To end all strife

[Poganin]

Closed for Nova4u and myself. Read on and enjoy.

* * * * * * * *

The world of Ragnos has known little peace and much strife since it was created. In the beginning the two gods played dice to decide on their role in creation: Granas – the god of light and hope and Valmar – the god night and death. Later on, when Ragnos was thriving, they were never considered as gods of good and evil but by general consent they were treated as such because of the creatures that had been spawned in the wake of their departure. And so the result of the game between Granas and Valmar had decided that the former would create all creatures dwelling in the grace of the sun, while the latter would take care of designing all life that wakes at sundown or lives underground or in places where the sun could never reach. To facilitate their work they created legions of their servants: the aasimon that the humans would later call angels or deva and the sartan later baptised as demonkind. And so Granas and Valmar along with their helpers worked hard to create a world where the creation of both gods, the humankind, would thrive – Ragnos.

When the work was done and humans inherited the creation of their masters, the gods departed the world to rest from their toil, leaving behind them the aasimon and the sartan to keep watch over the newborn race that was to own Ragnos. Years passed, generations had been born and died and still the servants of the world’s creators moved freely among the multitudes of man and slowly they began joining in the life of mankind, producing hybrid offspring with mortal men and women, offspring that in time would lead to the fall of Ragnos. For those fated children took on traits of their parents, significantly differing from the mortals. Children of the aasimon and humans – called the aasimar, took after the holiness of their immortal sires both in looks and personality and so their radiant, peaceful visages spoke of pure hearts filled with truth and benevolence. Their looks and nature earned them trust and good will of humans populating Ragnos.

But unlike them, the children of the sartan and humans became known as tieflings, little devils, fiendlings and demonkin – their bodies human and yet inhuman: heads adorned by horns, leathery wings on their backs, clawlike fingers, forked tongues and reptilian eyes. Moreover, night dwelled in their souls. As nocturnal creatures, ugly and sometimes monstrous to the eyes of man, tieflings were shunned by their human brethren and looked at with pity in their eyes by their bright hybrid counterparts.

Soon, because of their looks and reclusive nature, they became object of hatred by xenophobic men and women and were forced to retire into the woods, caverns and mountains. At the same time the aasimar enjoyed an era of peace and acceptance among man, not bothered by petty hatred and racist prejudice. Seeing the completeness of the world, the immortal keepers retired as well to sleep by the side of Granas and Valmar. They misjudged their wards.

It wasn’t enough for humans that tieflings were pushed away from society and civilisation, left to fend for themselves and live amongst each other. Paranoia spread and soon humans began inciting new words of hatred, calling for complete extermination of the demonkin. Reluctantly the aasimar had to join this movement lest they too would be considered a threat to mankind. Driven away from their territories, tieflings looked to other places for peace and escaped even farther from civilisation to erect tall aeries where only birds could reach them. Still it wasn’t enough for humans and still they pressed on to eradicate all of the little devils from the face of Ragnos.

When tieflings first beheld the ocean and understood there was nowhere left to escape they decided to fight for what was rightfully theirs, to make a stand against the injustice of the human-aasimar alliance. If mankind wanted so much to see them as devils they would become devils.

Thus the war began…

This story takes place during the first months of the war. Right after the first series of big battles where the forces of man and assimar met the first fierce counterattack by the angered, cornered tieflings. The battle of Baddon Hill.

 

[Poganin]

Kharg

He fell face down when terrible pain exploded in his back, the rattle of the chains binding him echoed the thud of his body meeting the earth below. He felt something searingly hot trickle down his sides but with his body bound he had no way of checking what it was. The pain took away all reason from his mind and for a while he struggled to remember who he was and where he was and what he was doing there, on the ground which smelled of rain and forest and blood. With a clang of his armour and more rattling from the chains around his ankles and wrists he turned on his back, only to scream in agony when his tormented back made contact with the soft moss he was lying on, spores, water and everything making contact with the raw, living flesh. When his vision came back he realised he was watching the small parts of the greenish Ragnosian sky through a thick canopy of leaves of darker green. The silence around him was scary, no bird sang, no wind made the trees move, no sound from his companions either. What companions? he thought. Blinking the tears of pain away he lifted his head a little only to let it fall back the same instant when he felt the terrible agony return.

It was enough, though, enough to notice the source of his torment. For to the two nearby trees, nailed like some sort of obscene banners were his two wings, hanging like dead kites. They (what they?!) had bound him and hammered his wings to the trees, taking his pride away from him. The weight of his body did the rest, tearing the supporting frame bones from their sockets. He groaned in realisation that he was never to fly again, never to watch the beauty of Ragnos from the heights of his aerie. Then he recalled that it had been toppled by humans who sought to chase his kind away from this realm.

As he turned his head left and right he saw countless bodies lying on the ground, pinned to the trees by arrows and spears, impaled on swords, cleft by axes, burned and torn by magic. WAR flashed in his head, burning the three runes into his brain and he recalled what had happened. He and his unit were supposed to go through this forest and outflank the alliance army and wait for the sign to attack, driving the light infantry against the phalanx of spearmen, giving their own hellish cavalry the opportunity to divide the opposing force into three groups. But their plan failed, they had either been betrayed or outsmarted by the enemy. No doubt an aasimar strategist foreseeing their manoeuvre and countering it or a human necromancer, prying the secrets of their captured companions form the still steaming entrails of their disembowelled corpses. He and his unit had met with a fierce, overwhelming opposition and were cut down where they stood. His men tried to buy him some time to escape and pass the word to the main force that had been charging downhill at that very moment. What idiot conceived the plan to send the winged drakyrians into a forest?! If it hadn’t been for the trees he would have been able to fly up and join his army in an instant, but here he had had to run as fast as possible.

He had failed to escape, he had been ambushed, caught, wounded and beaten and tortured and left to die when part of the battle took place among the trees. Now it was all over with, there was no sound of battle or fighting, no moans of the wounded, no cheers of the victors. Nothing. Groaning he turned once again and biting his lip until blood flowed he started crawling towards the water he could smell with his keen nose. It was a slow progress, with the custom-made armour to shield his body where it was unprotected by the hard scales and the chains weighing him down, making his movements awkward and the pain ripping his back making him pass out from time to time. But when he finally reached the small pond, he drank deep and long, stopping only to draw breath and then continuing. He saw his face reflected in the water, almost human features made sharp by narrow, menacing eyes, thin line of lips and pointed ears that ended in small tufts of down, two horns curling back from his temples and disappearing in the thick mane of black hair.

There was a rustle behind him and he tried to turn to see who or what was coming but only managed to go half way when the sudden movement opened the two wounds on his back and his vision was clouded by swirling black and red specks. When his eyes cleared he could only see two feet before his face. The smell told him more that his eyes would if he only could look up.

Kharg closed his eyes, awaiting the aasimar’s flamesword to pin him to the ground and let him join his fallen comrades.

 

[nova4u]

Auryn

The stench of death hung in the air, thick and vile. Her breath came short and ragged, labored by some unknown mass covering her body. She lay still, eyes closed, focusing on breathing and gathering her strength; but she needed to move. Her eyes fluttered open, then shut quickly with the realization and horror that the weight atop her was two of her fallen comrades, the same two she had been fighting alongside just a short time ago. Or was it a short time? Auryn knew not how long she had lain unconscious, but the pale dual suns of Ragnos hanging low in the sky told her it could not have been more than a few hours.

She struggled to push the heavy, armor-laden bodies off to free herself, and crawled to sit up. As she did, pain shot like fire through her left wing and shoulder. She looked down to find an arrow had run through her heavy armor and shoulder; the tip had pierced the upper portion of her beautiful white-feathered wing, now stained with free-flowing, golden blood. She reached for a small vial from the pouch at her waist and filled it to the brim with the precious, golden fluid, corking it tightly. This may come in handy, she mused, tucking it back and drawing the pouch closed.

First things first… Auryn stood and moved to a nearby tree, bracing her back against it. Taking a deep breath and gritting her teeth, she grasped the arrow firmly and ripped it from the wounds, falling to her knees in pain. Blood spilled to the forest floor in a golden puddle, seeping into the ground. She moved her right hand to hover over the pain and muttered an incantation of healing, smiling as the wounds slowly disappeared; golden stains the only remaining evidence of her injuries.

She found a nearby boulder and sat upon it, flexing and extending her wings to their fullest. Why were we sent here? she wondered. The humans she could understand, even the aasimar ground forces, but her entire aerial squadron had been sent in on foot through a forest, and no one seemed to question the orders at the time.

The battle had been swift and fierce, and from where she sat, it was clear every nearly weapon imaginable had been used. The dead were scattered everywhere, run through, slashed, pinned, burned and torn; her heart grew heavy as she looked on at the massacre before her. Most of the bodies were the enemy tieflings, but a significant number of humans and aasimars had fallen; she had nearly been one of them. She remembered only fragments of the battle, charging to meet the enemy head on with a loud battle cry and flamesword drawn. Throughout her 24 years, she had been trained as a warrior, and used her skill and expertise to cut through the enemy lines. Many details were a blur, but she remembered her sword being knocked from her hand during a heated one-on-one brawl. When the tiefling drew back his sword to run her through, she seized the chance to jump and fly to a high tree branch out of his reach. Auryn quickly reached out to empty space, her hand surrounded in a brief, shimmering haze. When she pulled it back in her grip was a mighty longbow. She crouched in the limited protection of the tree branches and fired arrow after arrow, an endless supply each from whence the bow came, each hitting their target precisely. The last thing she remembered was searing pain as an arrow shot from the ground ripped through her, then falling and…the rest was gone. And here she was now, the only survivor for as far as she could see.

She rose from the large rock and surveyed the area, spotting her flamesword nearby amongst the dead. She retrieved it, and breathed a sigh of relief that the prized family treasure was in her hands once again, and wiped the blade clean before placing it back in its sheath but stopped mid-way…she had heard something. Quietly drawing her weapon, she stood and listened for the sound again. It was farther into the forest, but her uncanny hearing did not deceive her; it was a distinct sound of chains rattling and leaves rustling, only for a minute or so, then quiet for a while and the sound would start up again, forming a pattern. She followed the sound from the trees, gliding silently from one tree branch to another until she saw him: a badly wounded tiefling, bound in chains and making his way slowly on his stomach to a nearby pond. She watched him pass out and regain conciousness a few times before he finally made it to the pond, drinking his fill of the water.

Auryn saw no threat from him in his bound and wounded state, and glided to the ground, walking up to him. As he twisted to see her he winced in pain from the ghastly wounds on his back. She felt for him and shuddered as she realized he was a flyer, or at least had been. She could only imagine the physical and emotional torment he must be going through. She took the tip of her blade to his chin and gently lifted his head to look at him, reading his face. Auryn lowered her blade and his head, returning the flamesword to its sheath. “You’re of more use to me alive than dead, tiefling…for now at least,” she said, hoisting him effortlessly over her shoulder as he moaned in pain. She carried him to a nearby tree and sat him on the ground in front of it, careful not to let his garish wounds brush the surface of the bark behind him. Stepping back and sitting on a fallen log, she eyed him suspiciously. “Tell me everything you know, and I may decide to release your bonds.”

