Acadian: We are finally getting to the start of the start, so to speak, with the Seven being drawn together.
haute ecole rider: One thing I like about classic westerns is that while their protagonists were not perfect, there was never any ambiguity about their actions. They fought the good fight, and their opponents were always those fighting the bad one. Likewise, samurai movies always had an epic feel, even if it was just seven samurai taking on a band of thugs for the sake of some farmers.
I work hard to not only create vivid characters, but also a vivid landscape for them to play their roles out upon. The hadrosaurs, the food stands, mages working as ship's navigators, etc... When I am reading books or watching tv and movies, the more real the world feels, the more I care about the people in it. That is what I always like about Marvel comics using real settings like New York, over DC's made up ones like Metropolis, Central City, or Midway City, etc.. The made up ones just don't feel real. Only Gotham has come to seem like a real place to me, because of how long it has been around and how consistently it has been portrayed.
Chapter 5.2The Light Elf led the Agrigentans across the city. They paused at a three-way intersection. To their right a wide boulevard led to large square. Beyond that rose a great palace of white marble, topped by a huge dome of what appeared to shining gold in its center. Smaller domes of bronze rose from each corner of the palace. The pennant of the city flew from a staff rising atop each: a crowned man riding a dolphin, holding a spear in one hand, and a shield in the other.
Ranazu whistled. "Who lives there?"
"No one," Loria said.
"People call it the Font of Gold," Aela explained. "The Captain's Council meets there, to argue about how they run the city."
"I thought the
zilath ruled over Veia?" the old Teodon Hyunsu wondered aloud.
"He is just an executive appointed by the council," Loria said. "He oversees all the day to day affairs that keep the city running. Collecting taxes and customs duties, commanding the army, and so on. He has that castle overlooking the Spout at the western tip of the city. But in the end he is just the council's errand boy. The real power in Veia lies in the Font."
In spite of what the Light Elf said, he turned away from the palace, and led them in the opposite direction. He stayed on the same street through several more intersections, and finally the avenue became lined with armor and weapon smiths, and the faint sound of metal dinging against metal wafted from the buildings and into Aela's ears.
They passed the White Company's compound, marked by a banner of a white horse against a blue background. The area looked nearly deserted, with only a few women hanging up laundry and children playing in evidence. Aela imagined that the mercenary company itself must be in Felathri, fighting in that war Loria had mentioned earlier.
"I do not see any taverns," the human farmer Ranazu noted.
"All in good time," Loria smiled. "First we shall make our rounds with the armorers and weaponsmiths. They may know of good hands looking for work."
They were approaching their third shop when the glass window that fronted the armorer exploded out in a shower of jagged shards. Bursting through the opening were two humans wrapped in a violent embrace. One was a dark-haired young Rasen clad in velvet and silk, a sword clenched in his hand. The other was a white-haired woman in pale linen, who appeared to be unarmed.
It was the same white-haired woman they had seen at the Camna estate!
Aela leaped back along with the others, to give the two room in the street. So too did the other passersby. Traffic halted in the street, as everyone stopped to stare.
The pair hit the ground and rolled to a halt in the street. White-Hair sprang instantly to her feet. She whipped the gray cape from her shoulders and passed it between her hands, twisting it into a cord. The Rasen man rose more slowly, and Aela saw that he possessed a neatly trimmed beard. His eyes flashed with anger as he leveled his gold-hilted sword at the pale woman. Bared and in its full glory, the fine sword practically trumpeted the name Princely Gift at Aela.
"Justice will be done upon you assassin!" he cried.
Without another word he lunged forward and stabbed at the woman. She neatly side-stepped, and threw her cloak around his wrist. Catching the free end, she wound it tighter, trapping the Rasen's sword arm. Twisting his arm up and around, she effortlessly flipped him across her back and down to the paving stones below. The sword clattered from his nerveless fingers, and she bent to pick it up by the blade with one hand, releasing his wrist from her cloak in the process.
Now armed men came boiling out of the shop after them. All wore green leather vests emblazoned with a white stag's head, and long-sleeved mail hauberks underneath. They gripped straight, double-edged swords of the Skanjr type, and carried green and white shields.
"Oathmen of House Camna," Loria murmured. Aela too, recognized the distinctive livery from their recent business with Lord Serves Camna. But she had little time to consider what that might mean, as the warriors charged upon the mysterious white-haired woman.
