard himself think were Impossible, impossible, impossible…

 

Annette

"Oh God oh God oh God oh God-" Annette clapped a hand over her mouth before she hyperventilated, backing up into a corner of the room and crouching in a shadow. What to do what to do!? They were cornered!

If one comes up behind me i could snap my head back and break their nose, possibly sending the bone up into their brain- no, they're wearing helmets and there is no way they would come up that close anyways before i'd be dead at their feet. But maybe if their armor has gaps that expose vulnerable points. Ankle, hamstring, eye, armpit- a stab or a deep cut could kill. But in the end it was Jinx who kept her head on and hissed at Annette, digging her tiny claws into the girl's shoulder before leaping for the floor. The girl's eyes widened in alarm, and she started after the kitten, only to be stopped short when a whoosh of air nearly knocked her off her feet. One of the men had chanted some strange spell, but mere moments after silence pervaded the room his face paled. Whatever he had done had clearly not worked.

Jinx wriggled under one of the platforms that held up the large barrels, then glared out from under it with glowing amber eyes. Annette wishes she could hide so easily, but she was human, and had to be human until the moment she died.

But how to stop the soldiers? A chill ran down her spine and she looked towards the stairwell again. It was moderately defensible if they bottle-necked the oncoming soldiers- and was their only chance at surviving. She looked to the barrels then back again, no, too heavy to move with her skinny frame. And she didn't think anyone else here could either.

She stepped forward, about to ask someone something -she didn't remember what then- but Jinx decided at that moment to dart out just in front of her feet and nearly tripped her in the process.

"Jinx! Bad cat! I could have stepped on you!" Annette hissed, scooping up the kitten before any further harm could come to it. But then an idea occurred to her. Jinx had nearly tripped her. If they tripped the soldiers...

The image of sharp swords and heavy bodies filled her mind with bone-chilling clarity, but it was all she had.

"What if we set up a trip-wire?" she rasped, too scared to speak any louder and yet too scared to not let her idea be known.

 

Key's attention darted towards the stairs. His eyes calmed and his breathing slowed as he assessed the situation; this was no time for playing. He took cautious steps towards the stairwell, readying his shield and drawing his sword. "Good people of this cellar. Tonight we come to a time where we find ourselves in great peril, yet in even greater responsibility. Tonight, we are besieged by enemies unknown and stand as the last barrier between order and chaos. Yet tonight, we shall have no fear, for tonight, we stand for Highguard! Fainting person! Stop fainting, we need every man we can get. Kid with the shiv! Stand somewhere near me and put the pointy end in anyone that gets past me! Person with the fire! Does that hurt your hand? Everybody else... do something. Throw potions or something," Key glanced towards Serana as he spoke "or whatever you can think of. Try to take out as many of them at range. As for me, I'll hold them at the bottom of the staaiirr-crap. That's Tom." At the sight of a particularly burly possessed knight, Key rapidly began a tactical repositioning towards a more rearguard-esque position "He kicks my hide every other day when we train; all yours! Best of luck!"

 

Serana backed away as Malefius took over the task of tending to Lord Jaros. The man's condition looked grim. If the Lord of Highguard was going to die, she'd rather it be on someone else's head. If, by some miracle, they all survived this night and took refuge in another town or another realm, there would be some very serious questions. Questions like 'who let this man die,' 'was it you,' and 'what would you like on your tombstone?'

But there was no time for thinking that far ahead. The crimson-eyed undead were already making their way down. If the sound of their boots was any indicator, they were coming en masse. Serana looked all about for William and found him being dragged away by Mordin. She quickly intervened.

"We stick together, as a group. I think the time for hiding has passed," she said to the two boys, urging them not to scurry off to the cabinet or wherever else they planned to go. William seemed pleased with that. Serana couldn't tell if that was because he didn't want to be alone with Mordin or because he didn't want to leave her; probably a little of both.

One of the newcomers tried to use a wind spell to stop or slow the guards descending the stairwell, but it had little effect and left him drained. Serana thought the man looked familiar. She quickly realized he'd come to her shop a few days ago. What was his name again? Miles? Marvin? Matthew? Maurice?

She nearly had it figured out when the cat-loving servant girl suggested setting up a trip wire. Serana wheeled around to face the girl and was about to give her an earful about how stupid that idea was. But William spoke up first.

"No rope, but there's some wood over here," the boy said, indicating a pile of long wooden beams leaning in a corner. "Gimme a hand with one of these," he said to Mordin. The undead guards weren't exactly geniuses; anything placed in their path stood a good chance of tripping them up, especially in the dark.

"I suppose it’s a start," Serana sighed and said to the servant girl. "But we need a more permanent solution. If you trip a few, it might bottleneck them for a moment, but they will get up again." She looked to Malefius and the dying man he was treating. "Lord Jaros must've come down here for a reason. This is his castle; he knows it better than anyone. Maybe there's a secret exit down here or a safehouse. There must be something we're overlooking."

