Chapter Text

Stones

The first step

‘A grave, one of many lain across to the side of a small town in Victoria, within its rusty fencing and macabre stone architecture kneels a small girl, angered gaze towards the small Originium spike which had poked out of the recently freshest shallow grave’

‘Tap tap tap’

“C’mon… work already!” ‘The Feline shouts in frustration as she pokes the spike with her newly brought arts staff, the tip of the Originium spike breaking off as she taps through it in frustration’

“Arts manipulator my ass!” ‘She shouts, getting up and looking at the staff, its make similar to a walking cane’

“A cheap lowball stupid–” ‘She sighs, grabbing her forehead and moving her hand down to her nose, letting off a weighted sigh’

‘The damp ground bearing darkened stone weathered away from the recent storms, Molly stands there alone’

‘Creak’ ‘She looks towards the gate, snapping out of her trance’

“Hm...? Who goes there?” ‘She whips her head around to the gate’

“Evening… Molly.” ‘The quiet sound of Cillian greets the frightened Feline’

“Oh, phew... Thank the dragons it’s you, thought it was some bloody bastard carrying a burlap full of blood…”

“Hah... hardly. There was a merchant coming by today, you might still be able to catch it, they are just packing up...”

“Pfft, been there, done that, damn bastard scammed me! ‘Sold’ me this staff promising to be able to manipulate Originium and what do I get? Nothing!” ‘The Taran Feline voices her frustration, striking the earth with the tip of her staff, a small block popping out from below’

“Err… how did you get enough money to buy something like that? I’m sure the merchant could take it back-” ‘Cillian gets cut off from voicing his concerns’

“I stole it when he wasn’t looking, I mean I’m sure he’d hardly notice, has like what, thirty staves in his cart?” ‘Molly says casually, waving her staff around triumphantly’

“You know what they do to thieves… ol’ Slackjaw got his name just cause he stole a loaf of bread from a traveling circus…”

“Yeah, and he’s now resting right here! That’s what… That’s what happens when you try stealing anything from a Victorian. Pft.” ‘Mandra’s voice slowly drowns as she leans back on one of the gravestones and spits at the mention of Victorians’

“Why did you pick this work, by the way...? It’s so grim being here...” ‘He asks looking up at the old-Victorian stone architecture among the sea of gravestones’

“Meh, it’s a good place, no one bothers me, I don’t have to deal with any stuck up nobles and I get paid a fair sum for burying the odd sods that the Baron’s men drag in, huddling up beside the road is just part for the course regardless” ‘The gravekeeper exclaims before stretching her legs a bit, stepping into a puddle on accident’

“Plus if this damned thing worked… I might have been able to do something like learning how to use it, but no…”

‘Cillian tries to step in but it’s already too late as Molly starts to hammer on’

“Stupid Originium, stupid Victoria, stupid everything, we sit around huddled next to village tellers hearing about how great Tara was, but where is it now? Where the HELL is it now?”

“Useless piece of SHIT!”

‘In brashful anger she grabs her staff and strikes with all her might against a gargoyle sculpture decorating the graveyard she had become the keeper of’

“We just exist to fill some noble’s halls with gold, everything we make just gets take–”

‘The gargoyle’s wing starts to quiver slightly’

“Umm… Molly, your staff-” ‘At Cillian’s remark she checks her staff, the top of it glowing with an amber coloring’

“What the–”

‘The gargoyle splits forth, its leg unbinding from the stone it was carved from, it sprouts its wings as Molly falls back, water splashing up whilst her friend watches on with horror’

“What the hell is tha-” ‘Cillian steps back in shock’

“OH GOD OH FUCK WHAT THE HELL!!” ‘Instinctively, Molly begins smacking the beast’s head with her staff as she tries to crawl back on the lazily put out and very muddy gravel road, the staff’s glows even brighter with each smack’

‘The gargoyle sits, its wings going back into a passive form as it gazes with nonexistent eyes towards the newfound caster.’

“AHHHhhh… wait… did it just... listen?” ‘She looks up at the gargoyle before getting up, trying to wipe the mud off of her with little success’

“Molly, what did you do?!” ‘Cillian asked, horrified at the rocky creature the size of a burdenbeast stationed right in front of her its claws digging into the ground as its weathered head looks nothing like the sculptures which it was derived from’

“No clue… but...” ‘She puts a palm on its head’

“I think this staff isn't a ripoff now!” ‘She said with a gleeful smile’

“... You know that practicing arts like this is against the law, right?” ‘Cillian asked curiously, still afraid of the gargoyle’

“Victorian law can kiss my ass! This is bloody fantastic!” ‘She said looking over the creatures cracked granite form’

“I… I see, just please… be careful, I don't want you to be harmed... I’ll be going, I have errands to run.” ‘Cillian waved goodbye to Molly, who was still very much infatuated with her first companion’

Freeing one’s wings

‘Rummage’

‘In a damp alleyway the black haired Feline digs away at the garbage, relentless’

“C’mon… at least some good scraps…” ‘She pleads with the broken plates and bent silverware as she throws them aside sending the rats darting away’

“... Please…” ‘Her stomach grumbles as she digs further’

‘She digs deeper into the trash, a sharp pain pierces her hand, a small bleeding streak forming on her delicate skin’

“Bloody-” ‘Her staff begins to resonate sightly, a piece of rock followed by another curls up to her hand to stop the bleeding’

“... Huh… coming in real bloody handy… but…” ‘She begins to chuckle, standing up to get reminded once more’

‘Water drips down the bleak alleyway, shaded by the roofs of houses she once called home’

‘She begins to walk home, another night of small grain and the occasional fowlbeast diet’

‘Her path towards the outskirts leads her to an oh-so familiar estate, a building standing out above the rest both in size and decorations’

‘Great windows with tinted glass, noble silhouettes behind it partying in the sunset glazed town’

‘The Taran clenches her hand into a fist’

“Eat until you bloody flop…” ‘She mutters, passing below the tall windows, the sounds of laughter, strums of instruments and the clatter of silverware fill her senses’

‘Her staff glows a volatile amber hue as she grits her teeth, rushing out of the mansion’s grounds’

‘Night dawns as she travels up the dirt path, the rusty cemetery gate greeting her’

“... Bloody bastards… all of them, that stench… makes me want to vomit” ‘She mutters covering herself with what little cloth she could scavenge’

‘The cemetery grotesque shifts the air as it takes a step off of its podium’

“... If it wasn't for yesterday I’d…” ‘She clutches onto the fabric covering her from the cold night’ “This is a nightmare… A bloody nightmare” ‘Tears begin to form as the gargoyle extends its wings to provide shelter for the Taran’

‘The caster, for the first time in a while, doesn't feel the cold, doesn't feel unsafe, doesn’t feel like the bottom rung’

“... Heh… I wonder what a rocky beast like you could do to those noble dogs…” ‘The Taran mutters gazing upon the contorted face of the gargoyle’

“... Maybe… this is why I was given such power…” ‘She grabs the head of her staff and points its end towards the gargoyle’s face’

“Alright, follow my command.” ‘The Taran kindly asks the rock beast’

‘In a shift of air the large winged creature retracts and sits down in front of Molly, perfect replica of its un-animated kin’

“Now, follow me.” ‘Molly commands with a sly smirk as she opens the gate, the gargoyle making small steps, following her with slight bobbing to the left and right’

‘The Taran girl leads the grotesque up to a hill nearing the graveyard, from which the now dimmed mansion rests, persistent orange hue emanating from its insides’

‘As the staff raises into the air, a vengeful flash of amber light pierces the night air’

“Go! Eat them! Bite them in two!” ‘Molly shouts with a manic, joyous tone’

‘The gargoyle shakes its heavy body around and spreads its wings before beginning to flap it’

‘The rocky beast begins flapping its wings in a thunderous movement of air, it releases a howl as its rocky maw breaks open in a wide scream before setting flight’

Drawing in the mud

‘Tap tap’

‘The Feline sits upon a gravestone, the cold morning breeze causing her to shudder slightly’

“Ha… bet that beast caused the baron a REAL hard time hehe…” ‘She says warmly to herself, drawing shapes into the mud with her staff, nothing of merit, just a triangle with dots around it’

‘Creak’ 

‘The rusty gate screams, opening slowly causing the gleeful Taran’s attention to dart towards the tall man in a fine coat shuffling by not to get dirt on themselves, top hat worn high and cutlass by their side’

“Tidings, gravekeeper.” ‘A low voice croaks towards the slightly startled Feline’

“Oh- um hello sir! How may I err… help you with?” ‘The caster hastily hops off of the gravestone, almost stepping into the mud below, her staff glowing slightly as she floats a slight bit to avoid dirtying herself’

‘The Victorian narrows their eyes’

“Have you heard of the news yesterday?” ‘He asks, looking down at his feet to make sure not to step into a glob of mud’

“No, sir, not much news gets to little ol’ me, ha…” ‘Molly speaks, her voice shaking as she looks up at the towering Victorian’

“Hm, there was an attack yesterday's night, a small Sarkaz-like fiend.” ‘The man shudders as Molly sighs in relief of her ruse being up’

“Oh no sir! That’s just most unfortunate… Is the baron safe, sir?” ‘Molly asks, her attempt to sound sincere fighting with her innate urge to let out a maniacal laughter’

“... The Baron of Worcestershire has been mauled by this evil beast…” ‘The Victorian man says hesitantly’

‘Molly’s face drops in shock’

“The gargoyle… Killed it?” ‘Molly asks in disbelief leaning onto the gravestone’

“Yes…” ‘The Victorian’s eyes narrow trying to remember whether they shared the information about it being a gargoyle and it targeting the baron in specific’

“I was sent to err… Arrange the burial. Yes.” ‘The Victorian man hastily continued’

“Oh... Err, won't the baron want to be… buried in a more well off place rather than in this vast cemetery?” ‘Molly’s voice shakes, her facade laid on stilts’

“Oh… his uhh– will told us to bury him among his people, yes.” ‘The Victorian replies too, having their facade laid clear as their paranoia creeps their eyes towards the mausoleum behind the Feline caster’

“What a noble lord we lost today…” ‘Molly says with a slight smirk before putting her hand over mouth’

“Hm? Graveyard keeper, are you fine?” ‘The baron’s investigator asks, rummaging around his pocket whilst intently looking towards the gargoyle guarded doorway’

“Ah, yes yes just ate something bad yester- Hey wait where are you–” ‘Molly clumsily follows him, nearly slipping in mud whilst catching up to the taller Victorian agent’

“Hm, what happened to the gargoyle that was here?” ‘The coated man asks cautiously eyeing the other gargoyle like it’s gonna burst out at any moment’

‘The Taran immediately begins to stammer’

“Oh... err... It fell over and one of its uhh…. wings! Wings broke off, so I sent it to the local mason to fix it up” ‘With a shaky tone leaning onto the other gargoyle, almost breaking one of its ears off’

“Hm, duly noted, gravekeeper.” ‘The investigator replied, taking his hand out of the pocket’

‘The man leans down in front of the still-standing gargoyle and raises the piece of rock in his hand up to it’

“Is everything alright, Sir?” ‘Molly asks looking intently over the Victorian’s shoulder’

“Hm, yes, yes, graveyard keeper, though I have one last remark.…”  ‘The Victorian man stands up and puts his hand back into the pocket before Molly could make out what it was’

‘The Taran steps back nervously, her hand gripping her staff tightly’

“You have a passion to keep over the fallen, this graveyard is well kept and up to standard… bar the gate and the fencing but the dead won't mind, I’m sure. Especially with these ‘Dublinn’ people rebelling… there’s oughta be more bodies coming here sooner or later...” ‘The Victorian speaks confidently, looking around the moderately maintained gravescape whilst still avoiding the dirt of the cemetery’

“Though… We would like to have the baron buried this evening… around the time most people are already at home, will that be fine? Gravekeeper?” ‘The Victorian asks, his hand subconsciously sliding across his scabbard’

“But… wouldn’t the baron want people to grieve over him...?” ‘Molly hesitantly asks whilst following the investigator towards the rusty gate’

‘The Victorian starts to stumble once more’

“Uhhh… The baron was err… very self conscious about his body and would like to uhhh… be buried without his death being shown to the people!” ‘The Victorian says hesitantly’

“What an odd bloke… but I'll respect his wishes, sure.” ‘The Feline shrugs at the weird request’

“Ah, glad that we’ve come to an understanding, gravekeeper.

“The Victorian says whilst releasing a large sigh and relaxing his posture”

“Now, I shall depart for the masonry workshop to inquire about this attack…” ‘The Victorian investigator exclaimed in an official-sounding tone before stepping away, turning to the rusty gate’

“Oh— Hi- hello sir.” ‘A young Taran man greets the Victorian investigator, almost bouncing into each other’

“Oh- morning.” ‘The investigator says before quickly making his way out of the cemetery ground’

Drowning in the mud

“Molly… what did you do?” ‘Cillian asks, reluctantly laying his back onto a gravestone as the Taran caster happily dangles her feet whilst seated on a rather tall gravestone’

“Seeing how easy it is to show a noble how their title means jack shite” ‘Molly says whilst trying to spin her staff around clumsily, almost dropping it onto the ground’

“But this is- this is batshit insane- you– you killed someone…” ‘Cillian replies in disbelief, pushing himself away from the gravestone, his eyes widened’

“Pfft, they’ll just blame it on Dublinn and leave it at that, at least now we’re free! No bloody barons ruling over us!” ‘Molly extends her arms and lays her back on the gravestone’

“What if– what if they think you’re also Dublinn, Molly?” ‘Cillian asks, trying to hammer on the gravity of the matter’

“Pft, nah, they are already on the stonemason’s tail, if anyone I'm burying its gonna be him along with the baron” ‘Molly gloats, tapping the staff’s head with her fingers’

“... What has gotten into you...? That staff…” ‘Cillian muttered to himself, unsure whether it's the same Molly he used to know’

“Cillian… this staff just gives me the right to give way to Taran people, those damn nobles had it coming, and if you’re right... Then I’ll die happy knowing I did way more to fight Victoria than anyone in this blasted town did” ‘The caster says with a slight bit of hesitation’

“You… really sound like a lunatic when saying that...” ‘Cillian says, gazing towards the mausoleum’s missing gargoyle whilst holding his bag of newspapers close’

“Yeah, no doubt about that, but you’d do the same if you were able to do stuff like this!” ‘Molly exclaims before taking a long sigh’

“Well… I should be off, still many papers to deliver… here's yours, no news on Baron William, as I said...” 

‘Cillian hands Molly a rolled up newspaper, on it the logo of Dublinn plastered on its front page, in bold text below; It reads’

“The new danger of Victoria, raiding brutes burnt down villages, beware of Dublinn”

“Heh... maybe I should take up that name… if they can make these snobs so shit-scared–” ‘Molly eagerly reads further into the Dublinn issue, nothing but fearmongering’

‘The small Feline looks up, Cillian has already left, only the silence remains, broken with the distant caw of a fowlbeast’

“... Well… time to see when the baron gets brought in… oh how his face would look, what if my gargoyle bit it off? Haa… ”

‘As the waiting began, a feeling of uncertainty fills her mind, she picks her stuff up and walks to the gargoyle checking whether she could recreate the effect’

“Hya!” ‘She strikes the gargoyle, no effect’

“... C’mon… Work!” ‘Another strike but to no avail’

“Come… the… fuck… on!” ‘She says between strikes, finally through frustration the staff begins to glow brighter and brighter’

“Rise… already… you… lofty… piece… of…” ‘Her strikes sprout a gargoyle, not recoiling from its arisal, it steps forth to Molly, pressing its head unto the staff’s head’

“Ah! Huff… there ya go…” ‘Molly says panting as she looks at her companion’

‘The gargoyle hums before raising its wings to stretch them out’

“?!” ‘Molly gets pushed to the side as the gargoyle retreats its wings. Alerted, it looks behind Molly, beginning to march towards something in a sluggish manner’

“Hm, impressive arts for a Taran.”  ‘A girl says walking up to the rocky beast, not intimidated by its form, their horns sticking out of their hood as well as a tinge of purple flame behind their back’

“! I- uh– Who the hell are you?! How did you get in?!” ‘Molly asks, her head blinking between the rusty gate and the uninvited guest’

“I’m a relative of the noble. I was invited to watch the funeral.” ‘The girl replied simply, unbothered by the gargoyle’

“Haha no, seriously, who the hell are you? The baron didn't have any horns and a scaly tail!”

“Well, yes… I suppose I shall reveal myself as-”

“You’re Dublinn, aren’t ya? Same blokes who got the Victorians panties all tied in a twist!”

“I-”

“Oh you came because you heard the news? The baron getting mauled by one of my gargoyles? Served them right, that noble scum, haa~” ‘Molly continues to go on a tangent, much to the irritation of the horned individual infront of her’

“Oh fine fine, be it, you can watch the burial all that you want, but you should go hide in the woods nearby, doubt the guards of the barons body want anyone else to see the dead fuck” ‘Molly continues grinning ear to ear’

“I shall, in that case, await this event.” ‘The girl replies, turning around and walking back, their purple flamed tail swaying side to side whilst they walk down the gravel road.’