 

[Poganin]

Kharg

Fighting the overwhelming nausea caused by his wounds and bruises and water filling his stomach, Kharg turned his head to the side with a sneer and spat out the bile that filled his mouth. He found the very presence of the aasimar offensive not only because of their looks but because they had actually betrayed their own kind. And the one sitting before him was even worse, toying with him instead of skewering him and letting him die. Death was better than never to feel again the wind blow through his hair as he plunges down from great height or to be able to sit on top of his aerie and watch the sunset. Then he remembered that his house had been toppled, ripped apart by magic at the base and caused to fall with a thunderous rumble along with hundreds of other dwellings of the winged drakyrians. He remembered the shrieks, the desperate cries from within and his own helplessness when he had been fighting away a strike squad of allied aasimar flyers, their wings sliced and torn by his magic. There was a kind of perverse pleasure to see them plunge towards the earth miles below, knowing that the last moments of their traitorous lives were to be spent screaming in terror.

Kharg tried to move his back to support himself better against the tree and cringed in pain and it did even more to fuel the hate he was feeling for this beautiful aasimar sitting before him. Her scent, her radiant visage, her white-golden hair and her wings of pure white -- all those things were filling him with such hatred that his eyes took on their devilish red tinge of fury. He wanted to get up and slowly rip those wonderful wings from her back, shave her head and mutilate her and then bring her back to his camp as a war trophy, perhaps even make her his slave. However, he was in no position to do that because he was the prisoner of war and she was the captor. But the thought of surrender never crossed his mind.

"I'll tell you what I know, aasimar," he growled in his deep, rumbling voice that carried menace even when gentle. "I know that you are traitors to our kind and puppets of those hateful humans. You obey them like the lapdogs that you are. I know that you are murderers of innocents and a genocidal, bloodthirsty..." he stopped, fighting for breath and fighting the darkness that was clouding his vision. "You murder our elders, women and children. And for what? Because humans tell you to. It wasn't enough that you have driven us away from our settlements, from our forests and caves, from our glorious aeries..." His voice faltered when he recalled his home once again but he regained his composure at looked up at the woman questioning him. "Unchain me and fight me, aasimar," he shook his head defiantly and immediately regretted it as white and red specks danced in front of his eyes, almost hypnotising him to unconsciousness.

 

[nova4u]

Auryn

Auryn listened to his hate-filled words with mixed feelings of contempt and pity, knowing most of what he said was true, at least from his perspective. She had been on some of those battles and raids herself, following commands from her superiors. She sometimes questioned the crudeness and brutality of her orders, but only to herself; her militant training had taught her that much from the beginning. It was very different though, hearing it from a “victims” viewpoint. Until now, she had never thought of the innocent civilians swept away in the path of war, only the enemy fighting against her.

Yet enemy he was. “Unchain me and fight me, aasimar,” he said, filled with spite.

And she would have, had her prisoner been in better shape. No sooner than the words left his mouth, he wavered in a trance-like state, looking down and trying to blink away whatever was before his eyes. Instead, she laughed at him, “I hardly think that would be a fair fight. You are barely able to sit, let alone wield a weapon! No, tiefling, I have plans for you.”

Her laughter only served to infuriated him more, and as he fought against his chains his unsteadiness got the better of him. He landed on his back, ripping the raw wounds open once more. He grimaced and shrieked in pain, barely managing to roll to his stomach before losing consciousness.

Auryn finally managed to control her laughter and regain her composure, thinking of the situation before her. She had to move on; the close presence of death in the forest was something loathsome and made her uneasy, though she would never let it be known to someone else. Her captive would make a nice trophy to bring back to her commanders, and the nearest allied base camp was only one day travel if they alternated flying and walking.

The decision made, she moved to examine him more closely. His wounds were severe, and there would be no way she could carry him for the entire journey. She needed him with enough strength to at least walk without passing out, and reached in her pouch for the blood-filled vial. Knowing if he were conscious he would never allow her to heal him, let alone allow her blood to be used in treating his wounds, she carefully uncorked the vial and dripped a single golden drop to the center of each of the gaping, wingless tears on his back. At first there was nothing, but after a few moments faint wisps of some unknown vapor began to rise up. She watched intently as the wounds became clean, and capillaries, nerves, muscles and bone began to heal, rebuilding what was left of him. Skin grew, soon to be followed by his protective reptilian scales. His breathing grew deeper and calmer, and Auryn stepped back to sit down again. Night would fall soon. He would sleep now, and when he awoke they would start their journey.

-----------------------------------------------------

Like most aasimars, Auryn needed very little sleep, and spent most of the night restlessly walking about. The tiefling slept soundly in his chains while his body continued to regenerate. Just before daybreak, he stirred, and she came to his side. “It’s about time you awoke. Come…we have a long journey today. And since we will be traveling together, you may call me Auryn.”

 

[Poganin]

Kharg

Kharg was sleeping, dreaming of the last time he had been flying when the aasimar’s offensive scent reached his nostrils and made him wake up. His senses warned him of no danger other than being at the mercy of his hated enemy, blood was still slowly seeping into the moss and the earth and the forest rustled as it had been for millennia. Slowly he opened his eyes, sticky from the sleep, and with a sudden start he noticed that he was very well rested, his strength regenerated and his mind clear save for the dreamy haze still tumbling through it. He was acutely aware of his surroundings, all of his senses somehow sharpened and fine tuned as if the lack of wings had had to be compensated. He groaned and got on all fours, trying to remember when he had fallen asleep but couldn’t quite grasp the moment. He recalled pouring some of his bitterness out on his captor but then there was only a dark wall of oblivion, nothing.

“It’s about time you awoke. Come…we have a long journey today. And since we will be travelling together, you may call me Auryn.” He heard a sound that could only be one thing, the menacing hiss of steel rubbing on leather and then the song of the chains on his legs protesting as they were cut clean, not even a scratch on his skin.

Kharg moved his head a little to the side to catch her in his peripheral field of vision at least and sneered. “I don’t care what they call you, traitor!” he growled. “I don’t care what your name is because the first chance you give me I’ll kill you. No need to remember the name of the dead,” Kharg spat and slowly got up, expecting the pain in his back to explode any moment but nothing of the sort happened: there was no pain, no soreness, not even as much as pinprick of irritation. “What did you do to me when I was out, witch!?” he called back to Auryn who pushed him onward and started moving through the thicket herself, carefully avoiding both the shrubs and the pools of congealed blood.

“You didn’t think I would actually be carrying you, did you, tiefling? You are a prisoner of war and not some royalty. I needed you in shape good enough for you to walk. You should be thanking me, there will be no scars on your back, no trace whatsoever…” she added slowly, almost singing the last part.

Once again Kharg felt hatred boiling in him and wondered if he would be able to rip the chains on his wrists with his magic but decided to keep his abilities a secret for a better occasion. Cursing he started moving too. Who did she think she was, acting all high and mighty? He wished he could get his hands on her throat and slowly put out the sparkle of life in her, enjoying every moment of it. Kharg wasn’t bloodthirsty or especially fond of killing but he thought that traitors and killers of his people deserved rightful punishment for their transgressions and since Auryn was the only person he could unload the burden of his hatred on she became the representative of the enemy and thus needed to suffer for all the crimes of the alliance. And he would have his vengeance on her and the rest of them.

They were walking in silence for what felt like hours and he was grateful for it for he knew not if he would have enough patience to listen to her talk. Then it occurred to him that they should have reached the edge of the forest quite a while ago. He and his unit had entered some two hundred yards into the forest and when he had been trying to escape the ambush he had run diagonally for the battlefield and not deeper into the trees. By now the two of them walked at least a mile and there was no edge whatsoever, the open space did not loom further on.

“Either you got us lost, aasimar, or we aren’t walking to your camp.” He stopped walking and turned and thought that for a moment he could see a frown of apprehension on her face that was quickly covered by her stern mask of seriousness.

“Shut up!” she snapped and slowly studied their surroundings. They had already left the area where the skirmish had taken place and the forest was clean of blood and the dead. Still, there were no birds and the morning suns filtered through the leaves were making everything intensely green.

“Where are you leading me, woman?” he demanded to know, he wasn’t afraid because he knew that once they got everything they needed out of him they would pass him on to their human necromancers. Either way he would die.

“I told you to can it!” she snapped once again and he could almost see her ears move as she studied the area. His own nose wasn’t telling him anything, there was no danger. “That way.” She nodded and pushed him forward. She was stronger than she looked, he remembered how easily she had lifted him yesterday. And he wasn’t small either, six feet two, well built and strong too but her frame belied her power. Of course there was much more to her powers than just her physical constitution. He had to watch her closely.

After half an hour or so they finally reached the edge of the forest and when they saw the battlefield they both stopped, rooted to the spot, astonished by the sight. In the place where the battle had taken or should have taken place the ground was burned deep in a huge, perfect circle several hundred yards in diameter. It must have been burned and the temperature so high that the earth turned to glass but there was no smoke in the air. Moreover there were no bodies, no dead tieflings or humans or aasimar. The small meadow beneath the Baddon hill was completely empty save for the large, black circle.

“Spast!” Kharg cursed.

 

[nova4u]

Auryn

He was right; they should have been through the forest by now. It was almost as if the forest had changed shape overnight; she had to use her instinct and continually listen for clues pointing them in the right direction. But there were no obvious clues, just his incessant mouth… gods he was vexing! She thought to gag him just to quiet the petty insults and accusations, but just then, they cleared the edge of the forest.

Auryn was hardly ever surprised, but stood in shock at what lay before her. She stared and could think of no rational explanation for the scene before them. What is going on here? Hearing her captive swear snapped her back to reality. “KEEP ON!” she said, shoving him to move around the circle rather than through it. Auryn rarely had fear, but her uncertainty from this unexplainable sight made her cautious, avoiding walking within the circle. No doubt the base camp would have an account of this and explain what had taken place.

They continued around the perimeter a few hundred feet in silence, still taking in the damaged area until she motioned for him to stop. “We will fly now,” she said matter-of-factly, walking towards him.

He looked at her with disgust and backed away. “You seriously think I would fly with you? And what were you planning on doing…carrying me?” He laughed and spat on the ground before her. “I would sooner die than take to the air with an aasimar traitor!”

“Yes, I will be carrying you, and your death can easily be arranged…” With a flash Auryn quickly drew her sword and held it to his neck. The defiant tiefling sneered but froze as the sharp blade slowly ran along the side of his neck until the hilt stopped just under his jaw. Keeping the blade to his neck she slowly moved behind him, reaching for her flame dagger. She reached around his waist with one arm, holding the dagger near his stomach to a more vulnerable part of his armor, then sheathed her sword. Wrapping both arms around him with the dagger in place she held him tightly to her body. She stretched out her wings and they were off, soaring to the sky.

This is too easy… Auryn thought to herself. Moments before he had nearly requested his own death rather than fly with her, but then did not even so much as struggle. He was up to something, and she had better watch him closely through their flight. She still had no firm ideas as to his abilities or strength, especially now that she had healed him.

She flew over the perfect, black circle in the meadow a few times, trying to see if there were any indication of what caused it that they had missed from the ground, but still nothing struck her. Turning, she altered their course to the direction of the aasimar camp. With the extra burden of carrying the tiefling, she estimated an hour or two of flight before she would need to rest without over-tiring herself. Even with him still partially chained, she needed to be alert and strong should he try to fight.

