Closed for FireyIce

[Kismets_Paramour]

Marcus Steward from the House Dorset, Ven Commander of the Royal Armed Forces
42 years old - 5’10 - Hair long enough to be bound by a leather cord, sooty black in color and streaked with silver. Hard worked tan skin. Light brown eyes.

At the start of the last Falling they were the first family to pledge themselves to the Alliance. They were the most trusted advisors and councilor to the King, Commanders of his armies and handpicked Stewart and Right Hand to the King in time of peace.

Since the last Falling the family is much smaller in size but just as connected to the Crown and King. As customary the first born Son of each generation gives up his family name to become a Steward, giving up family claim and nobility to uphold the Alliance and be the King’s Right Hand.

= = = = = = = = = =

The Elderly King Albert slumped in his chair situated at the head of the War Table, his face deeply wrinkled and cast with a pallor tinged with death. “Are you saying that we have lost the Mountain Keep?”

Marcus adjusted pieces on the table, holding a cold stone pyramid in his hand, his fingers brushing over the smooth glassy sides. “What I’m saying,” The stone clicked heavily on the tabletop and each and every name that stone represented echoed in his head and cut a razor’s edge into his soul. “Sire, is without the joined forces from the other Lords, we can’t push them back.”

If this had been the first meeting as such there would have been more questions, an outrage that the Lords would ignore a call from their King, but it wasn’t it. A King could only call upon the Kingdom in times of war and as it had been started, minor attacks from the Outerlands from the Godly Mountains were far from war. Yet in the months that passed the swarm from the Mountains escalated from troublesome to threatening and the minor station held by the King’s forces before overwhelming it in full.

The candles flickered low, one hissing out its defiant death as that corner of the table was swallowed by darkness. The pair had been pouring over the map for hours, long past the patience of the other advisors who had the sense about them to leave the two of them alone.

“I just can’t shake this feeling.” Grimaced Marcus eyes boring into the reports, maps and charts before him.

The King rose slowly from his chair, falling back deep coughs racking his body. “It is a Falling.” King Albert gasped between words, failing to gain an easy breath.

Marcus was silent, there were enough signs to make it true but when last it was presented before the Lords, it was dismissed and outright laughed at as a fancy of silly legends.

“The names written from old.” Rasped The King stumbling to his feet. “Beneath the Crown’s Seal you will ride out and forge anew The Alliance.” Strength straightened the King’s age bent spine and a fire burned in his eyes. “That still is within my power.” Snickered the old King, the shadow of the man he once was fading before Marcus. “Come, help an old man to his bed. In the morning I shall call the Lords.” King Albert’s voice was wispy and strained as he leaned heavily on his cane, shifting his weight to Marcus once he was near enough.

“As my King Commands.”

 

[Kismets_Paramour]

Viola Sung-Locke
24 years old. 5’6 in height. Pale golden skin, decorated with freckles dashed across her cheekbones, the bridge of her nose and her collarbone following the curved valley of her chest. Thick twilight black soft wavy hair impossibly frizzy with just the slightest bit of humidity in the air, often bound in a strict bun. Startling large almond shaped emerald green eyes, the color of the forest as it awakes in spring, surrounded by thick lashes. Sharp cheekbones squaring off with narrowed yet sweeping jawbone curved down to a softly pointed chin. Cute slightly upturned button nose. Pouty bottom lip, with a hard bow shaped top lined upper lip colored a dusky rose without the touch of makeup. A delicate squared elven face her Fathers used to say and perfectly flawless until she was seventeen. Now a thin whitish silver scar run from her left cheekbone angling down from her brow to almost her nostril. Breasts a handful in size peaked with excitable and sensitive nipples to a mid-section that used to be flat, rounder now with a desk job flared out to hips also larger due to her sedentary life. Legs long for some her height with small dancer’s feet.

= = = = = = = = = =

I shivered in my sleep and turned, arm outstretched in search of my blanket. Blanket... I frowned refusing to open my eyes even as I shivered again. My hip hurt and I wiggled in an effort to get comfortable but my memory foam mattress wasn't what greeted my bruised side.

"Wha-!"

I shot upright out of bed but this wasn't the bed I had fallen asleep in and I faltered in a hunched over seated position. I was in a meadow perfectly circled by thick trunked trees towering above me. Crushed wildflowers pillowed my failing form and outlined my sleeping shape like sad snow angels. The flower themselves were beautiful, delicate white cups reminding me of tulips were scattered around the meadow, overshadowed but the vibrant many petal flowers in jewel tones.