 “Oh what a spectacle~ ain't that right?” ‘Molly asks, patting her gargoyle as it glares towards the woman’

‘Time passes whilst Molly awaits, looking through the gate towards the road, waiting for the baron’s body to be delivered, her trophy’

‘Torchlight illuminates the darkening sky as three men clad in regal attire walk up, behind them a hooded figure holding onto something’

“Huh... did my gargoyle do that much to him that they had to cremate that bloody bastard?! I dug such a large hole…” ’She says to herself before taking a deep sigh and welcoming the evening guests’

“‘Ahem’ Evening… gents.” ‘Molly says in a feint tone, the shadows hiding her slight smile’

“Good evening, gravekeeper.” ‘Yesterday’s investigator greets Molly as the three Victorians stand behind him’

“I’ve… prepared the grave for the kind sir...” ‘Molly glances to the mausoleum, her gargoyle sitting still upon its podium’

“Good… may we see it?” ‘One of the Victorians asks from behind, looking warily around the graveyard as mist gathers around its sculpted legs’

“Sure, sure, please, follow me” ‘Molly says, fighting the urge to frolic at her triumph’ 

‘The four silently begin to walk, the setting sun’s light overtaken by the torchfire’ 

‘Molly begins to feel a sense of dread, she gulps as she walks in front of the grave’

“Here we are, gents! So… where’s the noble’s body?” ‘Molly asks, looking around to the four, the three tall men parting, letting the cloaked one in front’

“You… does this look familiar to you?” ‘The cloaked person asks, lowering his cloak for her eyes to meet the sickening face of the very noble she thought dead’

‘He holds up a piece of the gargoyle’s head which had rammed into its home’

“You… it was you wasn't it?” ‘The noble accuses Molly as the three tall Victorians hold their hands to their waists’

“I– err… what...?” ‘She asks, her tone begins to shake’

“You work for Dublinn! You are naught but a beast!” ‘The noble yells, pointing his skinny finger towards the Taran caster’

‘The ground begins to shake’

“SIR BARON– THE STATUE!” ‘The furthest back bodyguard yells before the gargoyle’s wings stab into his torso as Molly’s spawn begins to defend itself’

“KILL HER!” ‘The baron shouts, to which the torchbearer unsheathes his cutlass and strikes Molly across the chest, staff flung to the side as the Feline falls backwards into the shallow grave’

“Mom… Dad…” ‘She whispers, her hand over the wound, she’s bleeding.’

‘The sounds of violence echoes through as the gargoyle gives it their all, the sound of an explosion halting it’

“Huff… huff… Baron William sire, the beast lays dead” ‘A sound echoes from above the pit’

‘Molly begins to cry, her hands shaking as she tries to stop the bleeding, leaning onto the side of the grave only for the bloodloss to get worse’

‘Torchlight nears the above the grave, yesterday's investigator gazes downwards, his cloak is torn to show armor below it’

“She’s still alive, sire.” ‘He says looking to the sides, averting his gaze from the pathetic creature’

“Good, good! This’ll make an example of any other Dublinn rats! Bury her!”

‘The baron commands as the Victorian bodyguard starts to kick down earth into the grave’

“Cillia…n…” ‘She remembers what little group she held close, her life so short, she cries holding onto her wound, she curls up’

‘Earth encloses around her, arms and legs, her head, her breath below it as the shoveling continues’

‘The faint sounds turn even less noticeable as she starts to think once more’

“No… To die by this old Victorian noble’s command… to be killed for doing the right thing to fall to this piece of–” ‘thoughts run through her mind as she grows angrier, she tries to move but the ground is too heavy, she claws at it, growls, cries, thrashes’

‘Grab’

‘A soft hand meets Molly reaching out, it starts to pull up’

‘The darkened sky meets Molly’s amber eyes once more, she sees the battlefield, the gargoyle’s rubble lay piercing the torso of one of the Victorians, charred grass around the point where it shattered. The other Victorian guards lay around, charred and one decapitated, away from them on the gravel road stands another silhouette.’

“GASP- Ghk- haa- haah…” ‘Molly meets the purple flames once more’

“Are you alright, Molly?” ‘The girl asks the gasping Feline’

“Augh- well… my chest is… gh…” ‘She tries to speak but the pain is too great’

“You did great, proud Taran, we were impressed, you’re a true daughter of Tara…”

“Pft… who's to ghk- say?” ‘Molly asks, gritting her teeth in pain’

“Call me Eblana. Eblana Dublinn.” ‘She says, her violet eyes carrying confidence’

“Sister… should I...?” ‘The figure standing on the gravel road turns, their blue eyes meeting Molly’s worried gaze as she lowers her eyes, seeing what had remained of the Baron’

“Haa… I'm gh- Dreaming...” ‘Molly mutters to herself as Eblana nods, the other horned individual baring bright orange flames grabs Molly as the three leave the graveyard’graveyard’

Molly?

‘Grey clouds loom above the small village as the mansion resting on its outskirts gets passed by a lone Taran courier’

“Huh… about to rain, should probably tell Mol about it…” ‘Cillian mutters to himself, passing by the silent and partially broken windows of the baron’s mansion’

‘No sounds whatsoever, just a couple people working the fields’

“... Huh, the old man may have bitten the dust by her hands… She’ll be up in arms about it… good for her” ‘He mutters to himself, going onto a gravel road bordering the forest line’

“... I wonder how she’ll feel about Dublinn being around here… Not like they like Victoria either…” ‘Cillian’s words drown out, looking at the mesmerising trees, evergreen’

“... Madmen marching against madmen…” ‘He continues onto a dirt path led into the forest’

‘His bag bounces, within it a large assortment of rolled up newspapers and a nicely packaged meal’

‘He hums a folk song whilst travelling up the hill leading to a clearing upon which the graveyard stood, rogue gravestones broken in half already present between the woods’

‘Droplets of rain began to filter through the trees, hitting the path in front of the young Taran’

‘He reaches the top of the hill, the old rusty gate wide open’

“Mol?” ‘Cillian calls out, she always had the due diligence to keep the gate closed’

‘Continuing his steps, now hastened; halt just as fast as he steps into the gateway’

‘His bag falls as he gazes atop the ruined graveyard’

‘Gravestones smashed and broken, blood splattered across the muddy ground as the crypt near the entrance lay without either of its guardian sculptures’

“Molly! Whe- where are you?!” ‘Cillian rushes into the graveyard, his shoes splatter atop mud made of blood’

‘He dashes through the halls of graves as rain begins to downpour’

‘He shouts for the caster but only the continuous rain answers’

“Mol…ly…”

‘He arrives to the end of the graveyard, the rubble of a gargoyle now rest beside the hole she dug yesterday, in the rubble rests a gargoyle’s remnant with a victorian blade stabbed firmly in it’

‘The grave is filled’

‘Cillian kneels down in front of the freshly made grave unmarked like many of the latest additions’

“No…” ‘Cillian looks to the ground darkening with the further raindrops’

‘He begins to contribute’

“I’m… sorry… Molly…” ‘Cillian’s words begin to weaver as he looks upon the unset earth’

“How could I not see this would…” ‘He punches the soil’

“I could've… I could’ve been here…” ‘Another punch lays onto the ground’

“I… I… would’ve- I- I- could’ve done nothing…” ‘Cillian chokes out, halting from a third punch as he looks onto his hand’

‘Cut up in red stretch marks as raindrops wash away the steady flow of blood’

“... I-”

“How could I let this…?” ‘The taran asks himself, solemnly standing up’

“... That baron- th- that murderer…” ‘Cillian walks over to the sword stabbed into the gargoyle’s remnants’

‘He firmly grabs the blade’

‘He begins to pull’

‘Pull with all his might’

“Come- on-” ‘Taking his second hand onto it, and utilising his weight to pull it out, the blade finally dislodges sending both him and the blunted blade to the muddy ground’

“... If it takes me using their own blade…” ‘Cillain says, standing up trying to hold the blade up straight’

“Ha… no, Cillian think straight… think straight… I wouldnt have a chance at- any shot at killing a Victorian soldier…” ‘His words echo with sorrow, letting the sword go flying down by the hilt’

“I’m not cut out to defend anyone…” ‘He begrudgingly walks back to the graveyard’s gate, his bag lain in a puddle formed around it’

“Ack!! My bag- the meal- the letters-” ‘Cillain quickly snathes the couriers bag up, dragging both him and his belongings to the crypt’

‘Macabre stone arches over him, taking the steps down to a small room’

“... Molly…” ‘Cillian gazes up on the mossy interior, a roughed up sleeping bag, next to it a small bowl filled with Victorian money’

‘Cillian reluctantly sits down on the sleeping bag, opening his bag up’

“... Dublinn… they fight Victorians… they could help me…” ‘Cillian begins to dig through letters’

“... Boss… haha… told me not to mess with the triangle symbols and just deliver them… makes all the more sense now… Taran kin…” ‘The courier chuckles to himself taking out letters soggy or not’

‘He reaches the bottom of the bag, still warm on the top with the packaging preventing it from being soaked’

“...” ‘He stares blankly at it before with a shaky hand raising it up and putting it beside him on the sleeping bag’

“... For you, Mol… I’m sorry…” ‘His words echo out, pained, his eyes water before slapping himself, turning to the letters’

‘The Taran begins to flip through letter by letter, package by package’

‘A small box, the triangle on its side’

“... Banker street 7… the brewery…” ‘He mutters, putting the letters back to his damp bag, he takes a small boxcutter out of its side compartment’

“If it can cut packaging it can…” ‘Cillian shudders at the idea, but rests the sharp blade in his pocket regardless’

Uphill battle

‘Darkened skies cry upon the village as a grieving ghost walks past empty streets’

‘Hat dampened, and clothes soaked he marches forth uncaring’

‘The old brewery, soon to be put out of commission by the Victorian run winery’

‘Knock knock’

‘A large Feline man lazes on the front counter, a bottle of milk by his side’

“Ha- whuh? Who goes- oh right… door closed…” ‘With a large creek the man rises, scratching his back and grumbling, still half asleep’

‘He grabs onto the door handle, as soon as his hands begin to turn it, Cillian pushes forth’

“Ack! Thief! Thie- oh… oh lordie… why don’t ya wait a little? Rain got you in a bad mood?” ‘The rather plump Feline asks the Taran courier’

“I- err- yes! The weather is just the worst today, but I’m still here to make deliveries!” ‘Cillian exclaims, holding a small package up to the man’

“Huh, thought you liked to sit these days out in that shithole’ down the baron’s estate… Ya really growing up” ‘The Feline man exclaims with a large yawn, scratching his chin and turning back to the desk’

“How do I join them, sir?” ‘Cillian speaks up behind the Feline man, the door closing’

“Eh? What are you talking about my boy? Join what? Making wine to beat the newcomers?” ‘The grumpy Feline man tries to turn around, only to feel something sharp at his behind’

“I… Dublinn… I want to join Dublinn, sir.” ‘Cillian exclaims in a cold tone, hand shaking whilst holding the boxcutter’

“Haha… hey now, easy there I ain't got no clue what Dublinn you’re talking about-” ‘The Feline man tries to speak further, only for the Taran to cut into his words’

“You’re Taran… I’m Taran, Boss back at the print is Taran… it makes sense for the boxes marked with a triangle to be sent to Dublinn, right? Know what’s ours and what isn't?” ‘Cillian presses further as the large Feline man lets off an exasperated sigh’

“Knew you were always keen eyed… Even pointed out how the roof of this place was sliding before the Victorian safety regulations caught on… You’re right, now, will ya put that bloody shank away from my hind? I gotta sit on something and I already have a bad back!” ‘The Feline man annoyedly remarks, turning around whilst Cillian pulls his hand back’

‘The brewery owner takes seat at the desk, motioning the young Taran to join’

“Cillian… What happened, boy? You’re timid, the last I’ve checked… also who in the dragons gave ya a boxcutter?”

“Not important, sir… I- I… I just want to know how to join Dublinn” ‘Cillian remarks in a pained tone, the eyes of the large Feline widening’

“Now, now, my boy… You can trust me! Ol’ Charles knows how to keep a secret… Plus you look even worse than what I’d expect a doused Feline to be…” ‘The rather rotund man leans back in his chair, though his expression still one of worry as Cillian’s hands shake further’

“They… they took her… I was walking down to the cemetery this morning and- and-” ‘He forces his throat, the words refusing to vocalise as he gasps for air much to the further worry of the brewery keeper’

“... Stop, Cillian… I’m sorry… didn’t know it was that serious…” ‘The man remarks, pulling a cup up and sliding it down the table’

“Here, pour yourself one, we’ll talk about Dublinn later” ‘The large man tells the slim one’

“No, sir, I’m fine… just tell me about Dublinn, please…” ‘Cillian continues’

“Ack… Leader’s gonna have my head for this, but fine… just cause I know you’re a standup guy… Go behind the brewery, back in the day I tried to keep some barrels of wine but it all got messy so I left it there… and when Dublinn came, they needed a shelter, soo…” ‘The Feline man motions with his hands’

“You are hosting their hideout?” ‘Cillian asks blankly’

“Bingo! Paying me more than having the wine rot down there… and you know me, know how to keep… or… used to keep my mouth from running” ‘The man scratches his back with an awkward chuckle’

“I understand, sir… and err, I’ll make sure not to tell them you sent me!” ‘Cillian exclaims, standing up from the table’

“Hey, hey! Ain’t so easy, now, ya need a passcode, something every worth a while Dublinn knows” ‘The Feline man tries to stand up from his chair, nearly falling forth in the sudden burst of momentum’

‘Cillian takes the due diligence of helping the rather large man from toppling over’

“Do you have something that would fit?” ‘Cillian asks, helping the man return to his chair’

“Ehh… Not really? Haven’t had to hear it since I can pop down basically whenever, but what I can give is their oath, hope they don't mistake ya for a guard trying to snuff them out and whatnot…” ‘The man says, the chair creaking below his tremendous presence’

“I’m willing to take the risk, sir.” ‘Cillian says with a little bow’

“Alright… course ya do, it goes like this” ‘The Feline man clears his throat, going into a tiny coughing fit’

“O’ to be the one who sets the sun is to be the number one!” ‘The Feline man says with a small chuckle’

“Added that last part on for a little spice… the original stops at sun” ‘He exclaims with a boozy smile’

‘Cillian nods along’ “Understood, sir… And thank you, thank you!” ‘Cillian tries to shake the man’s hand, but he has already gone back to his slumber’

‘Cillian turns back, his hands on the doorknob he twists back into the rainy street’

‘Stepping into the downpour and trying to walk along the overhangs of roofs, he circles around the brewery’

‘Between some shrubs meaning to be an ornate garden, a small hatch lays embedded with stone bricks bordering it’

‘The wood is rotting but sturdy, he pulls on its latches’

‘Morning light clouded by a storm illuminates the cellar as Cillian takes careful steps down, making sure not to slip upon the moss covered staircase’

‘The cellar is dark, only the metallic lines of the wine barrels reflect from Cillian’s view’

“Err… Someone there? Anyone?” ‘Cillian calls out to the darkness, to no response’

“Err…” ‘Cillian nervously clears his throat’

“To be the one who sets the sun” ‘He mutters out, the door begins him slamming shutting by the stormy weather’

“... Please?” ‘Cillian questions as a secret door on the far side of the cellar opens to orange light’

“... Who is it that spoke that phrase?” ‘A woman calls out as orange flames illuminate a pale lance’

‘The light behind the door make a silhouette of the person standing face to face with Cillian’

‘Horns angled to the sky, tall and slim, a large Draco tail-’

“So the rumours were real…” ‘Cillian mutters as the orange flame wielding Draco charges the Taran’

‘Without a moment to react, the lance rests in front of his face’

“How do you know that phrase?” ‘The woman asks Cillian, his blood chilled and his heartbeat nonexistent’

“E- err- I-” ‘He struggles to form words as the lance comes ever closer to his face’

“Sister, rest your hand, he is clearly Taran, and very dedicated to our cause” ‘A violet flame immolates the secret door’s entrance, a figure bearing similar features of the one nearly piercing his face steps forth’

“By your orders…” ‘The orange flamed Draco lowers her spear and steps to the side, her tail reaching out, a flame atop it illuminating the path in front of Cillian’

‘The Taran nervously gulps as the violet one steps forth’

“Come, kinsman, step forth and allow me to ask, how did your devotion lead to knowing such an intimate phrase?” ‘The violet one asks the courier’

“... I’m a delivery boy, I know people… and I lost people…” ‘Cillian exclaims, his tail hanging low, brushing against the cellar’s floor’

“Such is the torture that the Victorians bestow upon the true Taran, step forth to me, kin, you have already told me the oath, I needn’t ask you to recite it.” ‘The violet one exclaims with an open palm, her eye glowing with a slight shade of purple’

‘Cillian begins to walk towards The Leader of Dublinn, the orange flame following closely behind him’

“What would you like to be called, kin?” ‘The violet one asks as Cillian approaches close enough to make out the details of the face’

“Err… I don’t- I don’t know what that means-” ‘Cillian sheepishly exclaims, beckoned by The Leader’

“Then with such connections to reach us with such expertise, I shall bestow the title of ‘The Spy’ upon you, would it fit, Taran kin?” ‘The violet one asks whilst the orange one quietly returns behind the secret doorway’

“Yes… that sounds good… thank you…” ‘Cillian exclaims with uncertainty’

“My name is Eblana, The Leader of Dublinn. Please, come join us, The Spy.” ‘The violet one motions to the Taran, stepping through the doorway and into a rather spacious hall’

Welcome to Dublinn

“Leader Eblana…” ‘Cillian speaks up, following the Draco into the surprisingly well decorated hideout’

“Spy, you needn’t use such long monicker, please just call me The Leader” ‘The violet flame draco responds to his call with a soft, relaxed tone’

“... The Leader, may I have a request?” ‘Cillian asks, rubbing his shoulder as the orange flamed Draco closes the door behind the two, silently moving by them’

“Oh, so soon, kin, would this reason be why you joined Dublinn?” ‘The violet flame draco turns around in an inquisitive tone’

“I- err… yes, yes it is” ‘Cillian stumbles his words, but reminding himself of the graveyard, his tone strightens’

“... It is obligatory for us to help Taranfolk, but please, this matter shall be asked once the rain passes, it is bad luck to explain plans beneath bad weather, after all.” ‘Eblana’s words strike a false notion with Cillian’

“I- The- The Leader-” ‘Cillian tries to continue, but the violet flame glows distant before disappearing behind a hallway leading from the hideout’

‘Cillian steps back, his eyes are shaking as he gazes upon the suspiciously spacious hall’

‘Halls reach outwards as a group of Taran sit by a table silently playing cards, a couple carry boxes from one side tunnel to another, a large wine barrel decorates the hall, a lone man sitting on a bench beside it’

‘His wrinkly hands raise as they wave over to The Spy’

“Oi’ new face, mosey over will ya?” ‘The man calls out to Cillian as he hesitantly steps forwards to the man’