The wind in her face was refreshing after being grounded for a few days in the forest. She tightened her grip on him and rose higher in the sky, enjoying the flight despite the circumstances. Just then her keen ears heard something beyond the rush of air…it was him…mumbling something quietly under his breath… He shifted slightly in her hold and turned his head, giving her a mocking glare. Her hand closed even tighter around the dagger and she pressed the tip to his stomach just enough to let him feel the sharp point.

 

[Poganin]

Kharg

The mere idea was more than Kharg could stand -- to be flying, soaring through the clouds with a traitor to their race was like a slap on the cheek, insulting but bearable; but he was deprived of his wings and as such was obviously unable to fly so the thought that he was to be carried by his worst enemy was the ultimate insult, because it was questioning his strength. Now that he didn’t have wings he had to live with what was left to him, that is very little, he only had himself and his abilities, everything else was lost. And now this aasimar was mocking him by stating that she would be carrying him like a burden, like a sack of grain, this was almost too much. For a moment he considered head-butting Auryn and hoping that the blow would knock her out, allowing him to escape but the hot blade of her flamesword against his neck quickly doused his rage. He realised something. She was taking him to his death at the hands of her troops, he would be made an example of and there would be no one to speak of his martyrdom. He calmed down, understanding that death was imminent one way or the other, whether he was to die now by the hands of this hateful woman or later, court-martialled and executed was making no difference -- he would die anyway. Or he could kill himself and deprive his enemies of the pleasure of torturing him, if luck permitted he would take this aasimar to hell with him. That is why he feigned meekness and let himself be carried up.

He was going to call the greatest, most devastating tornado Ragnos had ever seen the moment Auryn gained enough height not to be able to fly for cover or outfly the winds. Her wings would be torn asunder, her panicked shrieks stifled by the violent gusts pushing them back into her throat, making her death silent yet violent as her body would be endlessly battered by invisible fists of air. He would die crashing against the earth but she would die too, a most horrible death struck by his innate element of air.

However, when Auryn circled the meadow, taking a bird’s view at the place that used to be the battlefield he realised this was probably the last time he was ever going to behold Ragnos and its beauty from the skies. His hatred and bitterness all but evaporated from his heart as his eyes saw the powerful nature of Ragnos at work, its rich green colours: the greenish sky, now brighter, almost white with a greenish tinge to it, the endless plateaus of green grass and the forests of dark green. At this very moment he pitied all wingless creatures who would never see this sight, bound by gravity, forced to crawl on the ground. So he wanted the moment to last and not end with Auryn’s strength leaving her body from the strain of carrying him, his armour and the chains binding his wrists. He realised he could have his revenge against her for the humiliation he was suffering by humiliating her too.

He knew little about humans and the aasimar save for the fact that humans hated his kind and the aasimar followed the humans in their traitorous manner. But he knew one thing very well, they were proud creatures, with the notions of honour held in high esteem. He was able to strike her a blow without using his hands. He glanced at Auryn from the corner of his eye, a mocking sneer twisting his lips, he wanted her to realise afterwards that it was his doing. As he turned back he started chanting the incantation with hushed murmur. Very soon he felt the alien breeze ruffling his hair and he could feel the power of air surging in his veins alongside his boiling blood. Only this time he wasn’t trying to made the winds his weapons but his allies, his mind and words aligned themselves with the currents of air surrounding Auryn and after a while he felt the familiar displacement as he at the same time felt his own weight and the aasimar’s strong arms holding him with his own senses and felt himself, Auryn, her moving wings with the senses of the air. It was as if his nervous system had suddenly expanded beyond his body, linking with the element of air as it became a part of his body. He felt the temptation to cause mayhem, to make the winds blow at them violently, causing them to lose the momentum and plunge to the ground far below. He managed to suppress it and created a different weave of air. A supporting current that ascended at a gentle angle and took the burden of their weights on it, letting Auryn fly easier, thus questioning her own strength, stamina and abilities. He knew this was a blow more humiliating than any wound he could cause her with a weapon.

Satisfied with his revenge he devoted half of his consciousness to control the winds carrying them and half to watch the world passing beneath them.

 

[nova4u]

Auryn

What was he doing? Nothing, it seemed at first. Whatever he had done or was trying to do, did not seem to be doing much of anything. As he turned his face away from her again, she almost laughed at him; he was at her mercy, and they both knew it.

Auryn felt a change in the wind, subtle at first, then steadily growing. The flight was nearly perfect as she adjusted to the new air currents. Another flawless flight. Auryn prided herself in her agile flight abilities; her father had taught her to fight in the air, and her mother had taught her to fly with grace. They each had trained her well, and the combination brought forth a precision and passion in each and every flight.

The wind currents in this region had never been so sustaining, so effortless, almost carrying them with natures own accord, almost like…magic. Auryn almost lost her grip on her captive when she realized what he had done. How dare he question her abilities! She fixed her grip on him, thanking the gods that he did not turn to see the sudden flush on her pale skin from the virtual slap on the face he had dealt her. In her humiliated anger her next thought was to drop him to a crashing death below, but she quickly forced her composure and self-control. Far better to use this so-called “ego assault” as it was, and draw on the new winds for their support. This would only leave her stronger should a fight between them occur.

==============

A couple of hours later Auryn touched down on top of a broad hillside, giving her captive a shove as they landed. He lost his footing and fell, but just as quickly was on his feet, even while still partially chained. It had been a test of his agility, and by his response Auryn knew he was completely recovered from his injuries. By the looks of him he had enough muscle and strength in his arms to break the chains binding his arms, and yet he did not make any effort to free himself.

They stood several feet apart, watching each other intently, each ready to move should the other attempt to strike. Auryn still with dagger in hand, and took a step towards him. “Hold still,” she warned, slowly closing the distance between them. He stood his ground, unmoving, eyes glued to her weapon. Auryn brought the dagger to the base of his throat, toying with the idea of killing him right there. Instead, in one swift downward motion his chains fell to the ground, freeing him. They both moved, putting distance between them once more.

“Why?” He questioned, rubbing his arms where his bonds had been. This was certainly something he had not expected, considering they were enemies at war.

Auryn thought for a moment, as she was uncertain herself why she had freed her prisoner. Something had just told her to… almost like a clear voice in the back of her mind. “No reason. I am confident that I would have no problem restraining you again should I have to, and no doubt in my abilities to overtake you should you try to attack,” she said haughtily.

“Is that so?” he said, chuckling softly. He sat down on a nearby rock and grinned at her. “We shall see, won’t we Auryn?” mocking her name as he said it. “So tell me, why are you involved in this? Do any aasimars think for themselves or are you all drones for the humans’ bloodthirsty quests? If anything the aasimars should be fighting with us; we are of the same kind, yet you seek to destroy us.”

“This war is about survival. If we had joined with you, our kind would die,” she said, repeating what had been drilled into her months before the war started. “You tieflings are nothing but nocturnal demons, waiting to attack whoever comes in your way.” Even as she said the words she questioned them in her mind. These words were the words of the alliance, not her own. “Do I even have words of my own?” she thought to herself. His questioning had caught her off guard, and for once she wasn’t so sure of herself.

 

[Poganin]

Kharg

Hearing Auryn’s response Kharg gave a low, rumbling laugh that carried heavy, bitter undertones. What ridiculous argumentation, he thought, no doubt tailored by human leaders. Nocturnal demons, are we? he pondered looking at the grass darkened by his shadow. True, tieflings were a nocturnal race, their senses operating best after sundown. There was no underlying fear of the dark in his race for night was their element and moonlight and starlight as dear to their eyes as the darkness, clinging to them so naturally, going through them and around them. Yes, tieflings were of the dark but they weren’t evil as humans no doubt tried to portray them: horned demons attacking helpless villagers and stealing their livestock, threatening to rape their women and burn whole settlements down. This war, the whole persecution of his kith and kin was a great injustice and their armed stand was to right this wrong. Time would tell the result but Kharg knew one thing, tieflings will either win their freedom or die trying.

“You don’t know much about us, do you?” he asked, looking up and squinting from the suns pouring light down on the hill, hating her lofty appearance and graceful movements.

“I know enough to…” Auryn started but he cut her short with another barking laugh. “How dare you laugh at me, tiefling!”

“If you know enough than you should know that we have never made a deliberate attack on humans or on you. We were content enough to live on the fringes of civilisation with little interaction with other races. We kept to ourselves fully aware that we are repulsive to you because of our blood, that we are wrongly feared. But we were fine with that, we didn’t bother you, you bothered us only from time to time but not enough to cause irritation. We even led you out of our forests or caves when you got lost in there. But our calm existence was somehow irritating to you,” Kharg continued quietly, but not calmly for lines of muscles on his arms and his clenched jaw when he stopped talking for a while showed the amount of fury waiting to be let out and his eyes burned an amber fire in the green light. “So you chased us out from our dwellings, forced us to retreat further into the unexplored regions where we tried to recreate our homes. Still it wasn’t enough, was it? You had to make us go even farther than that. So we decided to create our paradise high in the clouds, in tall towers built with our sweat and blood and dreams and still it wasn’t enough for you. You pressed us on until there was nowhere else to press us to! Did you expect us to meekly bow and die at your whim? NO!” he shouted and pounded his left, scaly fist on the stone he was sitting on. “We suffered enough of humiliation! We were born into this world just like humans and you, aasimar, we have equal right to live on Ragnos according to our ways!”

“Not after what you did in Crell Monferaigne you don’t!” she countered. “I heard the tales and recollections of the victims of your wicked magicks, how the city burned from your fury, how you killed and mauled and mutilated! You deserved this! And you will pay for all those who lost their lives in the fires afterwards.”

“There was never a tiefling settlement near Crell Monferaigne to raid it,” Kharg said barely controlling his anger.

“Don’t lie to me, tiefling! Everyone knows your kind was seen in the city, ransacking the ruins and desecrating the dead.”

“Looking for survivors and saving what could be saved. Helping those who lost everything like my people had. We could sympathise with the victims knowing full well how it felt to have lost everything in just one day.”

“Lies! All lies! Don’t try to twist the facts in your favour to gain leniency!”

“I’m not. Believe what you will. I couldn’t care less. One day Valmar will wake up and when he sees what was done to us he will avenge us…” he wanted to continue but a rumbling in his stomach interrupted him. He always felt hungry after spellcasting. Sneering at Auryn and spitting on the ground he got up. Immediately her hands grasped the hilt of her flamesword and drew it several inches from the scabbard.

“What are you doing?” she asked when he crouched next to the rock he had been sitting on and slowly tilted it to the side.

“Looking for food… Do you want some? Flapping those wings must be tiresome,” he offered with a challenging grin and opened his hand full of wiggling earthworms while stuffing his mouth full with the same content from his other hand.

 

[nova4u]

Auryn

Auryn sheathed her sword and watched silently, while he shoved the long, thick wriggling worms into his mouth and chewed, slurping them in as they squirted and squirmed, trying to escape their fateful end. She had to admit she was hungry, but the thought of filling her mouth and body with the filth of the earth made her stomach churn. Thank the gods she had survival skills of her own.