 

"We stick together, as a group. I think the time for hiding has passed"

Mordin's eyes narrowed as he besieged Serana with a piercing gaze. She seemed all too eager to drag them back and Mordin couldn't decide if this was just another display of the woman's coldness, or one of care. William on the other hand was keen on leaving Mordin's side, terrified as he was by what the young druid had done. Once again, Mordin's eyes swept over to Thomas for approval. Should he heed the knight's words and stab another few people to death? He felt sickened by the thought and found himself gawking at Leanna's corpse. The cold that seemed to radiate from her body pinned him down, rendering him immovable. Disbelief crashed like a tidal wave through his mind. He'd not done killed her, he'd never kill anybody. Yet there she was, eyes rolled upwards, staring back at him, threatening to haunt him until the end of times.

Thomas ignored the girl's suggestion to set a trip-wire, it was far too late for that. The first red-eyed soldier came stamping down the stairs, then another, and another. They trickled down the winding stairs like drops dripping into a waterbutt. Roaring like a fierce animal one of them dashed forward and let his sword cleave the air. Brows furrowing in concentration, Thomas sent out the fire from his hand, the soldier's armor started to glow red-hot under the constant barrage of magic. Thomas only narrowly dodged the incoming strike. The soldier's steaming, burned body fell uselessly to the ground along with his blood-stained sword. The air rippled as Thomas blasted another soldier back. For all his power, he didn't see the strike from his left coming. A shield smacked into his face, knocking him over. Two red-eyes stared down on him, attempting to gut him with death's icy finger. Blood sprayed over Thomas's face as a dagger portruded from the soldier's back. The glowing red eyes lost flickered out of existance. Two blue ones revealed themselves from behind the collapsing body, vivid and burning with determination. But Thomas had no time to smile at his saviour.

"Mordin, look out!" he screamed, but it was too late. A cut ripped the skin on Mordin's upper arm, the soldier responsible raised his blade once again to deal the finishing blow. Mordin hissed in agony, blinding himself from the incoming danger by squeezing his eyes shut. With no time to scramble to his feet, Thomas resorted to magic once more. A thin, fiery whip snapped itself around the demon's throat and quenched the life out of him. Thomas had barely raised himself to his feet when Mordin collapsed to his knees, crying out in pain and clenching to his injured arm. Not once had Thomas thought himself capable of feeling sorry for his young assistant, and yet he could not rout the wave of pity that washed over him. Horror soon crushed his empathy however as he watched more and more soldiers pouring in. The situation grew more desperate by the second.

 

Lydia and Nikko -Heroics

Nikko peered around a corner. There were no guards in sight in either direction. He nodded to Lydia and the two of them hurried to the door that was Lydia's room. They went in as silently as they could and Nikko stood guard at the door while Lydia rummaged about, gathering her items. "What is here that is so important you're willing to risk your life for it?" Nikko whispered.

"Everything I own in the world is in this room," she said, digging through a drawer to find her linen satchel folded in the bottom. She pulled it out and quickly tossed another set of clothes in. Then she moved from the dresser to the small table next to her bed. Her bow and quiver were leaned against it, and she snatched them up. Then, she dropped to her knees and fumbled under the nightstand for a moment before coming back up with a small wooden box. She wrapped it in a piece of cloth and then shoved it into her satchel.

"I have everything I need..." she said after a moment.

"Not a moment to soon. I hear footsteps." Nikko and Lydia rushed towards the servant quarters. They peered around a corner only to see two red-eyed knights emerged from the servant quarters with bloodied blades. "To the cellar. It's the last safe place I know." Nikko whispered to Lydia. He looked at her, fear in his eyes. He wasn't sure even that place was safe.

Lydia strung her bow and held it at the ready, then nodded. She was determined to get out of this alive.

"Lead the way," she said finally. "I have your back."

Nikko smiled at Lydia. "You have the heart of a knight. Let's move." Nikko and Lydia rushed down the corridors, Nikko's armor slowing him down some...much to his chagrin but he knew he'd be grateful for it in a fight. They made it to the cellar only to hear the sounds of battle as the army of red-eyed soldier's began their attack on those in the cellar.
Is there no end to this nightmare?

He drew his sword and turned to Lydia. "As a knight of Highguard, I have to help. But I don't expect you to put yourself in harm's way. You should try and find someplace to hide. Perhaps on the roof."

Lydia stood there for a second as the young man drew his sword and prepared to go to his certain death. "Damn," she said finally and pulled her bow off her shoulders. "You didn't leave me behind, I would hate myself forever if I didn't return the favor." She nocked an arrow and tested the sting.

The young knight had charisma, she had to admit, and she was compelled to follow him. From the way he looked and sounded, she never expected him to be so bold.

"I have your back," she said.

Nikko spun his sword once before charging into the fray. Limbs fell and blood sprayed as he hacked with Hemera, his enchanted sword.

As Nikko advanced, Lydia drew her bow and was about to fire when she realized that her target, although bent on killing her, was a living person. Could she really kill someone? The soldier was coming towards her it's sword raised, and she just stood there, powerless...

Then her fingers released and the soldier fell, an arrow in his neck. She had done that, she gasped and cried out, but before she could break down completely, another one was going after Nikko. Without thinking, she drew another arrow and let it fly. It hit true in a gap in the guard's armor, and he fell, his face twisted.

That was two she had killed. Her, she had killed two people, but there was no time to think about that now. She was only doing what she had to to survive. She ran to stay behind Nikko, another arrow nocked on her bow, ready to fire.