“Err… right- right away, sir.” ‘The Spy anxiously calls out, his hands are shaking’

“Hah, why’re ya confirming it when already moving?” ‘The old man asks, raising a cup of wine up to his mouth’

‘The steeled silence of Cillian strikes understanding in the old man’

“... The name’s Hogan, take a seat, will ya?” ‘The old man pats the cushions of the old sofa he rests on’

‘Cillian awkwardly nods, taking seat, as ordered’

“... I’ve seen a face like that before, what ya wanted to talk to Eblana about? Young Leader caught your eye?” ‘The old man chuckles, nudging The Spy’

“... I wanted to request… help…” ‘Cillian mutters out hesitantly’

“Help? Aye’ lad, if you got Oripathy we have someone who could help you dig your grave” ‘Hogan’s smile drops, listening to The Spy, his hand withdrawn’

“No- no, Oripathy is not something I have… I think… It’s- It’s something else” ‘Cillian’s voice shakes as the man studies his posture, his old brown eyes darting between his torso and face’

“Then what did ya need help about? Maybe ol’ hogan can help… Princess Eblana already has a bodyguard, if an old Feline can solve ya issue, of course!” ‘The old man cackles slightly’

“... I need help to kill the local baron… burn his manor down… erase all who he was…” ‘Cillian’s voice turns to a whisper to the old man, his throat clenching as his hands shake’

‘Hogan grows a wide smile’

“Oh Mandragora! We got some blokes wanting the baron dead!” ‘Hogan shouts out, alerting the group playing cards’

“Coming!!” ‘A familiar voice chills Cillian’s blood’

“Is that-” ‘Cillain’s eyes widen, staring at the tunnel from which her voice echoed through from’

“Ah? Someone ya know?” ‘Hogan looks over to Cillian, already raising from his seat’

‘From the tunnel arise a Taran girl, fit in grey robes and a mask hanging on her chin’

‘Golden strands line her robes, black boots with an uneven stature’

“Ya wanted to hear about-” ‘Molly speaks to the rapidly approaching Cillian’

“Mol- Mol!!” ‘The Spy goes to hug Mandragora, picking her up’

“HEY! CUT IT OUT-” ‘Mandra initially tries to pull away, but eventually realises how comfortable it is’

‘Her tail curls around Cillian’s leg’

“… Didn’t expect ya to-” ‘Mandra tries to talk only for Cillian’s grip to tighten’

“Oh I- I thought you- when I- I saw blood and- and-” ‘Cillian’s words break as he begins to tear up’

“... Can you put me down? … I’m really sore-” ‘Mandra pats the back of Cillian, weakly calling out as she looks onto the hall, now staring at the two’

“Ah- sorry- sorry I- I got carried away” ‘Cillian slowly lifts Molly back down, wiping his face of tears and taking heavy breaths’

“What the- what the bloody hell are you doing around here…? Didn’t think you’d-” ‘Mandra’s voice squeaks weakly, holding onto both her staff and Cillian’s hand for stability’

“... Err… It was-” ‘Cillian stumbles his words once more as Molly looks around’

“... Cil, how about we go talk somewhere else? I don’t like these blokes staring at us… How’s the weather outside?” ‘Mandra asks, her tone low, gazing to the card playing group with daggers bolstering both side’s pairs of eyes’

“It’s been raining since the morning…” ‘Cillian nervously exclaims to the smug smirk of Molly’

“Ah! Perfect weather, then! Let’s go!” ‘Mandra hastily pulls The Spy along, towards the secret doors entrance’

“Mol- you misheard-” ‘Cillian tries to plead with Molly’

“Hah, nope!” ‘Mandra excitedly drags Cillian past the door flinging out without her lifting a finger, bringing The Spy into the dark cellar’

‘Their shoes step onto puddles of water’

“The cellar is flooding-” ‘Cillian tries to pull back to the comparable warmth of the hideout’

“Oh I’m sure it’ll be fine, come already you bloody rock! At Least most I can move with my staff” ‘Molly exclaims, dragging Cillian further’

“Wh- why are you even dragging me?! Molly, the last thing I wanna do is catch a cold after…” ‘The Spy’s words dim as Mandragora pokes her with her staff’

“... Staff won't work either… please, I wanna show something thrifty!” ‘Molly exclaims bashfully, starting to take steps up the cellar entrance’

‘Cillian silently complies as Mandragora opens the cellar door to the expected rainfall’

‘She raises her staff as amber light envelops is’

“Earth of TARA! Shield me!” ‘Mandragora excitedly yells out as rocks begin to gather both from the cellar floor and the garden above’

‘An umbrella like formation of rocks shields above Mandragora’s head, expanding over to Cillian’s head as the raindrops bounce off’

“Wow…” ‘Cillian mutters, reaching up and tapping the floating rocks’

“Not so reluctant now, are ya?” ‘Molly pokes Cillian with her staff once more’

“I developed it this morning! Pretty bloody useful when someone tries to sneak up on me… Though, so far it's only good for hauling large masses of rubble…” ‘Madra murmurs, leading Cillian out into the open sky’

“Huh… it’s nice… Why did you want to come outside, though?” ‘The Spy asks, leaning back onto the brewery’s wall as Mandragora pops a piece of the wall out for the two to sit on’

“Meh, it got pretty dusty and I wanted to get some fresh breeze, even if it's raining on my gob…” ‘Molly explains, her tail tapping against Cillian’s side’

“Plus… I didn’t wanna talk to you with all of them around, you’re a real jackass for charging me like that… Could’ve sent a pillar through ya…” ‘Mandra continues her monologue as Cillian stares to the raining street ahead of them’

“I’m sorry, Molly, I wasn’t thinking straight…” ‘The Spy exclaims with a smile’

“Eh, the first time I saw ya cry…” ‘Mandra’s words choke slightly’

“I’m sorry you had to-” ‘Cillian’s words get interrupted’

“Bloody hell are you on about…? Sheesh, don't bloody treat me like a different person just cause I finally got the right idea!” ‘Mandragora angrily remarks, staring to her side, into Cillian’s soul’

“... I was just afraid…” ‘Cillian mumbles out, tears flowed from his eyes’

“Cil… You saw the aftermath of that shitshow, didnt you?” ‘Mandra asks, her tone drowned of anger’

“... I thought you were…” ‘Cillian continues to choke his words out’

“You cared for me this bloody much…? Track Dublinn down to kill that baron? Hah! Here I thought I was the only lunatic in this village!” ‘Mandragora smiles widely as Cillian looks over to her’

‘Mandragora sits beside him, grey cloak draped over, as a Dublinn mask rests around her neck, a wide gleaming smile, Cillian could see below the cloak, a red gash visible’

“Mol… what- what happened…?” ‘Cillian asks, reaching towards Mandra’s wound’

“Eh?!” ‘Mandragora tries to smack the hand away, but as Cillian reaches forward, with a slight grumble; choosing to rather lay her hand on his’

‘Cillian lightly pulls the robe down to reveal a large slash mark’

“... Could’ve asked me, y’know?” ‘Mandragora bashfully exclaimed to the horrified eyes of Cillian’

“Mol… thi- this was-” ‘The Spy’s words shake staring at the long red streak across her torso, he touches it causing Molly to wince’

“One of the baron’s men got a lucky hit on me, nothing big, really…” ‘Mandragora exclaims, grabbing onto the caster robes and pulling them back hastily’

“... I’m sorry… I wasn’t there…” ‘Cillian shakily pulls his hand back to the slight chuckle of Mandra’

“I’m glad… it was a shitshow through and through… Bastard almost got me buried alive, but The Leader dragged me out just in time!” ‘Mandragora’s smile returns once more’

“Plus… It'll eventually heal, ain’t that right?” ‘Mandra asks, fastening her robes’

“Guess who got to bury those bloody sods by midnight?” ‘Mandra asks, happily tapping her staff against the muddy earth’

“You did good, Molly… I’m just-” ‘Cillians words get cut once more as Mandra grabs onto his hand once more’

“No… time for me to say that bloody line, I’m sorry, Cil.” ‘Mandra exclaims with certainty’

“I was… Dumb… I should’ve trusted you when you invited me to sleep in your tool shed…” ‘Molly nervously admits, rubbing her shoulder’

“You had your right to be untrusting” ‘Cillian remarks, only to be smacked my Mandra’

“And YOU had the right to call me a dumbass!” ‘Mandra spews out in an annoyed tone’

“... But you didn’t…” ‘Her hand slides down his shoulder, tail withdrawing’

“Mol… If I make a promise now, would you believe in me?” ‘Cillian hesitantly asks, looking over at Mandragora’s pained smile’

“... Should’ve started listening a good while before… shoot” ‘Molly exclaims, her amber eyes staring into Cillian’s’

‘Cillian takes a deep breath’ 

“No matter where you’ll be…” ‘The Spy reaches to Mandragora’

‘She slightly pulls back as his hand rises’

“No matter where I’ll be” ‘His hand holds onto her head’

“I’ll do everything” ‘Cillian leans in’

“To never see you hurt…”

‘He lays a soft kiss onto Molly’s forehead, the widened eyes of the caster responding in wide eyed silence’

“... Er- uhm- s- so what name did you choose? M- Mine is Mandragora… Y- you can still call me Molly, though-” ‘Mandra bashfully exclaims as both her hands and the rocks begin shaking’

“Huh… beautiful name choice” ‘Cillian remarks, pulling back, the stoneshield following closely above his head’

“The Leader called it an apt choice…” ‘Mandragora nervously exclaimed, scratching the back of her neck’

“Hm, The Leader suggested my codename to be The Spy, how I figured out where this hideout is…” ‘Cillian exclaims, his voice finally calmed’

“Hah! That’s a bloody great title, I'm sure you'll actually be able to back that title up!” ‘Mandragora exclaims, holding onto Cillian whilst standing up’ 

“I’ll try, Molly…”

“I’ll try.”

“As long as we’re in this together, this’ll be Tara, the one you always wanted…” ‘Cillian pulls Mandra close to him as they return to the hideout’

“Hah… wouldn’t go to places listening to story tellers all day… I’m sorry for dragging you into this…” ‘Mandra exclaims as the two pass down into the cellar’

‘Cillian sighs as the two walk towards the secret door, a small smile spread over his face’

“Molly… shut the hell up” ‘He pushes the secret door open’

‘Into a new tomorrow’

Chapter Text

Finally, I’ve found Tara

Reinforcements

‘Belfast County, Dublinn’s forces clashing with a Victorian patrol force’

‘Crows caw upon the grounds’

‘Casualties: One hundred and twenty Dublinn soldiers’

‘Eight Victorian soldiers’

‘The sky burns with distant grey clouds, trees loom with bright green leaves, bird fly up in the distance as wheels roll through the rough dirt pathway’

‘The trees grow sparse, replaced with stumps replacing them near hastily put together Dublinn camp, soldiers carrying logs, wild animals, or eachother’

“Criminal.” ‘One of the Dublinn soldiers, an elite by stature alone calls out for the convoy leader’

‘A worn down hood cloaks both his head and upper torso, the washed out sigil of Dublinn sitting next to the hilt of a long purple blade, a cream coloured tail flowing back and forth as the man sat on the side of a cart’

“Yes, what do you wish to know?” ‘The spiked outfit donning Dublinn member asks, adjusting his mask’

“Death looms in this place.” ‘The soldier replies, his words echo cold below the round, scratched up mask baring a triangle shape on it’

“Precisely why we’ve been sent here… Plus because The Bandit finds this fool particularly… Useful.” ‘The Criminal retorts, getting off of the cart, patting the burdenbeast carrying them’

“Beats our previous occupation!” ‘A Taran explains, lazing above the reserved Dublinn elite, an armoured helmet with a metallic horn in its middle, dulled spikes on his left shoulder, compared to the round masked baring sharp spikes on their right’

‘A large shield rest on the pile of boxes upon which the burly elite lays upon, their bashed and battered plate chestplate shining below the Dublinn cloth’

‘The Dublinn camp grows silent as the carts make their way inside the tent collection’

‘A small Taran caster, short black hair, their uniform faded and taken on a slight greenish hue’

‘They tap their thin staff against the ground as the earth in front of her rises to meet the Criminal eye to eye’

“Well well! Reinforcements came early!” ‘The Feline caster says, continuing to tap her staff against the ground as chunks of rock slowly rotate around her’

“Tidings! Mandragora I presume?” ‘The Criminal gives a small bow to the small Feline’

“Aye, and you would be?” ‘Mandragora taps the ground with her staff, cubical cracks forming around her staff’s impacts in the earth as she walks’

“It is I, The Elocutionist of the six, the promoter of Dublinn’s ideals-” ‘The pompous explanation of The Elocutionist, hand at his chest and flaunting his officer uniform’s cape, only for Mandragora to sarcastically clap’

“Uh-huh, so you’re the one The Bandit kept talking about back in the city, why should I care?” ‘Mandragora asks, uninterested as the camp begins to return to work once more’

“... I, the spokesperson of the Six Criminals have come baring reinforcements, Dublinn’s finest companion pair, and a moderate footsoldier regiment.” ‘The Elocutionist sighs, a tone heavily exasperated’

“Have you brought food? We don't particularly have much and foraging only works when the dogs of Victoria aren’t prowling the woodline too” ‘The Feline caster explains, not any more amused than before’

“...” ‘The Elocutionist, even through the Dublinn mask manages to produce a stare that asks the question “Why did I even come here”’

“Well, we did bring burdenbeasts…” ‘The shield bearing Dublinn soldier exclaims, patting one of the cart carriers’

“Good! Well, we’ll bloody take it! Now make yourselves comfortable…” ‘Mandragora extends her hand before her comms device begins humming, a small radio attached to her uniform’

‘Ksssh’ “Commander- the- the scout force is eliminated I- I-” ‘The radio yells out with a distressed tone, clearly heard by both Dublinn officers’

“Err… have we arrived at an inopportune time, Lady Mandragora?” ‘The Elocutionist asks, awkwardly shuffling’

“Grr… bloody noble lap dogs wanting another bite- You, get your men comfortable I’ll need to- I’ll need to check on my forces.” ‘Mandragora clicks the radio off and slams her staff to the ground, the earth bends to her will, raising her off the ground’

Chain reaction  

‘A large blade red with Taran blood looms below a hill overlooked by a sea of masks blocking the faces of those the sole vanguard faces’

“Your brethren lay in mass graves, and still you march to your deaths? Like cattle herded by a cruel wolf!” ‘The Victorian shouts at the silent crowd while patrolling the bodies of the Dublinn vanguard, the blade strewn over his shoulder as he eyes the crowd of different mask shapes and orientations’

‘The spectre force general floats her way up the hill to see the holdup’s reason’

“Ugh… what a chore, another insane lunatic coming to die…” ‘Mandragora says with an unamused look at the well prepared Victorian, their plated armor and closed faced helmet on their belt, showing off his Lupo features out of prideful ignorance’

“C- Commander Mandragora… we didn't hear back from the vanguard due to… this…” ‘A meek footsoldier speaks up as the caster lowers herself to the ground and takes out a comms device’

“Another day, another bloody lunatic… Alright, let’s do this…” ‘She pockets the comms device before gripping her staff and raising it into the air, she begins to chant’

“Through the nine hells I ask of thee, fuck this bitch up like a flea” ‘She mumbles her chant,  anger fueling the staff into an amber hued hum’

‘From the hill escapes grotesque, rough in shape and made of mostly clay’

‘The group looks at Mandragora’s Arts in amazement as the rocky beast darts towards the supposed one-man-army’

‘Beckoned by the grotesque, he raises the blade, the hilt shining with an odd looking guard, he grabs the helmet, strapping it on before he braces for impact’

‘The grotesque bashes into the Victorian, clashing against his guard before being pushed to the side causing it to tumble’

‘Quickly retaliating from crashing into dirt, the grotesque turns back expanding its lofty wings whilst releasing a mute howl’

‘As it charges to the Victorian once more, the jaws expand making a fine place for the longsword to strike, the hilt bursts open with steam as it explodes in a clash against the summon of the Taran caster’

‘All that remains after the mist of steam is rubble and the proud stance of the lone swordsman, arms wide open accepting further challenge’

‘Mandragora grits her teeth’

“Commander…” ‘The footsoldier tries to comment but is quickly interrupted by a sigh of the caster’

“I see it clear as day, here, take this bloody radio to tell the squads that they should standby” ‘Mandragora tosses the comms device to the soldier, almost dropping it in surprise’

“C- commander it could be an ambush!” ‘A soldier cries out to Mandragora, only retorted with a growl by the impatient caster’

‘Reaching behind his back, the Victorian hits his hilt, two cylinders falling out of it before he reloads them in a brutish fashion’

“Ah, so it’s you who they send to die first” ‘The Victorian shouts as he stabs the blade into the earth’

“Whatever makes you sleep well once you’re nothing but pulp.” ‘The Taran replies, her staff glowing amber and humming with malice’

“Hmph, what’s that, new toy by your noble handler?” ‘Mandra smirks before opening her palms, four columns of stone bursting from the ground’

“Hah! Rich coming from the Dublinn dog coming to be executed” ‘The Victorian stands back up and begins to make his advance towards Mandragora, his blade tipped towards her in a straight guard’

“Hmph, you’ll die ignorant, just like most of us soldiers.” ‘The Feline sends the first column darting towards the swordsman’

‘Clash’

‘The blade meets the column of rocks and with the swift motion of his hand, gets deflected to the side, kicking up dust as the knight breaks into a dash towards the caster’

“Sonofa-” ‘Mandra’s staff begins to hum more rapidly as the second column darts towards the Victorian’

‘Blast’

‘Steam ejects from the blade as it meets the obstacle, completely destroying the rubble as he continues to dash forth’

“IS THIS WHAT MY BROTHERS FELL TO?” ‘The swordsman screams towards the Taran in frustration, rushing everso closer’

‘Crush’

‘The third column strikes, too close to avoid it, bashing into the Victorian’s chest, causing the plated armor to gain an unnatural dent, the swordsman screams in pain as he dashes onwards’

“DIE!” ‘The Lupo swordsman leaps up to deliver a devastating strike, the second cylinder foaming with a heavy layer of steam’

“What the hell is he–” ‘The last column breaks into small chunks as a rock shield quickly forms in the way of the blade and Mandragora’

‘CLASH’

“The Taran and the Victorian lock eyes the moment blade meets rock, the steam ejects in a blast shattering the rock shield but knocking the blade back along with sending the rather aerodynamic caster flying”

“*Gasp* *Gasp* *Wheeze*” ‘The Victorian staggers back, holding his chest’

“Ghk– You–” ‘Mandragora looks back up at the swordsman, disoriented by the powerful blow’

‘She can hear the weighted footsteps come closer

“FOR Dublinn!” ‘She hears her kinsmen shout before her eyes get illuminated by Taran flames engulfing the Victorian, the Flamerazer division charging in around while she herself gets dragged away from the battlefield’

“Let– me go!” ‘Mandragora shouts at her comrades trying to break free but to no avail’

‘She can see the silhouette of the Victorian in the flames, he’s raising his sword’

“NO… LET ME-” ‘Mandragora breaks her hand away and tries to rush towards the Flamerazers, her staff pulsing with a vibrant orange glow dominating the previously amber hue’

‘An orchestra of humming flamethrowers fill her ears before suddenly turning into a booming orchestra as the Victorian ignites one of their gas cans as a final strike, the Flamerazers blow up one by one desperately trying to rid themselves of their backpack or running away, all one could make out is the faint outline of the one-man-army’

‘The Victorian silhouette staggers back, hesitantly striking the blade into the ground, slumping down alongside it’

“No… no no NO! GOD DAMMIT! WHY DID I-” ‘Mandragora screams out in anger as she quickly summons an array of stone columns to turn the Victorian into paste before hesitating, her eyes glued to a second silhouette rising behind the curtain of oblivion’

‘The remnant look of a broken backpack, the severed tubing of the flamethrower in the hands of a man charging at the tower that had claimed a whole division’

“What the…” ‘Mandragora mutters under her breath more so flabbergasted than angry for a moment’s notice’

‘The sound of metal against metal echo above the roaring flames as the Victorian’s helmet flies out of the inferno’

“Bloody lunatic...” ‘Mandragora wipes her anger before clenching her fist in a more controlled order, sending the columns of stone flying towards the inferno, carving a path out of the flames’

‘The sole survivor quickly trudges through, with his final steps raising his now dented in flamethrower into the sky to the surprising cheer of the Dublinn comrades behind Mandra’

“Captain Mandragora-” ‘She can remember the voice from the hill, she shakes in anger’

“What the bloody hell did I order...”