“No, thank you. I’ll find my own food…something aside from dirty grubs lying under a rock.” With no time to hunt, Auryn wandered over to some nearby bushes, leaving him to dig in the soil as the crawling creatures hastily dove beneath the surface of the ground. She was fully knowledgeable in the assorted vegetation of the land, and quickly found an abundance of edible berries and flowers; even the leaves of most of them were fit to eat. And so they sat, each eating their chosen meal, chasing away the pangs of hunger in silence.

As they finished off the last of the last of their makeshift feast, Auryn spoke again. “We will continue walking for a few hours, then fly the last leg of the journey.”

“Before we move on,” he said as he eyed her intently. “I still fail to see your opinion of this war. Do you truly have one? You have heard mine, yet all I have heard from you is quoted propaganda from the human-aasimar alliance.”

“Propaganda?” Auryn said incredulously, his words once more striking a chord in her being. She turned her face from him, breathing deep to calm herself before giving an answer. Finally, she looked back at him. “My opinion matters not, but what I believe is what I see. I’ve seen the looks on the faces of tieflings in battle, full of rage and cruelty. I’ve seen the aftermath of humans who have crossed your paths, beaten and ripped apart. I’ve listened to your lies and insults, your disgust for the human race and the aasimar. And I believe every single bit of it. You and your people have yet to give me reason to believe otherwise.”

“Perhaps the things you have seen or heard were misguided or poorly judged,” he said calmly. “Perhaps it is time for you to form your opinion based on solid fact rather than biased or unproven information, and let it be known to those around you. You say it matters not, but it does… All of our opinions will matter before this war will see its end.”

“This conversation is over, tiefling. I will not continue listening to your philosophizing and questioning.” Auryn stood, adjusting her armor. “Let’s move on.”

He stood, shaking his head, silently contemplating the possibility of escape. She was beginning to let her guard down, or so her body language told him. Often her back would be turned to him, or she would be occupied with another matter, deep in thought, but her senses remained keen and sharp, even still. He moved alongside her, putting a bit of extra distance between them as they began traveling again, testing her observations.

 

[Poganin]

Kharg

Walking down the gentle slope of the hill Kharg could see the smoke of campfires gliding lazily to the sky only sometimes disturbed by the gentle breeze. He listened to the wind for a moment to judge whether his earlier magic hadn’t cause too great a disturbance in the air movements but nothing spoke of any trouble, there was no accidental tornado approaching. Even though he was resigned to his fate he felt his step falter for a moment and quickly he covered it pretending to stumble when Auryn glanced at him. A few hours ago his fate hadn’t seemed so ominous but he realised that quite soon another pillar of smoke could join those already present if his captors decided to burn him at the stake. Somehow suddenly Kharg considered his life being very dear to him. He desperately wished that he had his wings so he could take into the air and escape and he had no doubt that with wind as his ally he could easily outfly Auryn and hide. The thought of running away nested itself in his heart and he felt adrenaline pumped into his limbs partially from his desperate predicament and partially because he was preparing to run.

“Don’t even think about running away, tiefling. I’ll shoot you in the back if I have to and I never miss,” his captor warned and boasted which made his skin crawl and he jerked his head, looking at her with heated hatred blazing in his red eyes. Somehow he thought her warning wasn’t just empty talk and she had the advantage of flight over him too.

Kharg forced his muscles to relax and his body to lose the accumulated tension and resumed normal walk, as much as someone walking to their death could walk normally. Besides there was nowhere to run to, and nowhere to hide. They had left the forest behind them and were in a hilly area where he could easily be found by airborne warriors. His only option was to wait for nightfall and use the darkness to his advantage… providing that he would live to see the sunset. The alliance could just as well order him executed on the spot without any interrogation whatsoever.

“You’re making a big mistake. We’ve never harmed anyone,” he tried reasoning with Auryn, his growling voice suddenly soft and disillusioned.

“Are you begging for your life now? I thought you had more dignity. It’s not us who started this war,” she replied coldly but there was none of her earlier determination in her voice as if her thoughts were occupied with something.

“All you needed to do was to leave us alone, leave us in peace,” he said and shook his head. Suddenly he felt the only victim of this hideous war, as if the whole responsibility for this armed conflict rested on his shoulders and he was going to pay for this rebellion.

Then he remembered the Battle of Tiefling Aeries and how every fight-capable tiefling had faced the onslaught of the alliance forces to defend what had become their homes. And the total failure of that defence. They hadn’t been warriors yet then, just a peaceful people seeking normal life free from the constant hardships of escape. They had no idea how to mount a battlefront or how to apply tactics and how to use the advantages of each race. So even though their opposition had been fierce they lost the fight and hundreds of tieflings perished along with their tall, cloud-reaching spires, crushed under the rubble, falling thousands off feet to be buried under mountains of stone and mortar. He wasn’t the only victim but one of the many and at the moment he was alone.

Kharg was so lost in his mourning, desperate thoughts that he didn’t even notice that Auryn once again grabbed him and lifted him in the air to take him on the last part of the journey towards the alliance camp.

 

[nova4u]

Auryn

He was much like dead weight, almost limp in her arms as they flew the last leg of their journey. Auryn headed off towards the visible but far off swirls of smoke in the distance and again pondered the events of the last couple of days. No soldiers from either side of the battle were left alive in the forest, save the two of them. No looting from the victors…who exactly were the victors of that battle? So many had fallen on both sides, yet both armies were sizeable; it was almost as if the survivors had vanished in an instant. Perhaps the battle had moved by some means into the meadow where the fighting was quenched by the heat of a holy fire, burned to nothing in a vast, black circle. And through it all, why were these two the only spared? One aasimar and one tiefling, each left to recount what they did not understand.

They passed over a large, thick forest; cresting a tall ridge of trees, she could see the base camp clearly below, and began a slow decent as she closed the distance. The tiefling lifted his head and noticed it too, tensing up in her arms. Beneath them lie a meadow, centered in a dense area of trees with rows upon rows of olive green tents. The grass was trampled and muddy from the constant bustling of activity. In a large central area free of tents, troops were drilling for combat. Above the ground troops, flyers were practicing military exercises of their own, pairing off to train in the air. Auryn circled, and saw several senior command officers conferring over a map outside the command post tent.

She landed a dozen feet or so from them with the tiefling tight in her grip. The officers continued their rhetoric, back and forth at each other, until one by one they became silent and stared at the sight in front of them.

“First Lieutenant Auryn Glidewynd, reporting for duty. General Taruk, I have brought a gift for you.”

“So I see. Good work Lieutenant; I look forward to a full report by morning,” he said; a tall man with a large, muscular frame, brown hair and brown eyes. The look on his face was stern as he turned to the guards nearby. “Take him to my tent for questioning.” Two aasimar guards, each with four arms, grabbed the tiefling from Auryn and dragged him away without a struggle, disappearing around a corner.

“Lieutenant Glidewynd, it is good to see you; we feared you were among the fallen,” a familiar voice sounded, stepping out from behind the General. He was slightly taller than Auryn, with deep, golden skin, a wild, thick mane of pure white hair, powerful white-feathered wings much like Auryn’s, and white-gold eyes that bore into her soul as he spoke.

“Captain Stormblade,” Auryn said, catching her breath and nodding curtly as she acknowledged him. It had been months since their relationship ended, but the bond was still there, pulling at her heart as they looked at one another.

General Taruk spoke, breaking the awkward silence. “Gentlemen, I think we are done here. Stormblade, see to it that the Lieutenant is assigned proper quarters. And Lieutenant, please join me for dinner this evening; I would like to hear a recount of your past days events, and how you came across this tiefling. You are all dismissed.”

“Come, Lieutenant,” Stormblade said, motioning for her to follow.

 

[Poganin]

Kharg

From the moment the alliance camp appeared Kharg’s eyes and mind were furiously working to get in as many details as possible: estimated number of troops, camp layout, types of units, weaponry and equipment. With the plan of escape taking seed in his head, he hoped he would be able to reach the remnant of his own army and pass the details to mount another strike. Below he could see the height of military organisation and readiness for action. Even though the camp seemed calm and relaxed, he could see that underneath they were all trained soldiers, unlike the tiefling army that was only starting to learn the secrets of tactics. He could also see that they were prepared for another battle, ready to face any assault. Armed sentries were pacing the perimeter and flyers were guarding the space above. On the other hand, Kharg also noticed how destroyed and ravaged the area was: grass trampled and taken over by dust and mud, patches of soil ripped and stacked to form a makeshift wall, trees cut for firewood and only bald stumps left. Without magic it would take years for the place to return to its natural balance. Moreover, various offending smells surrounded him from all directions: sweat, blood, smoke, and most of all the irritating clean stench of the aasimar – as if one wasn’t enough there were now hundreds! For a moment anger rose in him once more, tempting him to wreak havoc with his winds but he suppressed it, forcing himself to be patient and bide his time.

When Auryn touched down and he was taken away by the weird, four-armed aasimar, he was amazed to notice that, at least in his eyes, they were even more monstrous than some tieflings. Four arms! Additional limbs attributed only to mythical creatures were as natural to them as his own wings had been and they wore additional swords and special armour, yet no one seemed to care or pay any attention. Was the mere notion of the blessed blood in their veins enough to make them acceptable among humans? Their looks did not matter as long as their heritage was holy? This injustice was almost too terrible to bear and Kharg felt his fists clench. He had no doubts about himself, horns sticking from his head and scales covering the left side of his body from neck to hip – but there were tieflings who’s heritage wasn’t showing as much as his and could pass for a human when dressed. Did that mean they couldn’t coexist with humans because of a notion so unimportant as their blood? He knew he would have his revenge sooner or later. And those responsible with pay with their blood. Dearly.

He was being led to one of the many similar olive tents, only this one was bigger, stood a little to the side and didn’t smell so bad as the others. There was a small banner fluttering on top of it, probably bearing the coat of arms of the general in command of this army. One of the escorting aasimar opened the flap and the other shoved Kharg inside brutally, entering behind him. The interior was dark, lit only by two candles standing on the table but his eyes immediately attuned themselves to a change in lighting. After all, darkness was his ally just like the winds. The table was a simple one, covered in papers and maps, with ink and quill to the side; next to it a chair, both standing on a red, worn-out carpet. To the side a uniform hanger and an armour stand with a slim man polishing the breastplate, his back turned to the guests. The interior wasn’t as richly rurnished as Kharg supposed it would be, apart from a simple bed and the table and chair there were no luxuries to be seen.

“General Taruk orders this demonkin interrogated, sergeant!” one of the aasimar sang in a clear voice that reminded Kharg of running water.

The man polishing the general’s armour stopped and turned slowly, his eyes squinting to see who had come in. He was young, perhaps nineteen, slim, almost gaunt but when his eyes rested on Kharg and acknowledged his presence, some new energy filled his person and he straightened up, approaching briskly.

“Very well, private. I shall prepare the protocol right…” he stopped in mid-sentence and took a closer look at Kharg who was now meeting his gaze, recognition slowly worming its way into his memory, his own eyes widening in surprise. “You two, wait outside, don’t let anyone save the general in!”

“Yes, sir!” the two aasimar behind Kharg saluted and left the tent.

“So, I have you in my hands finally, Kharg Wyrmblood!” the sergeant cried, his bored, peaceful expression contorted into a mask of madness.