I don't know if it was shock or recognition that kept me frozen but suspended seconds turned minutes passed before I moved into a more comfortable seated position. It was too quiet but even as I thought that I could hear birds off in the distance singing to one another, the rustle of squirrels and the buzzing of something like a cricket? I didn't know enough about bugs to truly know it was a cricket, in my mind crickets chirped and screeched like unskilled violin students but it was the only thing that came to mind when I heard the sound. There was also water moving even further then the birds, a river? So maybe it wasn't too quiet but it was dramatically softer than the busy city I had fallen asleep to.

Pushing off the ground I expected to float up and drift, moving like a ghost over and through things. I didn't. Instead the hard ground met my palms with resistance and a small pebble dug into the fleshy pad below my thumb.

Well that was new... Frowning I gathered my legs up under me and stood, half expecting to float and sorely disappointed when I didn't.

It had been years since I had last been here, maybe things had changed. I didn't pry into why a fictional world I had dreamed up since childhood suddenly changed. I felt crazy enough without needing to defend my actions and train of thought.

I took my first real step and ran into my first real problem.

It hadn't registered when I woke up to the pain in my hip or when I felt the rock pinch my palm as I tried to get up the first time but I felt pain. Not just pain but everything. I had always experienced emotions when I visited as an observer but this was the first time I was feeling sensations. This was real, the sharp broken edge of the flower stem jabbing me between my toes hurt. I took another step and frowned my feet having found a rock this time with the heel of my foot. When I was younger I had feet as tough as steel but I was a grown woman now and running around barefooted was looked down upon at my age.

Breathing deep I squared my shoulder and walked on. I was trying to ignore my soft feet but I walked with a special kind of gait that was sure to look every bit as silly as it felt as I tried to walk softly. Shivering again I continued to press on, my gray light cotton sleep pants and worn star trek cotton shirt offering little to no protection against the early morning chill.

"Mmmm..." I hissed skipping over a step like a drunken bunny when something stabbed at the arch of my foot. I had gone maybe twenty yards, I wasn't making any progress and missed the days when I hovered and floated like a ghost. In an attempt to distract myself I poured over a comparison of this visit and my last.

Five and a half years ago, a lifetime ago... I watched the older father figure sharpen his sword, there was a tiredness that went deeper than just the surface and it reflected in his eyes and dulled the feeling of him. I wanted to help, to do something to make it better, to give him a hug at the very least but all I was able to do was watch. He had grown a beard in the last few months and at first I hated it but it grew on me, even if I did think it made him look older. As the sun dipped below the mountains he paused in his task and slowly stood up and disappeared into the woods. I wanted to follow him but the sight of him hurt my heart and I was secretly happy for the chance to be alone.

I didn't know the name of this place so I had named it myself, to me it was a sanctuary and so that's what I named it. I had seen television programs of places from all around the world and Sanctuary was the best parts of them all. At times it was scary because Sanctuary was filled with magic and beasts that didn't exist in real life but under it all it was perfect. Every time I visited there was a song to the lands, wind chimes and happy flute sounds that you could feel. No matter the moods I was in, or the pains that my episodes gifted me, there was that warm glowing feeling could make it all go away.

My heart raced the closer I got to the tree line and the tips of my fingers pricked with nerves and I paused. I wouldn't call it fear, or maybe I would, welled up inside me as I started forward again. This wasn't right. Something was wrong. Everything screamed at me to run the other direction, the other direction was safer a small voice tried to convince me as I took yet another step towards that sickly feeling. Where was the warmth? The song that wrapped around you like a hug? This was all different, perhaps this was the reason behind the change in this visit versus all the others?

I didn't have an answer to that as I paused again, battling with myself against-

There was a scream.

My head swiveled towards the sound, ears straining to hear more. Maybe it was an animal?

But there it was again and I took off running, the pain in my feet forgotten as I sprinted like my life depended on it. Not in the direction that felt safe and warm but further into the cold clutches of this dreadful illness and towards the screams.

Branches and shrubs thick with thorns pulled at my long hair and I cursed myself for not twisting it into a knot before I started running. Dodging a low hanging limb earned me a stinging slap in the face narrowly missing my eye and I stumbled over an exposed root. I don't know how far I had run or if I was even going the right direction and with my only clues being the few and far between screams I was fairly confident that I was going the wrong way and would never find my way back.