“I- err…” ‘The soldier hesitates to answer’

‘The Flamerazer scampers away from the inferno before collapsing to the ground, Dublinn soldiers rushing in to bring him back to camp’

“... They died for nothing… bloody nothing… by me allowing some good for nothing– ack… don't blame yourself” ‘Mandragora tries her bestest to control her anger before her eyes glue to the sword stanced within the core of burning remnants, a metallic glint shining through the small gateway dug out with a sea of stone’

“Captain Mandragora, they… charged in as soon as you got injured– no one commanded them to…” ‘The Dublinn soldier continues to speak hesitantly’

“Bah! Me? Hurt? What the bloody hell… I’m no reason to go out of order for… I'm not The Leader…” ‘She says, the anger directed towards her own actions’

“Captain Mandragora… without you guiding us we’d be lost… they–” ‘The soldier tries to continue’

“Back to camp… we’ll tally up the dead unless a Victorian platoon makes their way here first.” ‘She hesitantly says before walking her way back up the hill, her tail low to the ground along with her head stuck downward’

Oripathy 

“There there… just don't bloody move, will ya?” ‘Mandragora forms a rocky bandage around a bleeding soldier’s leg, they wince in pain, going ignored by the officer’

“Commander Mandragora.” ‘A Dublinn scout reports from behind her, their mask a bit scratched up and their Refraction wavering’

“The coast is clear, Victorian soldiers withdrew.” ‘His exhausted tone exclaims as he adjusts his mask’

“Good, good, we’re meeting our quota then! I’m sure The Leader will appreciate us being efficient” ‘She smiles widely whilst standing up to stretch’

‘Bang’

‘A loud explosion echoes through, shaking the fabric of the tent as a piece of shrapnel strikes the tent from its side, grazing through the wounded soldier’s previously intact foot’

“!! Bloody hell...” ‘Mandragora immediately lifts off as her staff hums with amber glow, pieces of rocks immediately gathering below her feet as she sets flight, darting outside of the tent to the blinding sunshine’

‘The smoldering camp swarms with Dublinn soldiers pouring towards its core, Mandragora glides through the air towards the smoke’s centerpoint’

“Don’t fail me now…” ‘She chants as she picks up speed’

‘Blast’

‘Another ear-ringing explosion fills the eyes of the Taran caster as a watchtower collapses in on itself, the rubble unsure to be Dublinn soldiers or shattered planks of wood’

‘Mandragora closes in on the source, a shining pair of goggles paired with a mask covering their whole face, bags all across their body and quickly setting foot’

‘A rock strikes the insurgent on the shoulder with force enough to send them flying forth, striking the ground with their frail body’

“Well well, another soldier trying to play hero” ‘Mandragora opens her palm as a pillar of earth rises from the ground, striking towards the bomber, crushing their arm and pinning them to the ground’

‘The Victorian yells in pain as he hastily looks to his now crushed arm then towards Mandragora, putting his still-intact hand all over for something’

“What? Didn’t expect a poor Taran girl to give chase? You barely started running!” ‘Mandra taunts, slowly lowering onto the ground, elegantly setting foot in front of the trembling insurgent as her staff’s hum dies down’

“Haa- Haa-” ‘The bomber flails his still unharmed arm around, trying to grasp at his mask’

“What? Nothing to say? Pft, keep that bloody mask on before you make me vomit.”

‘The insurgent thrashes around but the rocks around him tighten further, suffocating whilst being dragged beneath the earth’

‘The insurgent violently rummages around his waist before firmly grabbing onto a dagger, earth encroaches over his body as the soil begins to pour over his head’

‘The dagger plunges into his throat, sparing him of suffocation’

“Hiss… another one bites the dust, you won't be remembered, none of us will.” ‘The Taran says in a rather matter of fact tone before the body becomes fully submerged beneath the ground’

‘A set of weak footsteps shamble behind the caster, catching her attention along with a shiver running down her spine’

“Officer Mandra- *Cough* -gora…”

“What is it-” ‘She turns back to see a disheveled Dublinn soldier, grasping at their pierced arm pouring with dark red blood, an Originium spike making home where before, his elbow was’

“By Tara… Come, fast! We’ll get you to the tent, I'm sure there’s still some place-” ‘Mandragora dashes to catch the shambling soldier, a sickly dark gray spike sprouting from his trembling flesh’

“Don't… don’t... Commander… *cough* they used Originium bombs… I… I'm dead…” ‘His tone shaking as his eyes sprout tears flown behind their shattered Dublinn mask, their Refraction barely a glimmer in the air’

“Shut it! Let’s get you–” ‘Mandragora tries to reach for them yet again, but to no avail: it’s met by further backing off’

“Captain… there’s no space for me in Dublinn...”

‘Mandragora begrudgingly agrees, and nods her head’

“... Please… allow me to die by one of my kin and not a Victorian dog…” ‘With newfound resolve, the dead man walking rises his tone’

‘She looks at the shattered Dublinn mask, behind of it a man bleeding but with eyes full of determination, she silently nods as her staff starts to glow with an amber hue’

“What would you like to be remembered as, soldier?” ‘She asks as rocks begin to arise from the ground’

“... A fighter for home… for Tara.” ‘The soldier says with a pained smile, looking into the yellow eyes of his superior’

‘She opens her palm’

‘The rocks begin to shake, and arise through the brave fighter for home’

‘A soul freed through unjust acts’

“... *Sigh* bloody hell…” ‘The caster begins to walk back to the camp, the watchtower and the central gathering point both struck with a bomb now lay spread with sickly crystalized rocks, the watchtower, crumbled in half now decorated with a large spike of Originium where the bomb struck’ 

“We’ll need to allocate another tent for the wounded, this isn't good…” ‘She gazes across the Dublinn soldiers helping each other into the tents as Flamerazers utilize their uniform’s safety to pick out Originium from the ground’

‘A Dublinn soldier rushes up to Mandragora’

“How many are wounded from that ordeal?” ‘She asks preemptively, tapping her staff towards the ground’

“Ms. Mandragora… two have died and fifty are… wounded, the bombs struck a watchtower and one of our gathering grounds”

“... Bloody hell were they expecting to accomplish? … Tally that up to three deaths, I’ll be in the medical tent if I’m needed, whoever’s still capable of walking, make them repair the watchtower. One of you will use my grotesque to go out and find kindling, hell, make it bite a tree in two, it won't care and neither will I.” ‘Mandragora commands, her mind still angered, taking a deep breath, she returns to the medical tent’

Flames 

‘Clap clap’

‘The spiral masked caster sits by the pile of kindling, Dublinn soldiers walking out of their rest in a cranky order as a small group had already come together’

“Ahh’ ain't nothin’ like a fresh sight of walking dead, eh?” ‘The caster speaks rubbing his orange gloves in a carefree manner’

‘The one donning an officer’s uniform gazes at the cold flame and grunts’

“What? Where are your brothers, criminal?” ‘The caster chuckles to himself, poking fun at The Elocutionist’

“Hnn… this place stinks of death like a gutter” ‘He retorts, pulling his cloak close to himself’

‘Mandragora chuckles at the notion as she leans to the side with a smirk’

“Oh no, first time on the frontlines? And here I thought you, head of the ‘Six Criminals’ were meant to be of equal rank…”

“Hah! All of you suck! Anyway, care to listen to some tales?” ‘The spiral masked caster breaks up the sprouting bickering as he taps the log seating surrounding the soon-to-be flame’

“Bah! Joel, you always just tell stories about animals shitting in the woods and whatnot” ‘A Dublinn soldier shouts annoyedly from the back’

“So? Have any better ideas or maybe you should be the one learning The Leader’s Arts to get flames going!” ‘The caster retorts, his voice reeking of insecurity’

“Just get on with it already, Evocator.” ‘Mandragora waves her hand at Joel’

“Fine fine, so who here heard of the tale of the Greedy dragon of Victoria?” ‘The Evocator begins to rub his hands once more’

‘A collective sigh is heard from the group as the mind-numbing tale begins, the voice of the caster being drowned out by Mandra’s mind as she taps the muddy ground with her staff’

‘She looks into the distance of the campgrounds, the holdout is soon to reach its end, many tents had already been put onto carts and ready to be carried off’

‘Bloom’ 

‘The hands of the Evocator burst into flames’

“Aha! And such burned the flames of the righteous dragon of Tara!” ‘Joel says triumphantly as he steps up and puts his hands into the kindling, the fire of his hand expands onto into a beautiful roaring flame’

“You’re gonna scare off the fresh meat if you keep using your gloves as your staff” ‘One of the Dublinn soldiers say’

“If they are scared of a little razzle dazzle then I don't know what the first Victorian they see on field will do to their psyche” ‘He cackles, shaking his gloves off of remnant flame, re-seating himself’

“Hmph, The Leader taught you that?” ‘The Elocutionist asks, using his hand to prod his head up’

“Ya bet! First thing I used it for was dinner. I had to eat coal for the whole week once my house burnt down!” ‘The caster replied nonchalantly as the fire drew a larger crowd’

“What a bloody dumbass…” ‘Mandragora sighs whilst tapping the ground’

“Well s’cuse you but a city dweller like me didn't really have much other ways to experiment their Arts” ‘Joel replied accusatively’

“You were already in Dublinn, learning from The Leader herself and still living in your own dinghy home? Do you ever think or is it just tales about different animals eating each other all day?” ‘Mandragora asks exasperated’

“Ghk- that’s it! No tales for anyone tonight!” ‘The Evocator storms off in frustration’

“Hmph, how many Evocators are in this regiment?” ‘Asks the Elocutionist’

“We started with twenty, four deserted, rest almost all died. Joel is the last man insane enough to have a smile behind that mask… I can tell.” ‘Mandragora scoffs, her amber eyes meeting the flames of Dublinn in form of a gentle roaring flame’

“Bah, if that spiral mask tells me anything it’s that he’s too far gone, suppose there’s no other place for a man like him anyways” ‘A Flamerazer says while seating himself where the storyteller once made his podium of boring history stories’

“Hmph, you… were the one who took the special agent out, aren’t you?” ‘Mandragora looks at the man and his newly refurbished gas canister’

“Aye, a fair clonk on his head and the helmet came off with a chunk of his nose! Bastard didn't expect me to trudge on!” ‘The Flamerazer's tone triumphant, recounting the tale of war’

“How… did you not explode? Sir...” ‘The meek Dublinn foot soldier asks the war scorched flamethrower fighter’

“Lemme tell ya a secret, I forgot to fill my backpack!” ‘He chuckles to himself’

“...” 

“...”

“You incompetent piece of s-” ‘Mandragora gets cut off by the Flamerazer’

“Hey now, commander, I DID get the job done” ‘The Flamerazer beams with pride’

“No objections there but you are still a grade A dumbass” ‘Mandragora said, frustrated’

“Or an oracle.” ‘The Elocutionist rebutted, belligerent holding onto his uniform’

“And who asked for your input? This is my battalion, ain’t yours… we can’t be half equipped and blame dumb luck for our efforts, we are the SPECTRE force goddamnit!” ‘Mandragora’s word spat out like venom towards her supposed equal, the uniforms meaning less and less as the fiery Feline caused silence to spread across the gathering grounds’

Brazen glaze 

‘Sizzling fills the ears of the cantine residents, their hunger soon to be sated by the cooks’

‘The shine of their worn down flamethrower adorned with a noticeable dent in its side, below it, a scratched up backpack, the wounded cook hastily swirls the pot of soup and flips the meats seated upon a hotstone’

“Joel, work that grill already!” ‘He screams at the spiral masked Evocator’

“I am, I am! Don't you see my gloves BLASTING flames at it?” ‘The caster says, a small stream of sparks spewing out of his hands’

“Sure you do, if you’re trying to lightly season the wood I've gathered! Those flames couldn’t even light a fuse!” ‘The Flamerazer says annoyedly, swirling the pot of soup’

“Try casting flames all day long and suddenly the idea of the purifying flames of Dublinn tends to you know… Die down?” ‘Joel says before being hit on top of the head by the wooden ladle’

“OWIE!” ‘Joel yelps out holding his head almost frying it with the stream of sparks’

“... Are you two done yet?” ‘Mandragora asks the bickering pair of kitchen staff before a Dublinn member puts a hand on her shoulder’

“At least they are putting on a good show, commander.” ‘One of the recent reinforcements says, their large shield donned on his back, a belt strewn across with an assortment of jerky, mystery pouches, and a little cat figurine on a chain’

“That they do alright…” ‘She mutters, glaring towards the flame duo’

‘The stone caster growing tired of their antics, begins to walk out of the tent, passing by the people awaiting food both inside and beside the tent, an exasperated sigh pairing her light steps’

‘Outside the tent stands an imposing figure gazing out to the starry sky, their blade glowing with a slight purple light whilst soldiers pass along him’

‘Mandragora walks around, observing the Dublinn elite paying no mind to her’

‘Atop his belt, an assortment of different vials, a notebook, some jerky and a horn attached to him by a chain’

“Hmph, a Shadowblade eh? Didn’t expect The Leader to assign bloody companion knights to my group!” ‘Mandragora remarks to the stargazing Dublinn elite, taking a deep breath of the cold evening air’

“General.” ‘The Shadowblade turns to his side and kneels before the girl’

“Eh? What the bloody hell are you doing?” ‘Mandragora asks, tapping her staff to the ground before a pebble strikes the Shadowblade in the shoulder’

“I’m showing my devotion to Dubl-”

“You kneel to The Leader, not me you git! By Tara… to think I got lucky and all I'm getting is more dimwits… What even happened to be reassigned, kinsmen?”

‘Before the Shadowblade could respond a large yell is let out of the tent’

‘Splash’

“THE SOUP! THE BLOODY SOUP!”

“NOOOO!!”

“At least we still have the me- NOOO!!”

‘The sounds of abject horror echo from the cantine shaking the fabric of the nearby tents’

“...” ‘This far, none of the spectre force had heard their officer sigh louder and longer before, like a steam knight of old being deployed for combat’

“Bloody hell… no rest for the wicked.” ‘Mandragora walks back to the tent, entering among the shocked crowd, seeing the pot of soup pushed over and the hot stone tossed to the ground with an open flame now extinguished’

“You bloody nob you!! Can’t even properly cast flames with those flimsy hands!” ‘The Flamerazer yells at the spiral masked caster’

“Well atleast I can produce a spark unlike you!” ‘He retorts with equal animosity’

“I had enough of your antics, stupid stories and deranged ramblings!”

“Oh so you hate my stories too?! I bet you couldn’t even cook! Especially after the great blaze of the rocky meadow”

“Oh now you’re just asking for it!”