“Den!” Kharg rumbled, finally realising who was standing before him. “What are you…”

“Silence, you monster! You have no idea how long I have been waiting for this moment! I swore that I would torment and kill every tiefling that falls into my hands until I finally get my hands on you! You have no idea how long I have prayed to Granas to spare your life in battle only so that I could kill you myself!” Den laughed maniacally. “And now you just appear before me out of thin air. Oh, this is too good to be true! Are you even real or is it my eyes that are deceiving me?” He swung his fist, catching Kharg on the jaw, making him stumble. It was incredible that this small man possessed such strength. “Oh, you are real, alright! I’m going to enjoy this, you MURDERER!”

“Let me…” Kharg began but another blow to his face shut his mouth.

“No more twisted, vile words, lies, false promises out of you. I’ll make sure you don’t live to hurt any human again.”

In a deranged fury sergeant Den started pounding on Kharg with his fists and legs, quickly throwing him to the ground and continuing the crazy, hatred-filled beating, foaming at the mouth and screaming incoherent threats and curses. Kharg knew he could snap the kid’s neck like a twig any time he wanted but he couldn’t bear to raise his hands against the small, gentle Den he remembered, the timid, shy boy who would always hide in a closet whenever Kharg would pay a visit to his home. He didn’t even defend himself, once again overwhelmed by sadness and despair, and let himself be beaten up in unconsciousness, not really registering the pain.

 

[nova4u]

Auryn

As they walked to her newly assigned quarters, Auryn looked closely at her surroundings. Much had changed in just the few days she was gone; it almost seemed as if the camp was even more crowded than usual. Strange, for the high number of fatalities in the forest she thought for sure there would be a smaller detachment stationed here. It was then that she realized that this base camp was no longer exclusive to aasimars; humans had taken up residence here as well, training with and right along side the aasimar warriors.

There was an awkward silence between Auryn and Captain Crone Stormblade. He stopped before the entrance to one of the tents, not far from General Taruk’s, and lifted the flap. “Your quarters, milady,” he said casually, bowing deeply at the waist. Auryn entered and lit a few candles to examine the “room”. It was not much different from her quarters the last time she was here; a cot, candles, table with washbasin and cloth, chair, dry dirt floor and an armor stand at the foot of the bed. It was cramped, to say the least, but looking around she realized a severe need to take care of herself. She had been in her armor for days, and though the craftsmanship made it almost like a second skin to her, she felt dirty and worn to the bone. Her armor showed it too, with dried blood and mud dulling the polished steel and bright gold engravings; it was profound evidence of the battle.

She began the removal of her armor, forgetting for a brief moment she was not alone. Only a few buckles and straps had been loosened, when she felt his warm breath stirring the stray wisps of hair on her neck just below the ear. She froze, then heard his deep, whispering voice, “Let me help you with that.” His breath still at her neck, he moved closer; his fingers moved to undo more of the cumbersome buckles holding the armor tightly to her body.

“Crone…” Auryn tried to protest, pushing his hands away feebly. She suddenly felt weak in his arms, so warm and inviting; it had been so long…too long. She found herself leaning into him, her hands on his but unconsciously helping rather than hindering his ministrations. Slowly, piece by piece her armor was laid aside. A protective cotton covering, sleeveless with a deep curved neckline, was laced tightly to the well-toned curves of her upper body. What remained of her lower armor was merely a short, pleated, brown leather skirt, finished at the edges with steel rivets.

He stepped back and simply stared at her, his white-gold eyes taking in her beauty. As a warrior she had earned her share of wounds, but her powers of healing had wiped away any trace of scarring. She was 24 years old, but she had the pale, flawless, skin of a child, and a faint glow of radiance, evidence of her unique heritage. At 5’ 7”, her frame was slender but muscular, with her powerful wings now a picture of grace folded lightly along her back and draping to the floor. Her hair was a long, thick, wild mane of white with streaks of shimmering gold throughout, and her piercing blue eyes and full, deep red rose lips completed the image.

Auryn gazed back at him and nearly trembled as he removed his shirt, remembering the comfort and pleasure she received from him those many nights, wrapped in his strong arms and pressed closely to his chest. Crone sat on the edge of the cot and drew her to him once more, pulling the laces at her chest one by one until the garment fell open, exposing her firm, supple breasts. Again he stared, admiring their beauty first with his eyes, then tracing the round curves lightly with his fingers. Auryn gasped at his touch, so soft yet able to elicit so powerful a response within her as his fingers ran feather-light over her nipples. He grabbed each of her full breasts, kneading and massaging, causing her to moan slightly. She closed her eyes and relished the sensations flowing through her.

But something wasn’t right…

A sound…an argument…fighting? Auryn held Crone’s hands still, listening again…yes, fighting…and now screaming?

“I’m sorry…” Auryn began, but no sooner had the words left her mouth then a voice came from outside the tent.

“Captain Stormblade, General Taruk requires you immediately!” said one of the guards.

Crone stood, quickly donning his shirt and making himself presentable. He turned to Auryn and said quietly, “I will return the moment I am able, my dear…we have much to discuss…”, glancing once more at her bosom. He placed one hand behind her neck and kissed her full lips hard and passionately, leaving her breathless as he quickly exited the tent.

Auryn did her laces once more up her front, then sat slowly down on the cot, listening to what was now an obvious beating continue. Yes, we do have much to discuss she thought.

 

[Poganin]

Kharg

When Kharg came to he was sitting at the central pole supporting the roof of the general’s tent with his hands bound behind it. As his vision cleared he noticed that someone had taken his armour off when he was unconscious and the blood that ran from his mouth and nose trickled to his chest, burning his skin, causing him additional pain. His face and body hurt all over from the frantic, severe beating Den had applied to him. He had no idea that such a small and frail body could contain so terrible a strength and fury. Blinking the blurry vision away he raised his head and tried to see what was going on around him. Two men were standing and talking at the tent entrance, or actually a man and an aasimar. The human was older, his hair starting show strands of greyness but he stood with a straight back and arms crossed. Kharg deduced it was probably the general Taruk. The other person, the tall and definitely strong, winged aasimar was talking in a hushed but definite, or perhaps demanding, tone. He noticed that the tiefling prisoner was conscious again and nodded in his direction.

“It’s finally awake, general. We can question it now,” the aasimar said and crossed the carpeted floor towards Kharg and kicked him in the ribs. The tiefling withheld a grunt of pain and merely exhaled through his nose, containing his fury.

“Peace, captain. We don’t want to damage him before we get what we want, now do we?” Taruk turned and said with an edge in his voice.

“That’s right, angelwings. Heed your human master like a good dog,” Kharg croaked and spat on the carpet next to Stormblade’s boot, a small wisp of smoke rose from the singed fabric.

“Hold!” General snapped, stopping the captain from kicking the prisoner again. “I’m warning you, tiefling, not to push it. Captain Stormblade can be terrible when angered. Also, please excuse the treatment you have suffered at the hands of my aide-de-camp, apparently someone dear to him was killed by your kind and he’s a vengeful lad. We don’t torment our prisoners needlessly.”

“No, you just crucify and burn them,” Kharg replied, wincing when a bruise on his lip opened and a fresh trickle of burning blood flowed down his chin. He recalled the battlefields of the Windalf Meadow and Twin Rivers where hundreds of tieflings had brutally been tortured after a lost battle. From above it looked like a forest of stakes and crosses, each with a mutilated body bound to it.

“And a suitable fate for vermin, if I do say so myself,” Stormblade added with a spiteful sneer. “All of your kind should be wiped clean from the face of Ragnos so that pure creatures can enjoy it without threat from your ill-bred scum.”

Kharg said nothing not because he was afraid of the tall aasimar but because he saw in him the same blind adherence to human propaganda Auryn had displayed earlier. Discussion or argumentation were futile and he needed strength to escape during the night. He was bruised and battered enough already and did not need broken ribs or limbs and from the fanatical words of the captain he knew that the general’s word might not be enough to stop him.

“Captain, this is supposed to be an interrogation and not a court-martial. First of all, tiefling, your name and rank for the protocol…”

Kharg only snorted and chuckled, hearing Taruk’s demand and met his hard gaze with his own red orbs, now brightly burning in the dimly lit tent. If they thought that his will could so easily be bent they were sorely mistaken. Perhaps he didn’t have all the training necessary for a soldier but life in the wild and constant struggle made the tieflings a hard people and Kharg was no exception. He knew he could withstand initial torture if they resorted to it but if luck permitted by daybreak he would be out of this camp and deep in the nearby forest.

“Very well,” general Taruk sighed. “Tell me then, what do you know about the events at Baddon Hill and the disappearance of the alliance army?”

Once again he refused to answer, looking to the side and clenching his jaw in defiance and promising himself he would reveal no information to them, no matter how small and insignificant.

“General, give him to my men for a while. He will tell us everything we want to know afterwards.”

“He is defiant but hunger and thirst have broken many. We shall test his resolve. Guards!” Taruk called and two of his personal bodyguards entered the tent and snapped at attention. “Take the prisoner away. No food or water for him overnight and watch him closely.”

The soldiers acknowledged and with a few deft motions the rope binding Kharg’s wrists was undone and he was being unceremoniously pulled outside towards uncertain fate.

 

[nova4u]

Auryn

The cool, damp cloth felt wonderful against her skin as Auryn drew it across her body, washing away the dirt and grime, occasionally dipping it in the washbasin to rinse and cleanse again. Her thoughts took her back several years to when she and Crone first met in an aasimar training camp. There was an instant attraction, but they were frequently assigned different duties and training missions. Over time, their romance blossomed as they found ways to be with one another, eating meals together, sneaking off at night to each other’s quarters and other rendezvous.

She dried and recalled when the hurt began, as their military careers took different paths, hers as a dynamic warrior and his in political leadership, quickly working his way into command. There came a point when he oversaw her aerial squadron; by day, he would criticize and belittle her decisions and actions, many times in front of her troops, and by night, he spoke words of kindness and passionate love, filling her with pleasure again and again. She loved him, plain and simple…but with that love came pain and humiliation; the hurt became too great. Just when she was ready to sever their bond, Crone was given a higher rank and reassigned to another camp, gone the next day. Auryn had been relieved that she had never had to break up with him, fearing his anger in return, but now she realized that in his mind, their relationship never ended, and she belonged to him once again.

She donned her uniform, preparing herself for dinner with General Taruk. Auryn always respected Taruk; he had a long, upstanding military career, and was quite civil as far as humans were concerned. He was the type of man who preferred peaceful resolutions whenever possible, and would only resort to violence when necessary, as it often was in times of war.

Finally dressed, she smoothed over her uniform and brushed her hair back one more time. The alliance uniforms were made from a solid, pale grey, crisp cloth; brass buttons ran down the front of the coat. A deep blue sash draped from her left shoulder to tie at her right hip, the color an indicator of her rank as First Lieutenant. The sash was decorated with marks of honor and bravery, as well as her various fields of expertise. At her waist was a double-wrapped sword belt, fashioned from heavy leather with brass rivets and a buckle. It evenly distributed the weight of her sword and scabbard across both hips, making it comfortable and preventing the belt from sagging. Her sword and scabbard hung at her left hip, her dagger hidden in its sheath, strapped to her leg under the uniform. No matter what the circumstances, a smart warrior would never leave their weapons unattended, so they accompanied her to the General’s quarters.