A red-haired Skanjr burst through the window, while two Rasen charged through the front door in single-file. White-Hair threw her cape at the face of the first man through the door. He ducked to avoid the missile. But the man behind him literally never saw it coming, and staggered blindly as the cloth wrapped about his face.
Then the Skanjr who had leaped through the window was upon White-Hair. He stabbed with his sword, and she used Princely Gift to deflect it to one side. Rather than gripping the sword by the hilt, she still held the purloined weapon by the blade, point to the ground. With the Skanjr's blade swept toward his shield side, she stepped in closer. Her flatted palm jammed into the side of his armored head, followed by the pommel Princely Gift, which crashed into his face. The nasal of his spangenhelm saved his nose from ruination. But he still ended up flying backward onto the pavement. Now Aela noted that White-Hair had slyly inserted a foot behind his ankle, which the warrior had tripped over.
Now the first oathman through of the door was upon her. She effortlessly parried his sword stroke with Princely Gift. Again, she moved chest to chest with the Rasen, grabbing his sword wrist with her free hand. Her right leg swept out and caught his own right ankle, and toppled him to the ground. A quick kick to the head followed, and Aela winced involuntarily. One of the plates from his spangenhelm burst completely from its rivets and clattered away down the street, dented almost beyond recognition.
By now the third oathman had freed himself of White-Hair's cloak. He was upon her before she could dodge, and slammed his shield directly into her unarmored face. Aela saw her nose buckle under the impact, but otherwise her head barely moved.
White-Hair smiled, and her eyes glowed silver-white, like stars on a clear night. Aela shivered as a wave of ice seemed to wash over her body. Then White-Hair grabbed the top rim of the Rasen's shield and yanked it - and him - closer. At the same time she leaned into him, and smashed her bare forehead into his armored one.
That should have been a foregone conclusion. But it was the armored man who fell limply to the pavement.
There was clearly much more to this woman than met the eye. Or the mundane eye at least. Aela shifted her senses to the aether, and closely studied the mystery woman's aura. Like at the Camna estate, it shone with the bright light of a magical adept. But other than that, she appeared completely normal. Except of course for that glacial coldness, that nearly chilled Aela to the bone.
Now Aela noticed that even though White-Hair was exerting herself to the utmost, the threads of power that governed her body appeared calm and at rest. For example, there were no signs of faster breathing or heartbeats, nor even of sweat. Aela searched for the web of magical fibers that governed the woman's shattered nose, yet found nothing in them out of place.
"She's cloaking her aura!" Loria whispered into her ear. "Aranath wrote about it in Hidden Magic. The technique was used by human slaves to escape the notice of their Dark Elf masters, and later to hide from Inquisitors during the Sacerdotium's rule."
"Let me guess, one of your books from the restricted section?" Aela smiled wryly, not taking her attention from White-Hair."
"Of course!" the elven mage replied. "I did thumb through a few of them, from time to time."
Three more oathmen of House Camna came from the shop. One was a gray-skinned
Guzuk orc, armed with the point-heavy kopis his people were known for. Next was a brown-haired Arvern carrying a leaf-shaped sword with a pommel that flared out to either side like a pair of antenna. Finally came a dark Rasen armed with a straight, double-edged Skanjr-style sword.
They did not rush in as their predecessors had. Instead they moved slowly around White-Hair, careful to stay out of her reach. They beat the flats of their blades against the iron rims of their wooden shields. In spite of the quick work White-Hair had made of their comrades, their eyes showed no fear. They were wolves, closing in for the kill.
In the meantime the first Rasen, clad in velvet and silk rather than armor, had climbed to his feet off to one side. "Murderer," he hissed, drawing a jeweled dagger from his hip. Still, he made no move to enter battle himself.
Once they had White-Hair surrounded, the oathmen all moved in at once. The
Guzuk and Arvern in front of her shouted loudly. The orc struck high, the human low. Somehow White-Hair parried and dodged each of the simultaneous attacks. But she could not ward off the final, silent attack from the Rasen behind her. The rounded point of his double-edged sword sank deeply into her lower back, and Aela shook her head. Surely this would end it.
But it didn't. White-Hair did not slow for an instant. Pivoting on her hips, she sent a crushing back kick into the midsection of the Rasen. Aela heard a distinctive crack, and her aethersight witnessed the threads of his vertebrae shatter. The hapless oathman fell to the ground with a broken back.