‘Aside with the meat now laying in a puddle of freshly made soup, the two cooks turn having a verbal disagreement to a physical altercation’

“AHEM.” ‘Mandragora hits her staff’s tip to the ground before a stone pillar tears the tent’s flooring up, separating the two bickering Dublinn aside’

“You two, to your tents.” ‘She says with genuine anger’

‘The Evocator and the Flamerazer alike obey to the caster half their size without hesitation, hastily walking away in mutual defeat’

“Well… what now?” ‘One of the Dublinn soldiers ask’

“Suppose we… lap it up?” ‘Another one suggests’

“Absolutely not! Last thing we want is for everyone to get sick!” ‘Mandragora hastily shoos the hungry mass away from the tent, before looking at the spilt soup for a moment’

“... Commander?” ‘A burly voice speaks from outside the tent’

“To your tents, as I said.” ‘The caster replies quietly, looking at the destruction, the rocky pillar sinking back into the floor’

‘Ignoring her request, the tall knight, shield adorning his back enters the tent’

“Don't. Eat. The. Bloody. Soup.” ‘Mandragora commands as she still looks towards the messed up cantine’

“We’d like to err… take over.” ‘The Shieldbearer says, the Shadowblade looming over his shoulder’

“No- err, wait what?” ‘The Feline looks up dumbfounded towards the two companion knights’

“We used to make food for our regiment before that day…” ‘The Shadowblade’s voice dies down as the topic of their past comes up’

“It’s okay Mido, we’ll try our best! Just show us where the food stock is” ‘The Shieldbearer speaks up, patting the shoulder of the Shadowblade’

“Behind the tent, there’s a ditch dug out into a makeshift cellar. Don't expect much though, supplies haven't come in a good while.” ‘She replies, tapping the hot stone as her Arts effortlessly lifts it back to order’

“Good, good. I’ll go get whatever I can, you help the boss.” ‘The companion knight says waving off whilst leaving the tent’

‘The Shadowblade nods and goes over to the pot trying to lift it up’

“What the bloody hell are you doing?”

“Lifting the pot.” ‘The Shadowblade replies matter of factly’

‘Mandragora sighs and waves her staff around’

“Step off before you pull your back.”

‘An imposing stomping is heard in front of the tent before a large hunk of stone pushes the entrance tarp aside. The cracked head of the grotesque slowly makes its shape within the cantine, its lofty body moving towards the pot’

‘The Shadowblade instinctively draws his blade and strikes the gargoyle’

‘CLASH’

“Hey! The hell’s that for?” ‘Mandra yells out in reaction to both the blade and the grotesque recoiling’

‘The Shadowblade looks towards the Dublinn officer with a panicked eye, they just stare towards Mandragora, too scared to move’

“It doesn't bite, if it calms your nerves.” ‘Mandragora replies going to the gargoyle and patting its head now adorned with another well defined crack’

‘The grotesque gently pushes its master aside as its wings lodge  below the knocked over pot, raising its rocky form pushing the pot upwards with ease, as it begins to tip over the caster rushes to the opposite side in an attempt to counteract gravity’

“Shitshitshitshitshit” ‘She says quickly as she fails providing even the smallest bit of pushback’

‘The Shadowblade grabs the pot, stopping it with ease’

“Commander.” ‘The Shadowblade speaks up out of concern’

“Phew… welp, that wasn't planned, thank you…” ‘Mandragora lays against the pot, panting’

‘The companion knight opens the tent tarp bringing a punch of spices strewn across his shield and carrying a whole burdenbeast carcass’

“Alright here’s all I could scrounge u-oh god what the fuck is that?” ‘The companion knight damn near falls over, too sudden to have his voice sound out in terror’

“It's my grotesque”

“It’s a gargoyle.”

‘The two reply simultaneously as they stand over the pot’

“Does it bite?” ‘The Shieldbearer asks without missing a beat’

“No.” ‘Mandragora replies bluntly’

“Cool, Mido, got the kitchen ready?”

‘The Shadowblade looks to the side’

“Err…” ‘The Shadowblade looks around momentarily’ “Yes… I just have no way to start a fire.”

“Pfft, like that’s an issue! Let’s just find the Evocator or the Flamera… right… right.”

‘The two look to the side to see the flamethrower and the backpack still strewn up to the side’

“Well, I'm sure he won’t mind” ‘The companion knight says nonchalantly walking up and taking the equipment’

“Just don't burn the cantine down, the last thing we need is to lose two of our elite ops before seeing any action.” ‘Mandragora says exasperated whilst tapping the staff against the Tombkeeper grotesque’s head and drawing its attention to follow her’

“You can count on us, commander!” ‘The Shieldbearer says confidently as they begin to ignite the kitchen once more whilst Mido begins to cut the burdenbeast up’

‘Her headache lessening just a small bit, the Taran caster leaves them to their business to enjoy the evening air peppered with smoke and the many tears shed from the pot of soup’s fall’

‘She sits down, hearing a sound to the side, the two star cooks hastily bringing whatever they could find towards the cantine tent’

“The hell’s you two idiots doing?” ‘Mandragora stops the Evocator and the Flamerazer’

“We uhh- umm- uhh… got what we could to make a new pot of soup!” ‘The spiral masked caster replies spilling a bit of water from their rusty bucket’

“Don’t bother, the new guys seem to already pull their weight ten-fold.” ‘Mandragora says annoyedly’ 

“Did I hear water splashing?” ‘The Shieldbearer looks out of the tent almost as soon as Mandragora finished her sentence’

“Err.. ye-”

“Gimme.” ‘The companion knight yanks the bucket of water from the Evocator’

“A- whuh-” ‘Joel is dumbfounded by the sudden action’

“Need some spices with that?” ‘The Flamerazer asks’

“What spices?” ‘The Evocator looks over to the Dublinn elite’

“Right here-” ‘He looks down at his hands to find nothing’

“Oh, it seems like Mido needed them.” ‘The man says carrying the water back into the tent’

“The hell?!” ‘He looks around even more dumbfounded’

“He’s pretty good at going unnoticed, damn fast too” ‘The knight returns to the tent, moving the tarp away just so the two stooges could see the Shadowblade heavy at work with the Flamerazers spices strewn behind him’

“They… can do that now!?” ‘He says in disbelief’

“Welp… seems like we’ll never be on kitchen duty again.” ‘Joel replies melancholically’

“You know, you weren't that awful at what you’ve done, I mean hell, I sure couldn't cast flames like you…” ‘The Flamerazer pats the back of the Evocator’

“Yeah sure, but the moment I start telling my tales–”

‘Mandragora shakes her head and drives the gargoyle away’

“You two can stop bickering, stay here and alert the group when they are done cooking.” ‘She says tiredly, patting the top of the grotesque’s head’

Chapter Text

The Six Criminals

The Elocutionist

“No… No no no, YOU haven’t seen her in action, I don’t give SHITE what The Bandit has been telling you, this woman is COMPLETELY deranged!” ‘The Elocutionist screams into his radio’

‘The tent, hastily put together, trying to resemble a Victorian office, candlelit with a makeshift coffee distillery’

“Woooow~ You guys do know that these comms are connected to all six of us right?” ‘Another voice joins in the static cavalcade’

“First of all, how DARE you call her deranged?! Have you seen what The Convict did?” ‘Another, way more hurt voice joins in’

“How hurtful.” ‘A deadpan voice responds to the hurt one’

“Oh yeah? You really think she’s all that and more, don’t you Bandit? How about I propose something for all of you?” ‘The Elocutionist’s tone drops to somewhere between having a midlife crisis and a mental breakdown’

“The Accountant sure loves gambling~ I’m sure he’d be up for it no matter the case” ‘The jolly voice sounds out on the radio’

“Alright, shoot, what do you want, Elocutionist?” ‘The hurt voice responds’

“I already spent two, almost three days with this lunatic out of my pocket, the moment I arrived shit already hit the fan with them almost dying to a single Victorian, so… how about each one of you just take her up for one mission, who knows? Maybe this’ll shut you up about your fanaticism” ‘The Elocutionist replies in a shaky tone full of anger’

“You’re missing the point… We want more people to betray her, right? I’m not head over heels for her, she can be helped by us!” ‘The hurt voice replies to The Elocutionist’s anger’

“I do not care. Are you willing to take the deal?” ‘The Elocutionist asks, his rage far overboiled’

“Yes. I’m sorry comrades, but I’m willing to give her a chance” ‘The hurt voice says hesitantly’

“Oh hell yeah~ I get to be around fellow officers so sparsely, can’t wait!” ‘The Jolly voice interjects’

“I’m only agreeing because this sounds like absolute cinema.” ‘A calculated voice joins into the chatter’

“Sorry brothers, I was busy not blowing myself up, what is the topic that we’re using our specialized comms for?” ‘A distracted voice joins the static filled frey’

“The Accountant will let you in on this later, for now, I’ll send her off to The Bandit and enjoy my peace and quiet with my own group” ‘The spokesperson replies before turning off his comms entirely’

“Huff… This bloody git…” ‘The Elocutionist slumps down at his desk’

“What was that about?” ‘The small figure greets the criminal, standing in front of his tent’

“You bloody muppet woke up all of us!” ‘Mandragora barges into his tent’

“I- err… I do have good news! Sadly though, this place will need more units so my regiment are withdrawing from The Leader's guard and joining me here… and as for your group, The Bandit has requested aid” ‘The Elocutionist fakes a smile’

‘After a lengthy glare by Mandra, she nods’

“And why should I care?” ‘Mandra added on, still unamused at the anger filled rage this man just had inside her camp’

“Err- The Leader requested you especially to take up this role, seeing as you’ve already done invaluable service to my front, it’s only fair that an actually competent squad helps out my brothers in arms…” ‘The Elocutionist’s compliment towards Mandra exhibits a smug smile from the Feline’

“Actually competent eh? Has The Leader finally seen that light she saw way back when? Oh this is bloody awesome! Maybe once I'm done helping you poor sods out I could even become a colonel, or her personal bodyguard or- or!!” ‘Mandragora begins to fantasize about her greatness as The Elocutionist nods on with tired eyes’

“It’d be best if you packed up and left tomorrow… The Bandit has traveled a long distance, err… wait, let me find it…”

‘The Elocutionist taps around his uniform before breaking one of its spikes off’

“Huh? Why the bloody hell did you do that?” ‘Mandragora asks the criminal’

“Oh, for safekeeping… with that on you, The Bandit can signal in for you, and The Accountant can keep tabs on you in case you were to fall in a pit and whatnot…” ‘The Elocutionist explains, exasperated’

“Oh, I don’t much need it then, that sod gave me one of these before I was even stationed here” ‘Mandragora hands him back the uniform spike’

“Of bloody course he did… of bloody course.” ‘The Elocutionist returns to the slumped down posture, muttering curse words’

‘By morning, the Dublinn camp had packed up, only leaving a small outpost manned by The Elocutionist behind’

‘The grotesques began carrying the carts with their strength, marching through thick and thin’

The Bandit

“Ugh… my staff is gonna dim out by the time the grotesques make it there…” ‘Mandragora groans, sitting aboard a hoard of supplies carried by a single rocky burdenbeast’

“Commander Mandragora, we’re near…” ‘The meek Dublinn soldier proclaims looking at the distant mobile city towering over the woodline’

“So that he wasn't lying on the radio, he really just stole a mobile city…”

‘Whilst the gargoyles march closer and closer, the sound of the mobile city’s engine echoes through the woods, leaves begin to shake and as they reach closer the very trunks of the trees are vibrating’

‘Clank’

‘Suddenly, a harpoon shoots out from the treeline striking the grotesque leading Mandra’s cart in the head’

‘The harpoon bounces off without so much as a scratch’

“What the–” ‘Mandragora looks towards the rain of harpoons pelting the carts and grotesques alike with varying success’

“YARR!” ‘A raspy scream echoes out as men with fake beards and oversized hats come rushing out of the woods’

“Ah- damnit!” ‘Mandragora in retaliation shoots an array of rocks through the closest one as she leaps off the cart, landing with a slight float to slow her descent’

“NAURR-” ‘The pirate screams out as the rock flies through him, falling to the ground like a piece of rocks’

“NARR, LADS! FIRST MATE GOT KILLED! WE MUST TELL THE CAPTAIN!” ‘Another, equally as raspy scream echoes through as the men begin to make their way back, a Dublinn soldier catching one with two peg-legs’

“... Just who the hell are these blokes?” ‘The caster looks at the fleeing crowd’

“Hm, seems like the rumors of the ‘Lost flagship’ are true…” ‘A Dublinn soldier says, inspecting their harpoons in front of a grotesque before the rocky beast takes a bite out of it’

“Lost what now!?” ‘Mandra asks, dumbfounded’

“Some bandits, nothing more.” ‘The Shieldbearer hops off the nearby cart, harpoon dead center of his shield’ “Nothing but pesky Victorians trying to roleplay the Iberian sailors of old, fools is what they are” ‘He remarks, a slight disdain in his voice’

“Seems like we caught one.” ‘The Shadowblade points out, startling Mandragora briefly before turning their attention to the screaming man getting his fake beard ripped off’

“YARR I AIN’T REVEALING NO SECRETS!”

“Bob, cut off his legs.” 

“On it.”

“YARR NOT MY PRESTINE PEGGIES!!!”

“*Sigh* alright, we’ll take this ove-”

“NO, NO I’LL SAY ANYTHING JUST DONT TOUCH ME LEGGIES”

“... Alright...?” ‘The Feline retorts, taken aback by the man now screaming and in tears’

“AYE… Me servin’ under captain Toadstool, best captain in me whole loif’” ‘The pirate says in a prideful tone while being pinned down by three blades’

“Hm, and where’s this ‘Toadstool’ captain of yours?” ‘Mandragora hesitates asking, whether she wants to hear more of that terrible butcherment of the Iberian accent’

“Oh, he’s in the shoip! Ready to show why we’re the top fish in this sea!”

“Sho-ip?” ‘Mandragora asks, worried whether the man is actually having a stroke’

“Captain Mandragora- I- this man is spitting nonsense, permission to silence?” ‘The Shieldbearer asks gritting his teeth’

“Hm, you know what, sure, you’ve been good enough, doubt they’ll mind-”

“WAI-”

‘SLASH’

“Alright, shall we move on, commander Mandragora?” ‘The Shieldbearer asks, his blade painted red’

“Excessive.” ‘Mido remarks’

“Bloody excessive.” ‘Mandra remarks’

‘The goresques march forward, approaching a clearing, what forest there was now mindlessly toppled over by the gargantuan machinery’

‘The mobile city’s hum dies down as its backdoor opens down with a weightful shift of air’

‘Dublinn soldiers baring the specialized refraction of The Bandit loop upon the bridge’

“Mandragora squadron?” ‘One of the gatekeepers ask, the same make of shield donned on their side as the one worn by her own squad’s companion knight’

“Correct! Man this place is big…” ‘The Feline remarks looking at the underside of the ship, its huge engineering clearly deteriorating under the new management’

“You may visit Bandit of the six.” ‘The gatekeeper bows down to the officer’

“Your second in hand shall be taken to the residential district claimed for the stay.” ‘The gatekeeper says before putting his shield out to the would-be-following gargoyle, almost breaking his arm as the rocky beast stops moving a bit too late’

“Oh- err-” ‘Mandragora is caught off-guard by the realization of her barely held together group’s hierarchy’

“I shall lead the convoy.” ‘The spiral masked evocator says nonchalantly, putting his palm on the grotesque as he’s followed by the Flamerazer’

“Don’t ya worry commander, by sunset we’ll all be huddled into warm beds and sharing booze by the morn’” ‘The dented-flamethrower wielding madman smiles, expertly hopping onto the grotesque while adjusting his mask and backpack’

‘The caster nods as she’s led through the cold halls of the city’s underside, roads empty, only abandoned cars remaining’

“How did this place even get in our hands?” ‘Mandragora asks the Dublinn elite guard leading the way’

“Bandit of the six along with The Accountant of the six conspired to overthrow the duke of this mobile city! Paid off Catastrophe messengers to tell him of a false disaster, and as the city split up, we took over this part of it.” ‘The Dublinn soldier says with a sly smile under his mask, looking upon the largely empty street as the sunlight becomes an annoyance in Mandra’s eyes once more’

“... Huh, I don't know whether I should be impressed or call those two dumbasses for bringing Victorian rage to our front doors…”

“Fret not, Officer Mandragora, with The Leader bringing us brighter days, this mobile city shall be the seed of a new Tara!” ‘The Dublinn elite speaks out, opening his arms to the empty streets’

“More of that in stories of old, where’s The Bandit?” ‘The Feline asks impatiently tapping her shoes against the pavement’

“Oh- Right away.” ‘The Dublinn elite nods, leading the officer to the mansion dead center of the mobile city block’

“Hmph, the baron's mansion, or just some really fancy noble?” ‘The Feline asks unamused by the broken windows and old-bloodstained front garden’

“The local duke, yes. Now sent to The Leader for… questioning.” ‘The Dublinn elite replies before opening the door for the officer, stepping aside for her to make entry’

“Hmph, spacious.” ‘The Feline remarks, walking into the tiled hallway of the mansion. There stands the tall Dublinn officer, donning a crown over his mask’

“Ah, welcome Mandragora! Arrived sooner than expected, I must say.” ‘The Bandit adjusts his crown awkwardly’

“Hm, keeping on that bloody mask, what? Expecting assassins at every corner?” ‘Mandra asks, sly smirk on her face’

“Bah! No one would dare attack me in the new city of Derry!” ‘The Bandit exclaimed with the confidence a kid would have about a topic they have no knowledge about’

“Hmph, guess so, at least my men can sleep without being on lookout duty…” ‘Mandragora looks to the side to see a dent in the wall, most likely caused by the overtaking of this city block’

“Ah, while you make your stay here, how about I show you the many great views of Derry?” ‘The Bandit extends his hand towards the Taran caster’

“Hmph, sure, I doubt my gargoyles could fly this high…” ‘She retorts ignoring the hand of The Bandit and walking out the front door’

‘As the two begin to move, five or so Dublinn begin to follow them’

“Huh, your men do seem to be overprotective of you…” ‘Mandra exclaims looking back towards the Dublinn masks of five very differently shaped soldiers’

“Ah, they’re just my state appointed bodyguards of course! Making sure no one sneaks up on us.”