It was a short walk, and as she neared mouth-watering aromas filled the air. The guard was expecting her and motioned for her to wait outside while he announced her arrival. A moment later the guard came out of the tent, holding the flap open. “The General will see you now.”

Taruk turned as she entered. “Lieutenant, please, come, be seated; the meal has just been prepared,” he said, motioning towards the covered trays on the table. “I see you have had a chance to revive yourself a bit.” They took their seats and removed the lids from their steaming trays. The meal was simple and full of flavor; roast beef, carrots, potatoes and bread. Nevertheless it was fortifying, giving them strength should the need to fight arise unexpectedly. Auryn had not realized how hungry she was until now, and had to pace herself as she ate.

“So, tell me what the past days have held for you, Auryn. I still expect a formal report by morning, but for now let us dispense with the formalities. Tell me of the battle, and how you came across this prisoner of ours.”

Auryn forced herself to relax, took a deep breath, and recounted her story as they ate the remainder of their food, step by step from the battle to their arrival at the base camp. She was uncertain, though, of many things she had seen and done. “I apologize for my lack of information, sir. I am afraid I cannot be of much help in determining what happened to the armies, or what caused the scorched circle. I am not even certain why I did not meet the same fate as my comrades, why I am here and they are not.”

“You have done well Auryn; do not be concerned with your understanding of the events that took place. The information you have provided will be of great assistance to the cause,” he said, rising from his chair. “You will be given recognition deserving of your achievements, rest assured.” She stood, thanking him for the meal and for his encouragement, then took her leave and exited the tent.

Darkness had fallen upon the camp, and all was silent save the occasional hushed voice from nearby tents; a few lanterns here and there led her back to her quarters. She went inside, and fumbled for a few moments with a candle in the dark until it was lit, casting a soft glow against the shadows. Auryn turned, then gasped and nearly dropped the candle to the ground for there waiting for her on the cot was Crone. He stood and took the candle from her hand, placing it on the table. He embraced her in his arms and folded his wings gently around the two of them, pulling her close and pressing his lips to hers before she could protest. Auryn almost gave in, feeling the warmth of his body close to hers; but instead gathered her resolve and broke the kiss, stepping back from him.

Crone stared with a puzzled look on his face, then stepped toward her, only to find her backing away once more. “Auryn, is there something wrong?”

“We need to talk, Crone. Things have changed.” Auryn watched him closely, judging his reactions as she told him her view of their relationship, including her assumption that the relationship had ended, and needed to stay that way.

“You really think we are through, Auryn?” Crone laughed. “I love you, and you are mine, my dear. That is simply how it is, and nothing will change that. As far as my ‘treatment’ of you in training or in the field, I only do that because I know you can do better. And I know that if you love me, you will obey me.”

“I’m sorry, but this has to end. I can’t do this anymore…Crone!” Auryn saw the flash of anger in his eyes before she even finished her statement, and quickly dodged out of the way as his fist slammed on the table beside her.

“Hear me well, Auryn,” he said through gritted teeth. “I will not allow this to happen. You will regret what you have said thus far, and would be wise to stop talking such nonsense and ask for my forgiveness before I begin to lose my temper.”

Begin to lose it? she thought incredulously. “Leave now Crone.” Auryn said, swiftly drawing her sword; he was unarmed, and cold, sharp steel was not something with which he would argue.

He immediately backed away, arms up, rage filling his face. “How dare you?! You will pay for this, more than you realize!” With that he stormed out of the tent, muttering obscenities as he went. Auryn sheathed her sword, shaking her head; she knew there would be trouble.

 

[Poganin]

Kharg

He was taken to another tent, one that reeked of sweat and blood and fear, and Kharg soon realised it was the interrogation tent proper, where prisoners were regularly tortured for information. From the amount of smells attacking his nostrils he deduced that this camp had been located in the forest for quite a while. Much blood had soaked in the soil and there was much pain and agony in the air too, the stench and atmosphere in the tent made him nauseous and for a moment he wanted to tell the guards outside to take him somewhere else but abandoned the thought quickly. From what he knew, this tent was quite close to the camp perimeter, which was understandable, hardly anyone would want to constantly listen to the screams of the tortured and shouts of the interrogators. There were a few cages made of steel, rusted where hundreds of prisoners’ hands gripped the bars in hope of release. Kharg shuddered, realising that some of them were magically shielded to cut the prisoner off from the source of their power.

The tent itself was relatively big, some six yards by four with a single support pole in the middle that had several chains tied to it. A strange thought was born in Kharg’s head. They neither chained him to prevent his escape nor put him in a cage to make sure he would not run away. The two guards outside were now talking leisurely after having shoved him inside with a curse and a remark regarding his parents. Apart from that the security was very lax and he wondered whether they were giving him the opportunity to run away only to have him lead them to his kind. Whatever the reasons, Kharg knew he had to escape to prevent his death and to warn the tieflings that there was an alliance army in the forest. And he had to escape tonight as well.

Already he could feel the night approaching in his bones and blood. His whole being was singing a laud to the dark, his senses sharpening even more. Kharg’s eyes naturally accustomed themselves to darkness and his sense of smell was normally very acute but when dusk came he was becoming a complete creature of the night and his ears became sensitive to the extent that he was able to pinpoint the location of every soldier in the camp. Breathing, footsteps, voices, clinking weapons and armour, creaking leather and beds, snoring people. In a few minutes he knew more about his immediate surroundings than he ever would from hours of observation. He let his senses extend even farther, struggling against the noise of the camp to locate general Taruk’s tent and eavesdrop on the conversation there. Sitting down at the post he closed his eyes and listened.

“…will want him to answer for the loss of the whole army, general. He must be executed and he must suffer. The soldiers’ demand for revenge must be sated or we can expect a revolt. Already the morale is dropping.” It was Stormblade speaking. He was trying hard to sound patient but Kharg wasn’t fooled, that aasimar seethed with barely controlled fury and hatred for the tieflings.

“Captain, are you trying to dictate me how I should be running my army?” Taruk asked.

“No, sir, of course not, please excuse…”

“Then please stick to your duties as I stick to mine. That tiefling, whatever his name is…”

“Kharg, general, Kharg Wyrmblood,” Den interrupted.

There was the slightest pause before Taruk spoke again “…he will be dealt with when the time comes, and no sooner. Do I make myself clear, captain?”

“Yes, sir. But with all due respect, you aren’t as close to the common soldiers as I am…”

“That’s where you are wrong, captain. It is the trait of a perfect leader to know his troops. I think I know more about my soldiers than you ever will. Now please leave me. I am expecting a guest. Den, is everything ready?”

“Yes, general.”

Kharg was torn between eavesdropping on the general and Den, who would definitely be questioned about his knowledge of Kharg’s name and following Stormblade’s footsteps. A gut feeling was telling him that the aasimar captain wouldn’t let the matter slide and the tiefling would be having night visitors and they would not be in the mood for games. He had to plan for his escape, though, and with regret he retracted his aural probe to the nearest vicinity, listening to the guards’ and soldiers’ movements, trying to find a relatively unguarded spot to slip through and into the forest. He noticed that there was only one guard at the entrance to the tent now and he searched for the characteristic breathing pattern of the other one… There he was, pacing slowly around the tent as if making sure that Kharg wouldn’t crawl out under the canvas. Once again the tiefling let he hearing roam the camp’s perimeter in search for a weak spot and soon he found it near where he thought he remembered seeing the boreholes. The sentry was moving slowly and his slow breathing indicated that he was on the verge of falling asleep.

Trying not to make too much noise Kharg slowly slid a hand under his kilt, sneering at the stupid soldiers who hadn’t even searched him, apart from removing his armour. There, next to his crotch, was a small knife strapped to his thigh. Slowly he removed the blade from its sheath and brought it to his eyes, checking the sharpness out of habit. Carefully he crawled towards the wall opposite from the entrance and waiting for the guard to pass he grabbed the canvas next to a pleat and delicately plunged the knife into it, piercing the fabric close to the ground. Retracting the blade he waited for the guard to pass again, all the time scanning his surroundings with his ears, and started slowly sawing upwards, making an opening to squeeze through. There was a fire burning nearby but the light was casting a shade on the spot he was cutting so without closer inspection no one would notice the slit.

He was working patiently without pushing his luck and waited for the guard to pass before continuing his work. When he was satisfied with the length of the opening he put the knife between his teeth and calmed himself with a few deep breaths, at the same time making sure there were no soldiers around other than the guards who could notice his escape. There were three at the fire but blinded by the flames they wouldn’t see farther than a few yards. Deciding to make a break for it after the next pass of the guard he waited for the footsteps to move to the front of the tent entrance and wormed his way through the opening he had cut and immediately crawled on all fours towards the nearest dark spot next to the wall of another tent.

Immediately he felt the surrounding darkness almost clinging to him, enveloping him like a tailored mantle, shielding him from prying eyes. This darkness was moving through him and around him, finding his inner darkness friendly. Unseen by anyone, Kharg started crawling towards the perimeter, guided by the unmistakable stench of excrements wafting towards him from the boreholes. All the way he was praying to Valmar that his escape remain unnoticed for as long as possible.

 

[nova4u]

Auryn

Very soon, Auryn realized she had made a terrible mistake; she had forgotten that not only was Crone her former love, he was her senior officer, and she had just drawn a weapon against him. She had to go back to Taruk and explain things before Crone got to him. Auryn left her tent and re-traced her steps to the General’s tent, but came across the back of the tent first and stopped short. Voices inside… Crone! He was already there, and the conversation was heated. Though it appeared no one was around save the guard at the entrance, Auryn stepped into the shadows and crouched low, listening intently.

“She is not with us, General; of that I can be certain. Why, only a moment ago as I stopped by her tent to give her orders for tomorrow; she refused to obey my commands, even went so far as to draw her sword against me, her unarmed senior officer!”

“Uncharacteristic behavior for Glidewynd, but I do have to admit, I am not surprised. Though she has told me much of the battle and her journey, it is obvious she is withholding information regarding the disappearance of the rest of the army. Her heart still beating in her chest is proof enough that she is somehow involved.”

“May I also suggest, sir, that her ‘involvement’ may extend far beyond these most recent events? It is entirely possible that she has become sympathetic to the demon army and their cause. Who knows how long this has been happening, and how much intelligence she has revealed.” There was a moment of silence before Crone spoke again, “We cannot trust her General. She must be interrogated and made an example of, alongside her tiefling friend.”

“We are of the same mind regarding this matter, Captain. Go; have your men take measures to get the information out of her…quickly. Report back and notify me the moment she starts talking.”

“Yes, sir; I will see to the interrogation personally.”

Auryn heard the flap to the tent open, and cautiously taking a quick look saw Crone walking purposefully in the direction of the guards’ headquarters. It only took a moment before she made her decision; she had to get away, and quickly, before the guards came to collect her.

She hurriedly made her way back to her quarters, trying to be as silent as possible, though it seemed her heart was pounding loud enough for the whole camp to hear. Only a few things to collect, she thought, gathering the essentials. She swung a long, bright blue cloak over her shoulders, fastening the silver collar in front with a strange amulet; it was circular, about half the size of the palm of her hand, and looked like a polished mirror with an unusual shimmer across the surface. All of her weapons were still with her, and she glanced over at her armor on the stand, hesitating. Though she was considerably able to heal herself and others, healing would not prevent death should sword or arrow rip through her chest. Could she wrap the armor in a heavy blanket to muffle the noise during her escape? What was that? Footsteps! Many footsteps, still far off, but headed in her direction. The choice had been made for her; there was no time for the armor, and reluctantly she dashed out of her tent into the shadows.