His comrades did not slacken their efforts however. The orc bashed with his shield, which again had no effect upon White-Hair, but did trap her stolen sword against its surface for a moment. At the same time the Arvern brought his antenna sword down in a high, slanting cut.
White-Hair dropped to the ground, and the sword sailed harmlessly overhead. She swept out with one foot to trip the shield-basher. But the orc leapt up with both feet to avoid the trip. White-Hair sprang back to her feet in an instant. But she was too slow, for the Arvern stabbed out with his leaf-blade, burying the weapon deep into her shoulder.
Aela shifted her senses out of the aether and back to the meat world. Now she noted that there was no blood, not from the stab to her back, nor from this most recent wound. A magician skilled in vitamancy could easily stop the flow of blood. Aela did it all the time when treating wounds. But to do it in the middle of a fight,
before the wounds were even incurred, that was inconceivable.
It was almost as if White-Hair had no blood to begin with...
White-Hair dropped Princely Gift, and before the Arvern could withdraw his sword, she grabbed it. Aela noted that she took care to grip the weapon by pinning the flat of the blade between the tops of her fingers and the palm of her hand, so that the edge did not touch her skin. The oathman tried to pull his sword back for another blow, but could not budge it from White-Hair's grasp.
Now she twisted to the side, tearing the point out of her shoulder, but only after gouging out a long line of flesh with it. Again, there was no blood. She pulled on the sword as she twisted, dragging the Arvern with it. He blundered into his comrade, who was beginning a cut with his kopis. The orc's sword was fouled by the Arvern, and both went stumbling to one side.
White-Hair released her grip on the antenna sword and came up behind the Arvern. Before he could react, she wrapped her hands around his waist. Bending backwards, she effortlessly lifted his armored form up over her head in a belly to back suplex. Continuing in a swift, fluid motion, she bent over completely backwards, so that her hair brushed the paving stones. The oathman flew above her, and his head and shoulders slammed directly into the street with a crunching of bone.
White-Hair twisted to one side after the back arch throw and bounced to her feet. The final oathman stared at her. His sword clattered to the ground, followed by his shield. But the gray-skinned
Guzuk was not surrendering. Instead he moved forward with fists raised.
"Is he mad?" one of the Teodon gaped. "She'll kill him!"
"I don't think so," Aela observed. "She has not killed a single one of them." Indeed, White-Hair had stunned, concussed, and crippled the oathmen. But not one of their injuries would be fatal. In fact, Aela knew from personal experience that with skilled magical healing every one of them would be back on their feet as hale and hearty as before.
"For someone called an assassin and murderer, her singular avoidance of killing is most interesting," Loria said.
The two came together and traded blows in the orc-style of kick-boxing. Using fists and feet, they exchanged a flurry of strikes and counters. Blood and part of a tusk sailed from the orc's mouth. His answering blows had less effect however. In fact, Aela now saw that White-Hair's nose was just as straight and true as it had been before the earlier shield-bash had crushed it. Likewise, the wound on her shoulder had closed, and there was no sign of the stab to her back. As Aela watched, even the skinned flesh on her knuckles flowed back together seconds after every punch she landed.
"She's regenerating," Aela noted, " and she's clearly enhanced her strength and speed."
It felt strange, just standing by and watching someone else fighting desperately. But given that she had no idea what this about, she was not going to enter the fray herself. She would be just as likely to be helping whoever was in the wrong as who was in the right. Assuming anyone was in the right.
"Maybe she has armored her skin?" Loria wondered aloud.
"Not enough to stop a sword." Aela shook her head. "I think she is just taking the pain until she heals."
Now the oathman kicked low, at White-Hair's knee. She lifted her leg to block with her shin. She instantly replied with a similar kick with her opposite leg. He likewise blocked, and followed with a knee to her mid-section. She shrugged it off, and landed a hammer blow to his ribs.
The orc seemed unfazed, and launched a push kick directly at White-Hair's jaw. She side-stepped however, and caught his leg with one arm. Twisting to one side, she brought her elbow down hard on the
Guzuk's leg. The resulting crack was like thunder in Aela's ears. The orc fell with his shin twisted at a right angle to the rest of his leg. Jagged shards of bone protruded from the rent flesh around the wound, and more blood pooled in the street. He didn't make a sound, but he was clearly finished.
Belly to Back Suplex (German Suplex)