‘The Bandit engages in smalltalk with Mandra until they arrive to the edge of the city block, a sheer drop down without any safety measures’

“Damn… split this road in two, was this mobile city even meant to separate...?” ‘The Feline asks looking down to the internal machinery glistening in the sunlight like the entrails of a grandfather clock’

“It shall be no issue when more of Victoria will return to Tara, this city shall sprawl!” ‘The Bandit exclaims opening his arms up’

“Err… what about that...?” ‘Mandragora points to the distance’

‘Not so far from the viewpoint the two had gone to, a rapidly approaching object can be made out through the fog, huge wooden scaffoldings in front of a metallic body’

“Oh- Err, that’s no issue, they are the Lost flag- something, supposed friends of Dublinn!” ‘The Bandit proclaims’

“Hm… weird that they ambushed us while we tried to come here” ‘Mandragora mentions, remembering the horrible impressions that the pirates made’

“... Bollocks… only The Accountant and The Convict should know…” ‘The Bandit says under his breath’

“Know what?” ‘Mandra asks, getting pretty annoyed by the indirectness’

“... My platoon and the Lost flagship have been in an… err… turf war for at least half a year now, they roam this place non-stop, using that damn landship to harass whoever, Catastrophe messengers, traders, Victorian envoys… can’t hate em, they’re way more of an issue than us currently, from Victorian view that is…”

“Uh-huh, so why is that coming to us..?” ‘Mandragora asks, remembering their initial encounter… one particular word sticking out’

“Hm, might come to surrender…”

Landrats

“Err, Bandit, I do recall from my ambush we did kill someone they called the ‘First Mate’, unsure if that has anything to do with I-”

“You- YOU WHAT?!” ‘The Bandit shouts towards Mandra immediately walking past her, back towards the city block’s residential area’

“Wh- the bloody hell is the issue?!” ‘Mandra shouts after him, frustrated’

“You- agh- this means full out brawl I need to alert the gang, this aint good-” ‘The Bandit groups the five Dublinn soldiers and whispers to them before they disperse at differing speeds’

“The hell’s the issue? Last I checked they are just crazy forest hippies pretending that the woods are the deep sea..”

“Those? Those were bloody bait! They needed a reason for the captain to do something so bloody dumb-” 

“Starting to sound a lot like me, alright, I’ll go wake my men, if they got you soiling your britches, I may need to put a competitive league up to the challenge” ‘Mandragora says tauntingly as she tries to go, but forgets that she wasn't privy to where they are located’

“Hey, before-”

“Already sent Billy to alert your posse, now I- err, I’ll go.”

“Well, don’t get to see the world so high so often” ‘Mandra sighs and sits down on the edge of the mobile city, dangling her feet as she stares down to the trees’

“... Sometimes I wonder where you’re now, heh… From throwing newspapers to people’s front yards to being a spy for Dublinn… oh what I dragged you into…” ‘She lays back, seeing the sky unobstructed, makes her think back to the times of lazing on gravestones’

“Commander.” ‘The voice of the Shadowblade sneaks upon the lazing commander’

“A- whuh?! So soon?!” ‘Mandragora sits up nearly falling off the mobile city’

“Troops alerted, we will be on standby on secondary command given by Officer ‘The Bandit’.” ‘The Shadowblade exclaims in a monotone’

“Huh?! Already- but I was sure that-” ‘Mandragora tries to collect her thoughts’

“I was observing where you were led, Commander, due to my obligation as a bodyguard.”

“Bloody hell… just what spectre force branch did ya two even originate from? Worth your price in gold…”

‘Mandragora’s comment makes Mido noticeably quieter’

‘Soon, Mandragora’s gargoyles are pushed to the edge of the mobile city followed with the marching band of her men, standing proud and rather comfortable in the friendly confines of the mobile city’

“Huh, beating the fellow Dublinn on their own turf? Hah, Leader’s gonna love hearing this~” ‘Mandra says rather relaxed seeing her people’

“Reminds me of my home city, this place…” ‘The spiral masked caster claims, lazing on a grotesque’

“Hah, no wonder you’re from the city, got no strength to lift this baby” ‘The Flamerazer flips his flamethrower around showing its battlescar off’

“And you farm-raised idiots can’t do much but bash in problems with your fists!” ‘The Evocator retorts’

“Heh, some things never change…” ‘Mandra smiles at the bickering pair along with a bunch of less profoundly arguing groups of Dublinn soldiers’

“Reminder of the old days… isn't it, Mido?” ‘The Shieldbearer asks the Shadowblade before they slump over, without speaking’

‘The Bandit’s forces soon make their arrival, ten-fold that of Mandragora’s division’

“Ahem! And this day forth proud sons of Dublinn we shall no longer be the ones attacking Victorians, but be the ones to protect our homes from the dangers that may we shall face!” ‘The Bandit shouts to the crowd behind him, Mandra’s platoon looking at them rather unamused’

“And so-forth from today on, we shall sing in the name of Dublinn! In the name of The Leader!!” ‘The Bandit rouses his men into a roar before Mandra hears whispering behind her’

“... I hear them…” ‘Mido speaks quietly’

“Eh? Bloody hell is wrong with you?” ‘She pokes the Shadowblade with her staff before she hears it to, rotor blades’

‘From below arises the screaming and humming of rotor blades, a dingy piece of arts machina built on top of using whatever junk and planks of wood one could find in run-down alleyways’

“YARR HARR FIDDLE-DE-DOO!” ‘A fake-bearded man wielding four sabers greets the Dublinn army before the flying construct fires a round of booming sounds’

‘Harpoons the size of people dig into the ground of the mobile city with some aimed at bordering houses’

“LAND-HO!” ‘The man screams pointing his blade towards the Dublinn forces’

‘Mandra’s division backs off forming a basic defensive line whilst The Bandit’s forces make hold in a phalanx position’

‘Pirates begin to use the harpoons shot out, namely the ropes behind them as zip-lines to make contact with the mobile city’

‘Their saber proves to be rather easy to deal with by the phalanx force’

“Hmph, seems like the fun’s over, I wonder if…” ’Mandragora spins her staff around and points it at the makeshift pirate abode’

‘One of the grotesques begins to stretch its legs and flaunt its wings before it begins to wave them, slowly gaining momentum as it lifts off the ground’

‘It begins its ascent with forward momentum bashing through the landing pirates and knocking out a harpoon before full-body bashing into the pirate pod, sending both it and the structure hurdling into the woodline below, right into the pathway of the mobile city as its hum starts to echo once more’

“... I really didn't know what to expect” ‘One of Mandra’s men exclaims looking at the now absent pirate pod’

“Hiss… only the distraction” ‘Mandra retorts looking at the landship now far closer to the mobile city’

‘As the landship charges towards the mobile city, it soon becomes obvious that the lofty city block will not be able to move out in time’

‘As the landship gets closer and closer, to the point of men being made out on the other side, the landship breaks to the side, its momentum causing it to go perpendicular to the mobile city block’

‘The Dublinn phalanx force looks towards the now very close landship in horror, a row of intimidating cannons set up among a sea of pirates manning them’

‘Behind the group stands a tall man, wearing what seems to be a very real beard and a more size-fitting hat’

‘The man raises his hand’

‘The phalanx raise their shield’

‘The man lowers his hand’

‘The echo of cannons blasting through, a moment after the orchestra of devastating strikes against metal, brick, or people’

‘Mandra’s staff hums brightly before she raises it up trying to form a rock wall but only a small amount of earth rise due to the machinery below’

“Shit-” ‘Mandra ducks behind a gargoyle as it gets hit by a cannonball’

‘Mandra’s Shieldbearer takes a cannonball. Smoking after the impact, dragged to safety by the Shadowblade’

‘The Bandit rushes up to Mandragora as the explosions cease’

“You- You brought this on us!” ‘The Bandit shouts in frustration’

“Bloody seems like it, any ideas?” ‘Mandragora asks now leaning against a crumbled gargoyle’

“Err- I- I have an idea.” ‘The Bandit whistles and the five Dublinn soldiers who come at a moment's notice’

“lackeys! We will ride tonight!” ‘The Dublinn officer says with an unnerving tone of confidence’

“Whuh?” ‘Mandra looks to the six with a small sense of worry’

“On- THAT gargoyle!” ‘He stands up and points to one of the last, still intact grotesques surviving the cannon hail’

“So do you want me to just… order it to fly over?” ‘Mandra asked, surprised on how blindly the lackeys followed The Bandit’s orders’

‘The Bandit nodded, stretching a bit beside Mandragora’

“Wouldn’t be the craziest, I suppose.” ‘She snaps her fingers and taps her staff, the gargoyle sprouts its wings, on top of it the five lackeys’

‘As the grotesque sets flight, The Bandit puts his arm up and catches onto the foot of the beast, getting dragged across to the landship alongside them’

‘The rocky beast makes it across crashing onto the hull of the pirate ship, the lackeys dropping down with The Bandit jumping onto the tall man behind the cannon line’

‘Dublinn soldiers gather on the edge of the mobile city, observing the six bandits as they begin to tear through the pirates with efficiency’

‘The smallest lackey stabs one of the pirates in the leg before throwing them to the rather large lackey who tosses them at the the tall man’

‘The tall man knocks both The Bandit away and shrugs his own shipmate aside before stepping back and shouting’

“YARR YEW DOGS, STEP ASIDE OR…” ‘The captain waves his arms, like clockwork the ship's hull exposing to reveal…’

“YOUR FRIENDS WILL BE SLEEPING WITH THE FISHES!” ‘The pirate captain shouts, pointing at the tied up platoon of Victorian soldiers’

“Ha… HAHAHA!” ‘The Bandit begins to cackle aloud along with the lackeys and the Dublinn soldiers over the gap with good enough eyesight’

“Huh?! DO YER HAVE NO COMPASSION?!” ‘The pirate captain steps further back and grabs one of the prisoners, ripping off their cloth mouth cover’

‘Almost immediately the captive begins to shout’ “CATASTROPHE! EARTHQ–” ‘The pirate captain ties another cloth to gag the loud messenger’

“So yew are not with them?” ‘The pirate lord asks, rather surprised’

“No, jackass! Now off our turf before we make this ship into our new home!” ‘The Bandit exclaims as his lackeys had made quite the number on the pirates around them’

‘The pirates begin to chant’ “Captain’s honor!”

“This feels way too surreal…” ‘Mandragora mutter at the site, the city’s edge standing in silence’

“Yup… *cough* this is why I never want to deal with these fools again…” ‘The Shieldbearer says clutching his chest, his shield remaining intact with only a slight crack in its edge’

“Hell’s a captain’s honor?” ‘The Bandit asks, playing with his club in a menacing fashion’

“Aye’ honor of the sea’, the captain able to beat another in a one on one battle will be the one to thrive in that part of the sea-”

‘The Bandit strikes the captain during his speech’

“Then let's dance you landrat!” ‘He shouts at the imposing iberan’

‘The tall man shrugs and his left arm dislodges’

‘As the arm falls off, in a woodlike clatter, the absence of it shows the barrel of a cannon’

“What the–” ‘The Bandit mutters before dashing to the side’

‘The arm blows a hole where The Bandit stood moments before, as the vagrant of Dublinn charges towards the captain-’

‘CLONK’

‘The Bandit bounces on the metallic surface of the cannon barrel, followed by the landship before the captain walks over to a cannonball, throwing it up into the air’

‘Shoop’

‘The cannon ball slides down the chute of the captain’s arm’

‘The Bandit looks to the captain standing behind him, eyes darting around the metallic battlefield, he begins to crawl, no, scamper’

‘He grabs onto the arm which the captain abandoned, wood, as expected’

‘The captain hears the pained grunts of the rival, he steps around and aims the cannon at him’

‘The Bandit with all his might stabs the wooden arm into the captain’s weapon’

‘The Bandit shoves with all his might before falling backward’

‘BLAST’

“The cannon jams, the blast sending it flying off of the captain as it lands to the side; the cannonball rolling out”

“Ha… HAHA!” ‘The Bandit looks at the captain, his hands shaking’

“... Pft. Calls me a landrat and dares to win… Aye’ a captain’s honor is to respect the outcome’” ‘The captain spits to the ground and waves the nub of his arm to the crows nest’

“... I definitely need a good sleep after this…” ‘Mandragora groans at the lunacy that just underwent’

“... Thought we were the weird ones.” ‘The Flamerazer remarks’

“That… err… that captive… did you hear what they shouted about?” ‘The meek soldier asks Mandragora’

“Something something earthquake? Sorry, the bloody cannons pretty much made me deaf on the left.”

“... A- a Catastrophe is approaching! We- we have to tell The Bandit! This- this is-” ‘The meek guard begins to panic’

“Jeez, the hell’s going on with you? Catastrophe left you an orphan?” ‘Mandra asks the meek Dublinn soldier, her staff humming to reassemble the grotesque, using the cannonball as its new head’

“No.. I- I studied Originium back at home… this is no joking matter this could wreck this place in two!” ‘The meek soldier says with certainty’

“Hm I’ll tell him you bloody apocalypse planner… now!” ‘She stands up, putting her hands onto her sides’ “Can I be shown just where the hell we’re meant to stay for our standby?”

The Toxicologist

‘Deep green haze sprawls across the streets of the small Victorian town of Fenland, people trying to crawl back to their homes as they dared to walk out for their morning routine’

‘gargoyles overwhelm those Victorian guards not taken out by the poisonous fog, green goggles glisten in dreadful streets, specters of deterioration’

“Windows boarded up, unsure how long this’ll take…” ‘The bartender says shaking his head as him and what little patrons managed to stay inside, huddled to the bar whilst the green mist formed beneath their feet’

‘The man in the corner donning a pale robe, two big antlers sprouting from their knightly helmet stands up’

“Aye’ need a last drink, sir?” ‘The bartender asks depressedly looking at the greenish floor eating away at their boots’

“... Last time I saw haze like this was back in Ursus… black snow, no, only a putrid mockery of it.” ‘He muttered in a deep tone, unclicking his side, a mace-like weapon dislodging with its head falling to the ground, floorboards breaking as it bashes against them in a weighty slam, a thick chain leading up to his hand in which an engraved handle, firmly grasped with pale metal gauntlets’

“Sir- Please don’t-” ‘The bartender tried to plead with the tall Elafia moving towards the door’

“It’s the oath I took, to cleanse the filth, to cleanse the evil.” ‘He chants as a sour smelling smoke begins to emanate from his weapon, the golden mist overtaking the greenish haze as the man holds the head of the weapon in one hand, the handle in the other, he kicks the door to face death’

‘His golden mist purifies the street as the rotten moss regrows in a moment's notice’

‘Dublinn Mistwatch begin to flee at the sight of the radiating knight’

“Hmph, is this all that there is? Rats amuck their stench.” ‘He asks looking up above the buildings, in the distance a small silhouette can be made out, they raise something before a crash echoes beside the paladin’

‘A large body of stone hurdles through the alley, its rocky body bashing into the other side destroying a storefront whilst its empty gaze follows the movements of the Elafia’

‘The paladin steps forth letting the head of the flail fall to the ground before he begins to spin the handle around’

‘The gargoyle readjusts and opens its wings releasing a howl before charging the tall man’

‘CLASH’

‘The beast’s maw opens as it’s halted from its charge by the steadfast Elafia’

‘The tall man pulls his hand back, the flail’s head scraping against the ground’

‘SHOVE’

‘The grotesque’s mouth violently meets the handle of the weapon before the tall man pulls his gauntleted hand back, reaching down for the golden orb extruding the purifying mist’

“Let the light…”

‘BASH’ ‘The flail’s head meets the head of the grotesque, a burst of healing mist leaving behind small crack on its head’

“Purify…”

‘BASH’ ‘The orb releases a puff of purifying smoke in the man’s hand, breaking off a part of the grotesque’s face’

“YOU!”

‘CRACK’ ‘A puff of purifying mist erupts as the Elafia paladin bashes the orb against the grotesque for the third time, a large flash swallows the creature of rock; a moment after only rubble remains’

‘The paladin pulls the handle back, holding the orb up as he looks around the street, surrounded on both ends by the green goggles’

‘Clap’

‘Clap’

‘Clap’

“I suppose The Geomancer’s spawn had shown to be improper to handle a brute such as yourself~” ‘The rancid words echo through the silent street as a purple tinted pair of goggles step forth from the group’

“Hmph, vile beasts like these are stuck in eternal peril. I take no opinions from someone who spreads their hate through filth.” ‘The tall man says sternly, letting the orb loose once more, hitting the ground next to a skeleton, one of countless which paint the street in a grim fashion’

“As long as my light leads, as long as my journey has a road, I shall purify its stench, I shall…”

“More of that in heaven for you~ That burner you carry sure keeps safe from my mist… I must compliment its maker~” ‘The Toxicologist cackles as he steps forth, sickly green Refraction around him as his shape can be made out through the ever-thickening haze’

“... Through the towers of Leithanien I shall prove my worth.” ‘The Elafia man starts to march towards the Dublinn officer, he raises the handle and begins to spin the flail around sending the mist clean off the street, leaving The Toxicologist standing in front of certain death’

“Oho~ Seems like the right time to test my new blend!” ‘The Toxicologist cackles as he throws a vial of bright purple liquid up’

‘The vial shatters as the flail’s head hits it, sending a cascade of heavy fog bursting outward’

‘The paladin steps back holding his arm up to his helmet’s opening’

“What? Do you feel your vision growing blurry? Oh PLEASE give me detail as you experience your tendons growing distant~ Tell me your suffering~ Let me hear them~” ‘The Toxicologist’s tone grows almost childlike watching the Paladin step back, the cleansing mist failing to even remotely dig a pathway in the deep purple poison’

“Ghk– No… I-” ‘His body trembles before one of his antlers falls off, turning to dust as it lands next to his rapidly rusting greaves and decomposing cobblestone pathing’

“No…” ‘He mutters behind his rotting helmet as he grips the handle with all his might, he spins the flail like no other, the cleansing mist begins to work, it eats away at the poison but it’s too late’

‘It's too… late’

‘His vision begins to fade as his face seeps out from beneath the helmet and out of the breathing holes, his other antler crumbles as his legs give out’

“Yes… YES!!! My perfect… perfect formula!” ‘The Toxicologist watches the pale robes turn to nothing but dust as all that remains of the paladin are the orb, and the handle’

“Ha… HAHAHA!” ‘His maddened cackle fill the street as he too begins to back away from the poison mist eating away at the street’

Orders

‘Gazing upon the turmoil ridden streets the Taran caster looks down in an apathetic gaze’