Auryn clasped the amulet between the palms of her hands and whispered a barely audible incantation. Her hands began to fade away, almost blurred from sight, and the amulet’s powers flowed from there, spreading to the rest of her body in a matter of seconds. When it was done, she released the precious amulet and walked out to the main path, looking at the guards marching her way. Had they known what to look for, they would have seen a slight shimmer in the darkness, the only evidence of her presence. And had they looked behind them, they would have clearly seen an exact replica of Auryn in her uniform and cloak, staring right at them; a decoy. As Auryn turned, her mirror image turned as well, and they walked in opposite directions. The illusion of her reflection would not take long to detect, especially if they tried to run it through with a sword, meeting the empty air; upon that moment the illusion of the mirror would vanish, as would Auryn’s nearly invisible disguise.

Sudden shouts broke the silence of the night from the direction of her tent, telling Auryn it was time to fly. She was in the air in an instant, flying with an ever-increasing speed to the safe cover of the forest; other flyers would be quick to bring her down from the air in the imminent pursuit. More shouting, and Auryn stole a quick glance over her shoulder to see soldiers taking to the air after her decoy.

The chase had begun.

 

[Poganin]

Kharg

Crawling slowly in the darkness and the shadows, Kharg felt how the night was slowly seeping into him, waking up the nocturnal nature of his blood and (un?)holy heritage. Already he could feel the bruises Den had caused healing as well as the burns on his chest. The wetness of dew against his skin was promising a clear, starry night and a sunny day to follow which wasn’t exactly to his liking but had a few ideas of how to throw the possible chase away. Kharg scolded himself silently for planning so far ahead when he was still inside the alliance camp, the moment of his escape, however, was very close at hand and now he was only perhaps a dozen yards away from the guard patrolling the boreholes’ area. Weird that anyone should try and protect their own shit from being stolen, he thought and had to stop himself from chuckling. The stench in the area was almost unbearable which suited him just fine, since his own scent would be lost in it. He had to take care of masking his body as much from the eyes as from noses but it had to wait a little longer.

The guard just reached the end of his patrol route merely a few feet from Kharg and the tiefling had to narrow his eyes to thin slits so that the red glow of his eyes doesn’t betray his location. He held his breath until the guard yawned and turned and then slowly exhaled and took the dagger handle in his hand once more, releasing the grip of his teeth on the blade. He had no regrets about what he was about to do even though the patrolling man was still practically a boy in his late teens. Silently he crept behind him and stabbed the unsuspecting victim deep in the throat, covering his mouth with the free hand to prevent the guard from screaming. Quickly Kharg removed the knife from the wound and closed his mouth around it, feeling the hot, salty blood trickle on his tongue and down his throat. Immediately he felt stronger, life of another sustaining him, warming him up from inside and he sucked every drop, not letting any of it go to waste by being spilled. So young a blood was a real treat and Kharg considered it a delicacy but he had no time for pleasantries. Sated, he twisted the soldier’s neck and searched his lifeless body. He decided that the spear would be useless to him and decided to take the short sword only. Armour would only slow him down and make noise but the thick cotton vest the soldier had on him would do to keep the chills away. Satisfied, Kharg threw the corpse into one of the holes, drowning the body in excrements. No one should find it and his victim would be considered a deserter. Smirking to himself, the tiefling disappeared in the forest.

He barely made a few steps when behind him all hell broke loose – he heard shouts and calls and then the alarm bell being sounded. They must have realised he had escaped! Kharg had only a few seconds to decide what to do and straining his ears to hear better he quickly stripped his kilt and the newly-acquired vest, ripped two handfuls of moss from the ground and started rubbing it all over his body, camouflaging his skin with soil and his bodily scents with the natural smells of the forest. Satisfied he donned his clothes back and buckled the belt diagonally across his chest so that the sword hilt stuck over his right shoulder, ready to be quickly drawn. Meanwhile the ruckus in the camp behind him was increasing but Kharg decided not to lose any more time trying to hear which way the chase was being sent. A quick look around helped him orient himself and he trotted west, keeping close to the trees and staying out of brighter splotches where the moonlight shined through the canopy overhead.

His greatest regret was that he didn’t have his wings anymore and he couldn’t take off in the air and escape faster and farther. No human lapdog of a winged aasimar would ever catch up with him once airborne. With his own ability of flight and the help of the winds he had at his beck and call there was no chance of anyone catching him. He wasn’t called a Windmaster for nothing, his control over the element of Air was one of the reasons he had been made captain of his own squadron when the tiefling army was being formed. Only now all of his men were dead in the forest of Baddon and he was all alone and wingless. So Kharg had to keep on running and having found a good rhythm, powered by the human’s blood, he knew he could run until morning and his legs would take him far away. He couldn’t hear any sounds of the chase, only the sighs of the air in his ears and the soft sounds of his footsteps on the ground. Night, nature and darkness were his allies here and they would support him, help him. He was grateful for what he was. Now he only had to find an outpost of the tiefling army and pass the news and the intelligence he had gathered. This was the tricky part of his escape.

 

[nova4u]

Auryn

The alarms and shouts from camp became louder, and her visibility would soon be restored as they caught up to her decoy. Auryn made it maybe a mile over the forest and dove down for the cover of the trees. It was time to run, and she was thankful now that the armor had been left behind, giving her the speed she needed to keep up the pace; she preferred avoiding having to fight her own comrades altogether. She spread her wings slightly, and used them as she ran to very nearly glide across the ground instead of pound the forest floor with the sound of her sprinting.

As she ran her mind flooded with thoughts: Crone, General Taruk, the tiefling…in the last few days her world had been turned upside down. She was not surprised at Crone’s reaction to her rather “forceful” breakup with him; not even that he would run to Taruk trying to twist things in his favor. But the General? Auryn had practically idolized the man since the day she met him, and now to hear him accusing her of such things? Auryn was incredulous. And that tiefling…whether he was actively participating or not, had brought her nothing but trouble.

Her very next thought came as a shock as she realized she had no where to run. If she showed her face in an Alliance camp she would be walking to interrogation, torture, and maybe even death, all at the hands of her own army. She stumbled slightly on some loose rocks on the ground, and shook her head to focus on the matter at hand…escape. There was nothing else to do but run, in hopes that distance alone would give her some small advantage. Auryn could feel the adrenaline rushing through her, her heart was racing and she felt she had never run so fast in her life.

This was a strange new emotion to her: panic.

 

[Poganin]

Kharg

As Kharg was running he became distinctly aware of a strange sound accompanying his escape somewhere to the right and a little in front of him. At first he thought it to be the echo of his own footsteps but then realised that they were quite successfully muffled by the moss he was running on and the natural sounds of the forest: wind rustling among the leaves, creaking trees, and nocturnal animals. It wasn’t an echo, it seemed like a twin sound of someone running parallel to him, running swiftly and silently. Was that one of his captors? An aasimar with special tracking and chasing abilities, capable of staying invisible and silent to hunt his prey? Kharg couldn’t see the person who was running and thought that he or she still wasn’t aware of his presence so he turned slightly to run in that person’s wake. He had to slow down a little though and run more carefully, avoiding twigs and patches of bare soil that could betray his chase. He had killed one allied soldier this night, a human; now slaying an aasimar would complement that previous kill nicely. Perhaps he could even gain a trophy. An evil grin lit Kharg’s features up. This night would know blood.

The breathing of the creature he was following was strange, too rapid, almost panicky. He smelled the air, trying to guess the nature of his prey by the scent but he only caught single strands, barely recognisable but he thought he could smell fear in them. But if that person was looking for him, chasing him, why was he or she afraid? No, something was wrong here and Kharg became cautious, slowing down a little more to give himself a moment to think. If it wasn’t a hunter than who? Perhaps another escaped prisoner? And that alarm earlier on hadn’t been for him but for this person who was running ahead, and who was, for some strange reason, completely invisible. He had to be ready for any possibility so his right hand reached behind his right shoulder and gripped the hilt of the sword, drawing it in preparation for defence or attack.

Then a few things happened so quickly they all became blurred in his memory. Suddenly the person ahead became visible, gasping and stumbling slightly and stopping, looking left and right in panic and displaying her most prominent feature – a pair of big, radiant wings that seemed almost blinding in the surrounding darkness. It was an aasimar! For a split second he was completely stunned but then involuntarily he sped up to catch up to her and attack her before she got the chance to turn around and notice his approach. She began turning to face him, though, or perhaps to look behind her, perhaps she heard him running, now that she was still herself. But before she made a complete turn he slammed into her at full speed, tackling her to the ground, making her utter a yelp of surprise and wrestle with him to free herself from the strong grip of his left, scaly hand on her neck. Her wings and arms flailed around, hitting him on the sides, shoulders and face but he did not release his hold, driving his claws harder into the soft skin. Finally somehow he managed to pin her body down, forcing her face into the soft moss and blocking her left wing with his elbow.

“Thought you could catch me and bring me back, huh?” he said, panting from the strenuous run, and pressed the tip of his short sword to the base of her right wing. “Now stop struggling or you’ll need another one-winged angel to fly. Kharg Wyrmblood will make you a cripple until the end of your pathetic days.”

“You!” she spat but he couldn’t recognise whether she meant it as an insult or it was a sound of recognition. Moreover, this voice was strangely familiar to him and before he knew it he released his grip a fraction.

He leaned lower, bringing his face closer the her head and sniffing her hair, the spores flying about tickling his nose, then he sniffed at her skin and he understood why the voice was familiar. It was Auryn lying beneath him – his eyes or ears could be deceived but his nose never. This turn of events was surprising, he had his captor at his mercy and could do to her as he pleased, driving the sword deep into her flesh would kill her on the spot and if it had been Stormblade he had caught he probably would have but apart from bringing him in she had done nothing to hurt him or cause him harm.

“What was it you said, Auryn? I think it was: I have no doubt in my abilities to overtake you should you try to attack,” he mocked her confident tone. “Who’s on top now, hmmm?” Kharg growled next to her ear but quickly changed his tone from mocking to serious. “I suffered no mistreatment at your hand, even though you consider me your enemy, so I won’t hurt you. Make no sudden moves, I won’t hesitate to kill you,” he said slowly and released Auryn, standing up and taking two steps back, sword ready to attack any moment.

 

[nova4u]

Auryn

Auryn quickly scrambled to her feet. “What are you doing here?” she asked, eyes darting to scan the area. She did not wait for his answer. “I must keep going. This is too close; they’ll find me here!”

“They?” Kharg chuckled softly. “What mess has my precious little angelwings gotten herself into, hmm?

“That is none of your concern, but if they find me with you it’ll be worse! I am not here to fight you, but if you delay me much longer I will. Let us continue on our separate paths and be done with each other once and for all.”

“Sounds as if you’ve caused a decent amount of trouble. Where do you plan on running? To another alliance outpost? To hide out in some small town?” Kharg laughed. “I may as well kill you now and spare you the trouble.”

Auryn drew her sword in a flash of light; their swords met with a clash in the air and paused. “This is not the time to test me tiefling!”