Please be going the right way. Please. I begged as my lungs labored to take in enough air. I had spent too many years behind a desk and it showed in my figure and my burning calf muscles. Another scream was just the motivation I need to keep going, the trees around me started to thin out and I broke through the tree line into a large pasture. Farmlands by the looks of it. In fact as I scanned my surroundings I spied a smoldering building, a once upon a time house perhaps, burned leaving charred rocks, evidence of beams and ash.

My ragged breathing and the shift in the winds brought the smell of more than just a burning house my way. Animals I tried to convince myself but knew deep down the soured smell of rotting burned flesh and the distinct odor of burnt hair was more likely human. I tried breathing past the smell but it was impossible, in the movies and the books they never tell you just how strong the scent of fire and death are. How it clogs the very air itself almost thinning what oxygen there should be there with filth.

Coughing I finished the scan of the area and find nothing and no one responsible for the screams.

I'm too late. My shoulders sagged and my chin dropped to my chest in defeat. If I had only-

"NOOO!!"

A young girl of maybe eleven, arms full of fabric bolted from the side of the burning house. Her dress was torn, ragged and cover in so much soot and ash its original color was unidentifiable. She didn't even look behind her as she ran for her life. Something else that you always saw in movies but didn't seem to be true in real life.

Behind her a creature lumbered with an uneven gait, curved sword in hand and distant closing with every stride.

"GIRL!" I start at a run towards her, confident that against one pursuer I could help her. I even had a smile on my face as the girl changed her heading towards me. Until I look past her and the single assailant had spawned into three, four now five. Shit. "Run! Faster!!" Saying as much was pointless and my voice strained with its feeble effort. I was out of shape and running out of steam.

Still the girl nodded as she ran past me towards the trees I had just come from.

Now what?

There was nothing around me, no weapons or grownups that could actually be of some help. Nothing I could use to stop five lightly armored orc like things all carrying weapons with practiced ease. I had to do something, the alternative was just letting the orc monsters pass by and go after the child.

A rock the size of my fist was the only other thing I could see within reach and I quickly picked up my newfound weapon and chucked it with all my might at the lead orc. It landed a lucky shot, hitting it right under the chin where his helmet gapped and left his throat exposed.

That seemed to be just the ticket for the creature to take notice of me. How it hadn't noticed me before, I don't know but now I had its attention and he charged towards me. As a pack the other four moved with the first orc and all at once the remaining beasts saw me as well.

Shit.

If I wasn't sure of it before I was 100% all aboard sure of it now. I was scared and the closer the pack got to me the more knotted my stomach got. Urg... and I could smell them, they weren’t even that close and if burning flesh scent was horrid the raw sewage, clotted old blood smell of these foul beings was way past ripe and threaten to make me puke right where I stood.

The orc that I had hit with the rock grunted some gurgled sound and lifted his sword high. Ten feet, he was ten feet from me and I was staring death down.

I would have liked to say I was staring down my death with a cold kind of collectiveness worthy of an action movie hero but I wasn't. I choked on my overwhelming panic, heart racing and pounding in my ears and my lungs still not recovered from my frantic run to my death gasped air in uneven breaths. All the while my visions swam with a collection of blinding sunbursts and black fairy spots.

Five feet.

Would anyone even notice I was gone? That I was dead? I swallowed against the pity party I was planning, reminding myself that my sacrifice could be the thing between the girl getting away and her death. My hands curled into fists and my nails bit painfully into my palms. I didn't know what I was going to do other than die but I wasn't going to meet it like a meek mouse. Filling my lungs I screamed out a savage war cry, leaning into the bellowing shout as I stared down the bringer of my death.

- - - - - - - -

“NO!!!” the scream tore from my throat and I felt with a heavy thump from the bed, sheets tangled around my legs as I panted in a mixture of rage and panic. I blinked slowly, eyes gritty with sleep and the sight of my apartment ceiling above me far from the war torn scene I had just woken up from.

Kicking myself free of my blankets I turned and sat up, hissing in pain. I must have landed pretty hard because… “Inconceivable.” Cue Vizzini accent please. My feet were bruised, covered in nicks and scratches yet magically clean except for my smeared blood. “How…” It wasn’t that I didn’t remember my dream, because it did but it was only a dream so how was it possible for me to be injured?

Scrambling to my feet I rushed to the bathroom’s full length mirror and disrobed eye widening at the torn remnants of my clothes followed by the battered evidence of my real life visit upon my body.

“Inconceivable.”