“... Call that freak whatever, but don't call em’ inefficient” ‘She mutters, her amber eyes locked onto the greenish haze pouring through the streets along with Dublinn's Mistwatch’

‘Mandragora taps her staff before raising it up, muttering words of hate as the very trees begin to rustle with the hatching brood of grotesques’

‘The rocky beasts of siege clumsily take flight towards the city eroded with poison, crashing into and in some cases through the buildings ’

“Bloody hell, this is overkill…” ‘Mandra muttered as footsteps behind her hastily made impact with the mud, joining her on a highrise’

“Commander! Commander!” ‘The hoarse tone of Joel yelps out as he nearly slips on the muddy ground whilst Mandragora easily walks over’

“Heh, ya sure seem worse for ware and the Victorian reinforcements haven’t even made their presence!” ‘The Feline caster chuckles at the distressed Evocator’

“No… Commander- err, it’s something else, we need to hurry!” ‘The spiral masked caster tries to rush back from whence he came from, only stopped from slipping by Mandragora tapping her staff against the ground, turning the mud into stable ground’

“Sheesh… you bloody oaf, watch where you step!” ‘The caster snarls but follows Joel reluctantly’

‘Shouts pierce through the supposedly empty forest’

“These people ain’t soldiers, ain’t spies, ain’t nothing but civilians!” ‘The man wearing a red accented gas mask shouts to the one baring a green accented one’

“Hand them over. They will notify Victorians.” ‘The Mistwatch replies coldly, eyeing the two women huddled into a tree’s alcove, the mother holding the daughter’s head close’

‘As the two casters make their way to the situation, Joel nods to the Flamerazer, stepping aside allowing the captain to look upon the situation’

“Well looky here, what do we have here?” ‘Mandragora puts her hands on her hip’

“Err… Commander…” ‘The Flamerazer’s voice goes meek as he steps in a defensive stance against the Mistwatch, holding his flamethrower in front of him’

“Ah, Mandragora, one of your men wants to let spies alert Victorian soldiers, this is a blatant-” ‘The Mistwatch gets interrupted by Mandragora’s clear disinterest as she eyes behind the shoulders of the Flamerazer’

“Hm, to me they seem like two women, am I missing where these ‘spies’ are?” ‘She asks looking back to the Mistwatch without much enthusiasm’

“Mandragora, they are a safety lia-” ‘The Mistwatch yet again, gets cut off’

“That is officer Mandragora to you. Now buzz off to your friends back in the city, plenty of smoke to go around.” ‘Mandragora waves off the Mistwatch before they step forwards’

“No! By the orders of The Toxicologist I will not allow- Hurk-” ‘The poisoner gets grabbed from behind’

“Commander Mandragora has ordered you to return to your officer.” ‘A Shadowblade’s mask leans down to meet the visor of the poisoner’

“Ack- Let go of me! The Leader did not authorize any of you to let prisoners go!” ‘The poisoner tries to pull his shoulder away’

“The Leader…” ‘Mandragora mutters, is she really doing the right thing, letting potentially dangerous people go?’

‘The Dublinn Shadowblade yanks the poisoner back’

‘Thump’

‘The poisoner falls into the mud grunting a little’

“Are you suggesting that commander Mandragora, an officer of Dublinn under The Leader’s blessing, isn't authorized to make a choice in Her stead?” ‘The Shadowblade speaks harshly towards the poisoner as he looms over the writhing Mistwatch

‘The Shadowblade looms even closer, his mask practically touching the gas mask of the poisoner’

“Are you… rebelling against one of Dublinn’s senior officers? Are you betraying The Leader?”

“Ack– No- No! I would never!” ‘The Toxicologist’s soldier yelps out’

‘The Shadowblade stands up, as soon as the poisoner tried to move, the purple tinted blade meets at his neck, pointing down towards kin’

“I shall only be convinced if Commander Mandragora blesses you with being ignorant and not attempting to rebel.” ‘The Shadowblade’s tone is cold as the blade traces the neck of the Mistwatch’

“Okay, Mido, bloody hell, call it off, we don't want to spill Taran blood…” ‘Mandragora steps towards the two, rubbing her temples’

‘The Shadowblade sheaths his blade and stands tall in front of the green gas-masked Dublinn’

“A Taran who betrays their very home is no Taran to live.” ‘The Shadowblade says harshly towards the poisoner, hastily getting up, rubbing his arms and muttering curse words while leaving’

“Bloody hell… at least that’s dealt with, thank you Mido… Again.” ‘The Taran caster watches The Toxicologist’s man leaves into the treeline’

‘She looks around, the Shadowblade has already left, the only people left are Joel and the Flamerazer gathered around the prisoners’

“It’s alright, you’re safe now, the bad man is gone” ‘The Flamerazer pats the head of the girl, his gas mask is off’

“Err… does this hurt, ma’am?” ‘The Evocator tries to put a bandage on the woman’s arm, clearly never being one to hold medical supplies in his life before’

“... You two done? We don't have much time, you know...” ‘Mandragora walks over to see the two women, a small girl with a middle aged lady’

“... If only all Dublinn were like… you…” ‘The woman says with a hollow tone, holding onto the bandage whilst the Flamerazer gives the girl a small pendant’

“What’s this, mister?” ‘The girl looks at the pendant curiously’

“It’s a memento, a memory of this place, of this time, hold it close, will ya? It’ll bring good luck” ‘The Flamerazer says with a smile as he pats the girls head, standing up’

“Alright ma’am, I tried to not burn the wound too much… my gloves tend to be warm, can you stand?” ‘Joel cautiously backs off as the lady stands up with little issue’

“Welp, you two should skip on ahead to the next town over before some other folk decide to make a pile of-” ‘Mandragora’s mouth gets covered by the Flamerazer, with the same smile waving the pair off’

“!!” ‘Mandra pulls the hand away’ “The bloody hell are you doing you twat?!”

“It's best not to traumatize a little girl, ain’t it, commander?” ‘The Flamerazer asks with an unnervingly happy tone’

“Err… you know what? Bloody fine, I’ll give ya that, if anything else happens just call for me at the high-rise” ‘The Feline shrugs off and begins to walk away’

“... Thank you commander.” ‘Joel says quietly’

“Thank Mido, I only stopped that bastard from turning that bloke into a feeding ground for crows”

Cowardice 

‘An empty sky illuminates the derelict campgrounds, void of light, the sounds of snoring echo through as the caster restlessly wanders around its edge’

‘Her staff glows an amber hue, illuminating the ground around her, only so that she doesn't bump into someone’s tent’

‘It has been three days since The Toxicologist mission, the putrid smell of that criminal’s presence still holding onto Mandragora’s uniform’

‘Light’

‘From a distant field a small blooming light fill the eyes of the Taran, around it stood eight silhouettes’

‘She grabs onto her staff, squeezing its head as the light escapes through the spaces between her fingers, she sets flight’

‘Soaring just above the bog which the camp has been set up next to, she soon arrives to the trudging trupe’

“What’s the meaning of this?” ‘She asks the people clearly wearing Dublinn uniforms, though without the Refraction around them’

“... Drat…” ‘One of the soldiers mutter as she grips the hilt of her saber’

“Stop… don’t draw blades… not on her…” ‘A familiar voice calls out to the Taran soldier, his face not hiding behind a mask, showing fear in the face of the officer’

“Don’t tell me that we have more deserters… Bloody hell, should’ve-” ‘Mandragora gets interrupted as the source of the flame steps forth, their boot sinking into the muddy ground, he looks up to the floating harbinger’

“Commander… You must understand,” ‘He pleads,’ “We… we can’t- we aren’t made for this war…” ‘His voice weavers’

“You… that voice, you’re that Flamerazer who survived that first tempest platoon lunatic, aren’t you?” ‘Mandragora asks, eyes shifting to that very same dented-in flamethrower held up, its flames lighting the bog up to the treeline’

“... Yes, I am that Flamerazer who joined Dublinn to protect their home… the Flamerazer who saw it all…” ‘He says, guilt overflowing with fear’

“Why is a man so brave as you-” ‘Mandragora tries to ask only for the Flamerazer to break his silence’

“I saw my friends die like they were nothing but pawns! We are made to die! We are fowlbeast standing in line for a royal banquet!” ‘The Taran Flamerazer shouts towards the caster’

‘Mandragora’s staff hums as the earth begins to rumble’

“I… I saw what The Bandit is doing… he’s only making it harder to live as Taran, I’ve… I’ve seen what that Toxicologist can do– I saw them… crawl out of the mist… limbs falling off- faces melting off their face I- I-” ‘The Flamerazer is in tears, his hands shake, his flame wavers as the rest of the men stand in front him, shielding him from the Dublinn officer’

“I… that girl… you remember her right, commander? She… I gave her my last memento of home… and yesterday with the reinforcements I got the news… I– there are people waiting for me, for all of us, commander… how should my little one grow up without a father to protect them…” ‘His voice shakes as he sniffles, the shaking ever-worsening’

“... Bloody hell…” ‘Mandragora sighs’

“You’re a good soldier, all of you are, I get it… just… Bear the name of Dublinn and I’ll-” ‘The Flamerazer interrupts as his tone changes to one of hate’

“No. Dublinn is nothing but a bloodthirsty beast! What are we fighting for!? For the demented to wreak havoc? For the working man to be gutted below the banners of Victoria?” 

‘The flameraiser breaks out shouting, his throat cracking in grief’

“FOR US TO SLAUGHTER VICTORIAN FAMILIES IN THE NAME OF A WHORE WHO CLAIMS TO BE-”

‘Mandragora slams her staff, the very ground begins to shake and rumble as the bog turns into a Catastrophe, a piece of jagged earth shooting towards his flamethrower with volatile rage’

‘The one time he should’ve kept it empty’

‘BLAST’

‘The backpack explodes into a show of flames, it covers the deserters in a sticky prison of infinite heat, they try to flee only to fall into the bog, whatever remained above the mud burns with the righteous flame of Dublinn’

‘The Feline looks at the pieces of the shattered backpack with a hollow gaze, her hands are shaking, her throat is clenched’

‘She falls to the ground, her shoes deepen into the mud’

‘She reaches down and picks up a piece of that backpack, a small bit of burning fuel still on its tip’

“Never got your name. Warrior of impossible odds… You dodged death so much… yet it was life that brought you to deserting…” ‘Mandragora mutters, remembering the Dublinn Shadowblade’s remark on loyalty’

“I’m sure… The Leader will… forgive you.” ‘She mutters as she embarks back to the camp without levitation’

The Immolator

‘Dust envelops the room in a welcoming fog as the ceiling crumbles a small amount’

“Ah, Mandragora was it?” ‘The Criminal asks, his mask laid on the table next to a cylinder of crushed Originium and a wide set of wires’

“Yeah, not one of those bloody names the other’s stuck on me” ‘The Feline retorts, laying on the back of the underground bunker dug into the machinery of the mobile city’

“Oh believe me, The Bandit and The Toxicologist already sent me plenty about ye’ and not one of it is a complaint, but something’ none can teach ya is how to make a proper bomb to send them dogs running with their tails tucked ‘way” ‘The Immolator says turning around, cleaning out another cylinder with a cloth, half of his face very clearly burnt’

“Oho, now we’re talking” ‘Mandragora walks closer to the weathered down table and cautiously observes the crushed Originium’

‘The Criminal notices this and picks it up swirling it a little’

“What, lil’ death scare ya? Girlie, this here dust is nothing to be scared of” ‘The Immolator cackles as he puts it back down before attaching the wires’

“I’ve seen just what it can do to a person, so no! I’m not gonna bloody ignore it you git!” ‘She hisses back, still observing the expert bomb making’

“Aye, aye, Originium is it? Pretty good to pair with The Leader’s flame, you know how the Evocators cast?” ‘The Immolator asks putting the device onto the bed of Originium dust’

“Course’, I’m an officer too, not one of your disposable lackeys.” ‘The caster replies, crossing her arms whilst her eyes stay glued to the intricate design’

“Yeah’ still didn’t realize we’re all disposable, eh girlie?” ‘The Immolator asks putting the top cylinder on’

“... Ignorance is bliss, you bloody psycho.” ‘She retorts with a sly, knowing smirk’

“That it is, hah, I like ya, attitude like that is what leads people to die for ya’. Now take this” ‘The Immolator hands her the bomb’

‘Mandragora backs away,’ “Whuh- hell’s you giving this to me for?! ” The Feline curiously goes to inspect the bomb

“Well, why’d ya think I filled it to the brim with powdered pain? This ain't no ‘anti-personnel’ bomb, this is ‘anti-construction’”

“Huh… why do I feel like that makes it ten times worse?” ‘The Taran asks cautiously’

“Why’ ya so untrusting? It’s a bomb made by the man who pioneered the Dublinn flamethrowers, hell, even those gloves used by the Evocators have the same Arts core as my workshop” ‘The Immolator chuckles as he grabs another cylinder, putting a device at its bottom’

“Bullshit. The Leader told me it’s Columbian made, stole it from one of them… Uhh… Raythean workshop fellas” ‘Mandra says, still cautiously handing the bomb’

“HAH! Girlie, ya really underestimate me, why’d ya think we got so many? Used to work for ‘em! Once my fellows told me about Dublinn, I just pitched to the head that we can use it as prime testing grounds~ The lie is just there so Victorians don't go ruffing up some unwanted feathers cross borders” ‘The Immolator says with great pride as he puts on a pair of gloves’

“So you’re using Dublinn as lab rats for weapons testing?” ‘Mandragora asks, unsurprised’

“It’s a mutual benefit, don’t ya agree?” ‘He screws on the cylinder for the second bomb after laying an Originium crystal in it’ “Here, take this too” ‘The Immolator tosses the second bomb to the Feline’

“ACK- WHY ARE YOU SO COMFORTABLE WITH THROWING THESE!!?” ‘The Feline clumsily catches the second bomb, almost falling off balance’

“They are remote detonated ya sod! Now, for the reason I gave em’ to ya, The Bandit got some of his friends locked up after Victorians took back his whatever city… Derrek? Bah! Still as stupid as always” ‘The Immolator chuckles before reaching below the desk, Mandra’s ears droop fearing whatever he may pick out’

“So, just had to come here basically alone, make some surprises, and break them fools out, but that’s where you come in, girlie” ‘The Immolator says with an evil smile’

“... My men are currently resting in the slums with the rest of the Taran, I’ll give it about 3 days before we get into a whole turf war with whatever Victorian guard there are” ‘Mandra shrugs, her tone one of annoyance’

“That doesn't matter, I’m sure The Bandit’s men can defend themselves from a damn Trillby if they really set their mind to it,” ‘the criminal says with nonchalance, laying out a large piece of paper, blueprints,’ “What I need is a face, preferably cute and you fit that criteria.” ‘The Immolator continues with a chuckle’

“Who ya callin’ ‘cute’? Keep that trap shut unless you tell me what I gotta do, or I’ll have a gargoyle deliver bits and pieces of you to your brothers” ‘Mandragora sighs, putting the bombs away’

“They don’t know ya face you git! Now, the plan,” ‘He points to the blueprints’ “This here is the ‘Iron Grip’, this city’s, and one of Victoria’s most defended complexes.” ‘He says pointing to the name of the blueprint’

“So, you mean we don't have anyone on the inside?” ‘Mandra asks looking over the design of the complex’

“Aye, couldn’t get any, but that won't be a matter,” ‘The Taran officer points to the entrance hall of the prison’ “This here is where ALL traffic goes through, breaking through here is oughta start a commotion and likely a LOT of The Bandit’s men dying, no good, I know.”

‘Mandra nods’

‘The Immolator points to the prison’s side’

“Here will be a red car, I want ya to sneak that second bomb under it, the lighter one, keep the heavier one on ya and move in, I’ll be watching when you’ll get there and explode that bomb while you go through security” ‘The Immolator says with confidence’

“How bloody stupid… without weapons they’ll gut me!” ‘The caster says, crossing her arms once more, her staff resonating whilst hanging off her hip’

“Well, can’t exactly go around showing a staff, but a walking cane? More believable, just say to them that you got a bad leg and kablooey!” ‘The Immolator makes the hand gesture of something very violently exploding’

“Alright- Alright, fine, so let’s say if this car blows open, what then?” ‘Mandra asks, exhausted’

“Well, while they all rush out, that’s where you’re gonna be on a timer,” ‘The Immolator follows the main hallway of the prison’ 

“You’ll go in there, use that staff of yours and open all the cells up, the grounds are made of stone, more criminals we can get the better, this prison only hosts the most violent son’s-a-bitches this side of Terra”

“God this is stupid… Alright, I’m following.” ‘Mandragora rubs the space between her eyes’

“Good, good. Now once you got all the prisoners huddled up, throw the second bomb behind and use your Arts to break out, once I see you and the lackeys burst out, I’ll detonate the bomb sending all the dogs after ya flying’” ‘The Immolator describes with a sickened smile’

“... Honestly? The Bandit still makes worse ideas, I’ll go take one of my elites along.”