Kharg heard it first, then Auryn; a far off sound…heavy footsteps…running, and coming their way. “In case you haven’t noticed, angelwings, they may be after me as well. If we stay together, we may be able to help each other escape by combining our skills and powers. I don’t like it any more than you do, but you must decide now,” Kharg said, glancing in the direction of their pursuers.

She knew he was right. She had no idea what she was doing, and his people were used to being on the run from hers. Auryn lowered her blade carefully, as did Kharg. “Lead the way,” she grumbled.

And so they were off. Auryn followed slightly behind Kharg; he seemed to have a sense of where he was going, even though she had no clue where that might be. For all she knew he may be leading her to her death, but death at the hands of her enemies sounded preferable to death at the hands of her own comrades, for some strange reason. They ran for hours, stopping only to listen for the sound of their followers, sometimes audible, sometimes not, but enough to keep them running through most of the night.

A few hours before dawn, Auryn’s pace began to slow. She stumbled here and there, and Kharg finally slowed to a stop, waiting to speak until they both caught their breath. “You need to rest. Sleep now, and I will keep watch.”

Auryn was shocked at his statement. How could she possibly trust her enemy to keep watch while she slept? The moment she closed her eyes he could run off for his own safety or even kill her while she slept. But again, he was right; she did need rest. When she did sleep she usually needed just a few hours, but now she had been up for nearly two days. That combined with pure adrenaline coursing through her veins all night had more than taken it’s toll on her mind and body. It seemed they would have to learn to trust each other more, at least while they traveled together, and now was the time to start.

She listened intently for a few moments. “I doubt that our pursuers have given or will give up the chase anytime soon. We need to take extra precautions that they would not be able to follow us during the time we have stopped.” She clutched the amulet in her hands once more, whispering now a different incantation, longer, more complicated words of an ancient language long forgotten. Her whispers became more intense, feverish, and her body began to shake as the amulet’s powers were released.

Kharg saw something out of the corner of his eye, and looked to see a thick, solid fog rolling towards them with fantastic speed from all sides. Then as quickly as it came, it stopped, forming a 30-foot circle around them. Auryn collapsed, but his reflexes were quick and he caught her just before she hit the ground.

“It extends 3 miles from us. No one will be able to see through it…except me,” she smiled weakly, then closed her eyes and passed out in his arms.

 

[Poganin]

Kharg

Kharg eased Auryn gently to the ground and covered her with her cloak, bright blue cloak, he thought with dismay. Who in their right mind would don something bright and escape into a forest? At least it served to partially cover her wings which seemed to have a small glow to them. The events of the past few minutes were slowly arranging themselves in his head, her sudden appearance, the struggle and then the fog. Sitting on the ground nearby, Kharg smiled to himself; she seemed to be having some interesting abilities herself: invisibility, causing fog to rise. A worthy adversary, he mused. Then he recalled the amulet she had held in her hand when she was conjuring the milky veil that was now surrounding their resting place and the words she had used. Was it an Artefact? Or merely a focusing item? And the incantation? Activation verse or just a regular spell? He couldn’t understand what Auryn had said very well, catching only a word here and there because she had chanted it in a hushed murmur. He thought he had heard kragch quite clearly and then cylde ap syenvre. And if he had heard it correctly, and he had little doubt in his sense of hearing, those were the words from the Language of the Gods, the language that the deva and the sartan had spoken when they were still present on Ragnos. Kharg didn’t know the language himself but his father had it did sound alike. Curious, he thought to himself while eyeing the fog that was supposed to shield them.

It was extremely thick, so much that he had trouble piercing it with his eyes farther than a feet or two. Combined with the forest’s darkness and the moonlight above, it created an eerie setting. It was behaving like regular fog, shifting slowly, going up and down, twirling, and smothering all sound. Whatever noise the pursuers were making, it was coming to his ears as terribly distant and unnaturally muted. For a moment Kharg considered leaving Auryn and plunging into the fog to hunt those who thought they were hunting him or her but he didn’t want to lose his direction in the thick soup. It was a useful trick and he wondered what the duration of this enchantment was. Would it last until dispelled or perish with the dawn? It looked stable enough but he knew that magical effects had a nasty habit of going awry at the least expected moments. It displayed one strange trait, though. Kharg could not sense any humidity coming from it. It was for the best, too. The high induced by the blood he had drunk earlier would dissipate soon and humidity would only make him feel cold. At least this way he would only suffer the internal withdrawal effects.

As he was scanning his surroundings, his body quickly regaining strength, his eyes finally rested on sleeping Auryn; slow, regular breathing making her frame move slightly. It had only been two days since he met her, or was captured as she would surely put it, but it seemed longer. So much had happened over those two days that it felt like a week and now he was free again and somewhat lost, not knowing where to go to. As his eyes traced her sleeping features he guessed that humans were surely finding her beautiful. Her white-golden hair and intensely blue eyes must have broken many a weak heart, and her pale skin was an image of purity. She was also strong and energetic, just the sort of woman Kharg liked. If only she were a tiefling he would have taken her for his woman. But she was an aasimar, blind to reality and indoctrinated, and enemy to boot. The idea of being with an aasimar was revolting and he wasn’t quite sure why he had offered to join forces with her. It wasn’t clear why she was on the run from her own. Kharg snorted, embarrassed for thinking about her so much when they were in danger of being surprised by the soldiers chasing them. He strained his ears but with the dawn approaching and the sky brightening his senses lost their sharpness.

He noticed Auryn stir and sit up, looking around, panic once again lighting in her eyes as she frantically searched for something. “I’m here,” he said and moved his hand, realising that he could have been invisible to her, unmoving, surrounded by the last vestiges of the night that made him look like yet another shadow. Auryn relaxed a bit but she was still tense, this was an awkward alliance they had agreed to and neither trusted the other fully. He knew that and he didn’t care, he didn’t need her to survive in the forest but for some reason he couldn’t just leave her to stumble around and let herself be caught.

“Are they around?” she asked in a whisper and looked at the wall of fog, peering into it.

“They passed us about an hour ago but I don’t know where they went. This fog of yours made it hard for me to eavesdrop on them. They’re not here, though.” He shrugged and scratched his thigh. He needed a bath but he could smell no water in the vicinity.

“So I see,” she replied coldly and got up, stumbling a little and leaning on a tree.

“Where do you think you’re going dressed like that?” Kharg asked with an amused smile. “If they are still around they’ll spot you in no time.”

Auryn looked down at herself.

“I’m talking about your cloak. It’s too bright and draws attention. Those shinies on your uniform aren’t helping either.”

“What do you propose, tiefling? That I roll in dirt like you obviously did?” she asked sourly, noticing his condition for the first time. In the light he looked terrible, dirty, with black and green smudges on his skin.

“It worked, didn’t it? You looked at me twice when you woke up but you didn’t notice me sitting here,” Kharg answered and waved his hand to make a point. It felt heavy, his whole body felt heavy form the strain of running and stress, but mainly it was due to the blood he had drunk losing its influence on him. “You must cover your wings too, they are too bright and will betray you.”

“Don’t order me around!” Auryn snapped.

“Suit yourself. I’m just trying to help you live through this. Obviously you’ve never been on the run before, having lived in a city, in a cosy house, with servants and lights and silks…”

“What’s your point?”

“I’m saying you should heed the advice of someone who’s been taught in the art of evasion since before he even learned to walk.” With a grunt he got up, supporting himself on the tree, hoping strength would return to him soon.

 

[nova4u]

Auryn

What was wrong with her? As an aasimar she was usually calm, slow to anger, and immune to fear and panic. Now since they met Auryn hardly knew herself anymore, experiencing fear, anger and frustration to degrees she never thought possible.

Still, Kharg’s matter-of-fact tone of voice and words rang true, infuriating Auryn to no end though she tried to hide it. “You have no idea who you are talking to,” she said haughtily. “I have been trained as a warrior nearly all my life, and these “shinies” as you so call them on my uniform represent my every accomplishment, expertise, training and award since joining the aasimar military. I have powers you have not even begun to see, and by the looks of it you barely have enough strength to stand, let alone evade someone or try to teach me anything.”

“If you really have so much expertise and training, you don’t need all that to prove it. The only purpose of shinies is to show off, and they will serve to bring you more attention than you want right now if you don’t get rid of them.” Kharg motioned to the mist surrounding them. “Impressive trick, this fog of yours. How long will it last?”

“We will need to travel through it first. Once we reach the perimeter, the spell will break and the fog will lift. Ususally I can see clearly about one mile deep through the fog, but with the thickness of the forest I'm only able to make out the first hundred yards or so. We will need to hold hands as we make our way so the spell-sight will be passed onto you as well. If you do not hold my hand, we may become separated in the thick mist.” She glanced at his hands, taking quick note of which side of him to stand. There was no way she would hold that grotesque, scaled hand of his; the other hand was so “normal” it could pass for human.

Auryn peered into the fog, turning to see all around them. She saw followers in the east, only three aasimar foot soldiers had dared enter the fog; they blindly struggled their way along, swords drawn and hacking away at miscellaneous bushes and branches that got in their way. However, even with no sense of direction they were still moving closer, slowly but surely. “We must go now,” she said, explaining to Kharg what she saw.

She watched Kharg let out a heavy, tired sigh and step towards her, stumbling a little. “You need water and rest. I can smell water in that direction, and it sounds like a stream of some sort.” She took his hand and pointed. Kharg’s eyes grew wide as suddenly a portion of the fog became “invisible”. His senses could now penetrate as far as hers through the fog, and when he turned he could see the aasimars traveling their way. Kharg even surprised himself a little, not being quite so repulsed as he thought he would be holding her hand. They turned and began walking toward the sounds of running water.

“I think its rather obvious why they are after me, but why are your comrades after you Auryn? Why are you on the run?”

“It’s complicated,” she sighed, then went on to relate what had transpired since their arrival in camp. “They think I’ve been working with you! Can you believe that?”

“Well, in a sense we are now, at least for the time being…” Kharg paused, eyeing the precious metal at her neck. “Tell me more of this amulet of yours.”

Auryn thought long and hard before answering him. “Why should I tell you anything? I’ve already told you probably more than you need to know.”

They continued to walk in silence, periodically glancing back to see if their pursuers were still in view. The followers no longer were, and could not be heard by either Kharg or Auryn even with their sharp hearing. Finally they reached a small clearing, and flowing right through the center was a small stream, varying from a few inches to nearly a foot deep of fast running, crystal clear water. Both of them drank their fill of the fresh cool water before sitting to rest a bit more.

“It was a gift from my mother,” Auryn said quietly.

“What was?” Kharg said, seemingly distracted.

“The amulet. I just caught you staring at it again. Originally it was a gift from the original aasimon mother in my bloodline to her aasimar daughter; it has been passed down every generation since. It’s powers only manifest themselves for female members of my bloodline, and even then the user must know the proper languages and spells, which are only passed down with the amulet.” Auryn paused to look him directly in his eyes. “I tell you all of this for one reason: the cloak which you would have me so carelessly discard is a part of the gift as well. It is centuries old, though never wears through, impervious to tears, cuts and other damage; it serves both as protection and cover. It also is used in conjunction with some of the spells cast through the amulet. I will not part with it, though with the situation upon us I will consider any suggestions you may have for ‘evading’ our would be captors.”