“Remember, no uniforms, surefire way to mess it all up, these guards know what a Taran looks like, and especially a Dublinn.” ‘The Immolator mutters as he rolls the blueprint back up’

‘With this exclamation, The Immolator turns his head towards the entrance of the bunker, his gaze worried for a moment before turning to one of annoyance’

“Good morning, Immolator, sir.” ‘A very familiar voice echoes behind the caster’

“Whuh-” ‘Mandragora hurriedly turns around to meet with the gaze of a familiar face’

“Long time no see, for both of you.” ‘He finishes the sentence before Mandragora returns from her daze’

“Well, I already gave her the info you need, I'm counting on you being a headache once again, Spy.” ‘The Immolator says in a stark change of tone’

“The feeling is mutual, sir.” ‘Cillian bows in respect before waving to Mandra to follow him’

‘As they near the surface once more, the rays of sunshine momentarily blind the Taran whilst brushing her officers uniform off’

“You are wearing military clothing in a Victorian city, you are incredibly far from your outpost and you’re planning to go on a solo mission to break through one of Victoria’s most secretive prisons.” ‘His words are harsh, though coming from a place of concern’

“I… err… that Elocutionist fella told me to help The Criminals advance the presence of Dublinn, make ourselves known and whatnot” ‘Mandra scratches the back of her head nervously, whilst leading the way to the downtown where her men had established residence’

“... Fair enough… I’ve overheard The Immolator’s plan, while risky… it could work.” ‘The Spy mentions, adjusting his hat’

“Hah, it’s new to hear you actually agree to such a rash plan” ‘Mandragora chuckles, looking over to the serious face of her friend’

“Thing is… we hardly know any better, this prison doesn't seem to be well defended, shouldn’t be, but we simply do not know anything.” ‘The Spy mentions, adjusting his shirt as the two enter the rundown streets’

“So what? Are we just gonna break in and wing it?” ‘Mandra asks half jokingly’

“Wouldn’t be new for you, so yes. As long as we’re both there, I’m confident.” ‘Cillian states with full conviction’

“Well well… better motivational talker than me…” ‘Mandragora says with a rather embarrassed tone, her ears drooping slightly’

‘Cillian smiles slightly before faking a cough’

Timekeep

‘The dark alleyways open up into a clearing hidden behind rather tall buildings, as the two walk through one of entryways, a spiral masked watchman greets them’

‘The Taran officer waves her hand towards the man, the man looks towards the duo and signals downwards, soon the makeshift gate mostly out of junk metal and wood opens up’

“Welcome back, commander. We err… Made it homely for ourselves!” ‘The meek Dublinn soldier speaks up, proudly stationed beside the gate’

“I like it, made it real homely, reminds me of the days I used to dig around the junk of nobles for scraps of their dinners” ‘Mandra replies with a heavily sarcastic tone, Cillian shortly followed behind’

“Halt.” ‘Soon, The Spy meets and promptly evades the grasp of the Shadowblade’

“Your technique is pristine but when you strike you make too much noise, it works in the busy forests but not in the calm outposts.” ‘Cillian calmly says, looking into the round mask of the Shadowblade’

“Identify yourself.” ‘The Shadowblade commands, weary of the new face’

“A good friend, and plenty trustworthy too, don’t worry” ‘Mandragora waves at the Shadowblade before the sneak master withdraws’

“You sure improved… Cil.” ‘Mandra says in a quiet tone’

“So have you, Molly.” ‘The Spy replies with a slightly lighthearted tone before taking lead to the nearest table’

‘A worn down wooden table stained by a wide array of drunkards, on it the only alcoholic is the one with a shield adorning their back’

“Hm, good to see that your elite members can trust to relax out in the open.” ‘The Spy mentions, lightly poking the resting companion knight’

“Bah! You couldn’t hurt that man with a cannon ball, if he wants to sleep in a combat zone, he damn well can!” ‘Mandragora chuckles, sitting down at the table and laying the cylinders down’

“Very well. Now, for our plan… I do see logic in the explosion of the car as a distraction.” ‘Cillian says with a calculated tone, his eyes glued onto the bombs’

“Thrifty, so… any-” ‘Mandragora’s words get cut off by an evil smile coming over Cillian for a moment, right before returning to a cold tone’

“But if we use the heavier explosive, it will cause a far bigger commotion.” ‘Cillain says, his hand on his chin’

“Wha- Cillian no?! We aren’t gonna kill a fuckton of civilians, that mansion is set right next to the city square, dragons know how much it’d kill…” ‘Mandragora puts a hand on the lighter bomb and picking it up’

“You’re… You’re right, Molly, I’m sorry, I got overboard…” ‘Cillian says with a slight chuckle’

“... If we’re doing this, we’re not gonna spill fool’s blood, soldiers I’m all fine with killing, but…” ‘Mandragora’s voice cuts out as she remembers the dented flamethrower’

“We’ll see how it’ll turn out.” ‘Cillian says, packing the bombs into a small bag’

‘As the two Taran get ready for the mission, the campgrounds grow lively, townsfolk interacting with the soldiers, soldiers playing sports, showing off their weapons and Arts’

‘Departing from the outpost, a few blocks is all it took before The Spy noticed something’

“Your Shadowblade is following us.” ‘Cillian exclaims, looking back on the empty alleyway’

“How the hell do you even know these things?!” ‘The caster asks looking over his shoulder’

“... One too many bad encounters with Victorian guerrillas gets you to be watchful. Return to your outpost, soldier.” ‘The Spy commands the Shadowblade’

‘From the darkness, a purple glow before the camouflage fades, revealing the man standing still’

“You…” ‘Mido is in disbelief’

“She’s safe with me, you needn’t worry.” ‘Cillian claims with conviction’

‘Without further adieu, the Shadowblade fades back to the shadows, his presence no longer sensed by the Taran spy’

“Wow…” ‘Mandragora’s ears flick in amazement’

“The Refraction has a certain hum to it.” ‘Cillian mentions, turning back to continue walking towards the city square’

“Noted.” ‘The Feline caster replies quietly, following The Spy while lightly tapping her staff against the ground’

‘The sounds of commotion grow louder and louder as the setting sun paints a wondrous image’

‘Their chatter shrinks, in contrast with the clearly heard commotion as they enter the city square’

‘Storefronts of gadgets, baubles, nick-nacks and doo-dads, a mass of people wandering it with wide smiles, kids, adults, elders, even the city guards can be found buying sweets from vendors’

“Hmph, feeding off the teet of nobles.” ‘Mandra mutters under her breath’

“Ignorance is bliss, as you’ve said.” ‘Cillian replies in turn’

“You really learnt to hold onto every blasted detail…” ‘Mandra’s ears flick’

“Being a spy makes it a necessity. Now… here we are.” ‘Cillian points to the large mansion standing as the crown jewel of the city, in front of it a sea of civilians, and the bright coloring of that red car standing out’

“Looks more like a duke’s summer home rather than a prison.” ‘The caster says, slightly concerned’

“It was before that very duke passed away, all I could dig up is their fascination with time.” ‘The Spy claims, grabbing Mandragora’s hand, leading her through the crowd’

“Pft, pig seeking immortality, how lovely.” ‘Mandragora mutters, following close behind The Spy’

‘The Spy trips in front of the red car, the cylinder rolling below while he stands up, dusting himself off’

“Molly, let me talk to them, alrighty?” ‘Cillian asks, as the two arrive to the doorway, a singular guard leaning against the mansion doors’

‘The caster nods, silently following beside The Spy’

‘In Front of the tall mansion, a large Feline man stands with a top hat and green accents, a Trilby Asher’

“Ah- Uhm… Hello, sir, may we err… gain entry?” ‘Cillian walks up and awkwardly asks the tall Victorian Feline’

“... Sure, once they decide to accept guests. I too am awaiting the guards.” ‘The Victorian elite exclaims’

“Oh- oh… alright, alright” ‘Cillian says with a nervous smile’

‘A silence filled moment after’

‘BLAST’

‘The red car behind the three erupts in a bright orange flash, followed by the disarray of the market goers and the city guards alike’

‘The Trilby Asher immediately dashes past the two dread filled Dublinn’

“Mandra, now.” ‘The Spy shouts as the two dash into the mansion’

‘The spacious lobby greets the two, red velvet carpet with all sorts of clocks to decorate it with’

“Damn… didn't lie, this lunatic sure did love his time” ‘Mandragora say, putting her hands onto her hips as Cillian shuts the door behind themselves’

“Well, better for us to start moving, the blueprints should still be accurate” ‘Cillian says as Mandragora slightly taps one of the grandfather clocks decorating the lobby’

‘The clock begins to tick’

“Heh, look at these, so old that it needs to be given a good shake to even start counting time!” ‘The caster says, looking at the weighty pendulum swing back and forth’

“Not the time to admire the late duke’s playthings, this door should be the way to our destination” ‘The Spy says trying to pick the door neighboring the mansions entrance’

“Oh you beautiful sod, step away before I crush your skull.” ‘Mandragora taps her staff against the earth, muffled amber light permeates through the cloth’

‘Cillian flinches away before a piece of the mansions floor flies outward striking the door, ripping it off of its hinges’

‘The very room shakes as all of the clocks begin ticking’

“And it seems like I’ve even fixed up this dusty old machinery~ How splendid” ‘The caster proudly says, stepping through the remnants of the door followed by Cillian’

‘Behind the door, a rather long hallway decorated with paintings, pottery, and the same grandfather clocks as the ones in the lobby, ticking in unison’

“Mandra…” ‘Cillian stops behind the caster,’ “... You know, I wanted to ask… why are you helping The Criminals?” ‘His tone full of concern’

“I’m… helping Dublinn, by helping The Criminals we are only furthering our agenda, aren’t we?” ‘Mandragora turns back to see the worried expression on Cillians face’

“... They are a bad crowd, you know that” ‘His voice weavers slightly’

“They are also Dublinn officers, designated by The Leader herself, Cillian… How about I ask you something”

‘Mandragora turns around, her expression serious’

“Who do you trust? Clearly not The Leader, nor the officers she designates… hell, even The Criminals hate you by how I saw The Immolator react to you”

“Who I trust is you. The very day I joined Dublinn was because I thought that baron killed you…” ‘Cillian says, his tone low’

“Oh you…” ‘Mandragora voice grows emotional as her tail coils around her leg before a noise echoes through behind them’

‘A clicking sound followed by a weighty bash, retaliated with a strike’

‘The Trilby Asher rushes past the destroyed doorway towards the two Taran’

‘Mandragora slams her staff down expecting a battle’

“HELL ARE YOU TWO STANDING THERE FOR?! RUN!” ‘The worried shouting by the Victorian elite passing them sends the two Tarans to run after him, while the sounds of metallic skittering is heard behind them’

‘As they rush through the hallway, another doorway blocks their pathway’

‘SLASH’

‘The Trilby Asher’s switchblade easily cuts through the wooden doorway, as the Tarans make it through; the caster’s staff slams to the ground causing it to raise up into a wall now sealing them inside’

“Huff… Huff…” ‘The Trilby Asher slides down a wall while the two Taran look at the newly made wall’

“Did you catch a good look for whatever made that sound?” ‘The caster asks, still hearing the muffled sounds of metallic clatter’

“I think we have bigger fish to fry” ‘Cillian walks over to the Trilby asher and kneels down beside him’

“What’s that meant to-” ‘The Trilby Asher tries to speak up before feeling the sharpness pressed against their neck’

“Why did the Duke of Caster send you here, Victorian?” ‘His voice is cold, eyes piercing into the top hatted gentleman’

“Hrk– Who are you–” ‘The Victorian tries to ask before the dagger moves closer to his neck’

“Answer me.” ‘Cillians words are uncharacteristically cold’

“Spy got caught by the wrong duke, unexpected turn of events, I’m the trainee they sent-” ‘The Victorain pleads with the Taran’

“Hah, you understand what he’s yapping about?” ‘Mandragora asks, putting a hand on Cillian’s shoulder’

“... Then our goals don't contradict. Tell your duke that the white fowlbeast sends their regards…” ‘Cillian say pulling the dagger away from him’

“...And all will be forgotten when the wings close in the comfort of home.” ‘The Trilby Asher mutters before standing up, picking his switchblade up much to distrust of Mandra’

“Are we just gonna bloody let em keep his weapon!?” ‘The caster calls out the lunacy’

“He’s not exactly with us, but not against us.” ‘The Spy mentions, continuing walking down the stairway leading into the Mansion’s underside’

“Well, in that case, what did you see, Victorian dog?” ‘Mandragora asks the Trilby Asher tauntingly’

“How demeaning… It was a grandfather clock, sliding around on the floor… started coming towards me and blam… almost crushed my head in, one good strike got it down and out, though” ‘The top-hatted Victorian exclaims, closing his blade up, attaching it onto his back’

“Remember, you’re only alive because of The Spy’s wishes.” ‘Mandragora spits further venom towards the Victorian’

“Well aware, Dublinn. I still have a family I value…” ‘He quickly replies to the hate filled Taran’

“... Do you two hear it?”

‘Ticking echoes through the stone underhalls’

“Oh for Tara’s sake… well, suppose at this point concealment doesn't matter much” ‘Mandragora unwraps the cloth from her staff and begins to chant’

‘Rocks begin to fly out of the walls as they assemble into a stoneshield around Mandra and Cillian’

“Wow, so the rumors are true…” ‘The top hat remarks’

“Hmph, I’ll take that as a compliment, now then…” ‘The trio begins to walk through the dark halls’

‘Metallic clinging echoes through the darkness as Cillian takes out a glove, a small stream of light erupts creating light’

“Hah, using The Immolator’s gadgets?” ‘The caster smirks, sticking close by The Spy’

“Correct, flames are what will set the sun for Victoria, after all.” ‘Cillian replied calmly’

“You know, as much as I value Taran people’s rights and all that… you guys are definitely stepping into insanity.” ‘The Trilby Asher voices his concerns, going ignored by both Taran’

‘The grandfather clock gets illuminated by the flame of Dublinn as it slowly approaches from the darkness’

“Oh… so these were the safety of this prison” ‘Mandragora says, unashamedly letting it get close to her’

‘CLONK’

‘The stone shield catches the heavy strike, but not before sending the caster back a noticeable amount’

“Molly!” ‘Cillian steps back, raising his dagger close to himself’

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” ‘The caster grits her teeth before her staff shines a bright amber color’

‘BASH’ ‘The wall next to the clock dislodges and bashes against the machina’

‘BASH’ ‘A momentary distance made to the now malfunctioning machine before the wave of stone relentlessly bashes against it once more’

“Ha… haha! Useless bloody machinery- Huff…” ‘Mandragora exhales slowly, her hands shaking a bit, not expecting such a powerful strike to impact her shield’

“You okay, Molly?” ‘Cillian calls out to Mandra while the Trilby Asher walks over to the near-pulverized machine’

“Yeah… Yeah, I’m good.” ‘Mandra says, leaning on her staff’

“Hm, these are the same type of machinery that were used to make steam knights.” ‘The Victorian mentions picking up bits and pieces of metal’

“The obsessed duke really didn’t skip out on budget, back when they ruled Steam knights were still made…” ‘Cillian mutters walking over to the Trilby Asher’

“Well, any idea how we should figure out where the cells are?” ‘Mandra asks, tapping her staff against the ground’

“Err… Mo- Mandra, can you create one of those?” ‘Cillian asks, catching the top hat’s attention’

“I can try.” ‘Mandra tries to focus’

“Create what…?” ‘The Trilby Asher asks as the wall next to him begins to shake’

‘The form of a tombkeeper starts to break its way out’

“O- oH EASY EASY!!” ‘The Victorian begins to crawl backwards as the grotesque steps forwards’

“Amazing as always” ‘Cillian remarks, patting the wing of the grotesque’

“Hah, thank you, as always” ‘Mandragora replies with a smile, diverting the path of the grotesque before it would’ve crushed the Trilby asher’

“‘Gasp’ ‘Gasp’ Huff… Could’ve warned me…” ‘The Trilby Asher stands up, wiping off the dust and shuffling back, behind the grotesque’

“And I could’ve crushed you, so make yourself useful before I change my mind.” ‘The caster replies with vitriol towards the irritated Victorian’

‘As the grotesque triumphantly marches through the dark corridors, a small light fades in through the cracks of its body’

“Seems like it has a good sense, of navigation” ‘The caster walks closely behind her creation, patting it on the back’

“... Spy, after we get out I want this interaction to never have happened… my superiors would gut me…” ‘The Trilby Asher adjusts his top hat, his tone full of awkwardness’

“Pft, like we’re gonna remember who you are!’ ‘Mandragora laughs as mechanic skittering echoes in the large room, the gargoyle stands still shielding itself with its wings’

‘Their banter quickly gets cut short as the gargoyle begins to be dug away at by a multitude of heavy hitting pendulums’

‘Mandragora’s eyes fill with horror as she stands there, staff tilted towards the now rumbling grotesque’

‘Cillian steps back and rummages around in his pouch’

‘The Trilby Asher clicks his switchblade’

‘An large clockhead looms above the grotesque before a huge pendulum strike splits the creature in two’

“Oh what the hell is that…” ‘Mandragora’s staff begins to hum as the grotesque splits into small stones enveloping the giant clockwork in a hail of stone’

‘Almost shaped like a Steam knight, only with cogs for flesh and a constant orchestra of ticking’

“What the hell is that thing?!” ‘The Victorian elite calls out, his blade ready to strike at the ensnared creature’

“Peak of Victorian craftsmanship, apparently” ‘Mandragora yells back as her staff glows, the walls nearby her breaking apart into earthen pillars to launch towards the mechanic monster’

‘Steam sprays out of its back before it begins to charge’

‘Mandragora dashes aside, the mechanical beast effortlessly crushing her rockshield’

‘Cillian throws a small explosive out of his pouch, sending the hurdling beast crashing into the wall’

‘The Victorian elite strikes the back of the beast, a burst of sparks illuminating the dark hallway as the dislodging beast staggers further into the wall’

‘The three rush into the open, illuminated room, clocks ticking above locked doors, when listened past the steam extruded machina, the screams of kinsmen echo through the relatively empty prison hall’

“Mandra- extract them!” ‘Cillian shouts as he rushes around the hall, the Trilby Asher standing guard, looking at the brass beast with vigilant eyes’

“Psst, Mandra! It’s me!” ‘The caster gets called on by a vaguely familiar voice’

“Hm, one of The Bandit’s lackeys ain’t ya?” ‘Mandra peeks through the door’

“You got rid of the big boy? Aight, step back!” ‘The man says, his voice muffled by the door, regardless, the caster steps back’

‘Bash’

“Almost there!”

‘BASH’

‘Out charged the brutish lackey, the door crushed to pieces as the man flexed his muscle once freed’

“I could’ve just broken you out through the stone walls you know…” ‘Mandragora says, holding her staff close, with a rather unamused expression’

“Well then? Get to it lass!” ‘The lackey says before shoulder bashing yet another door, breaking into a sleeping prisoners cell’

‘Mandra sighs before her staff begins to glow, the doors fall through the earth as the hinges get rejected by the Arts manipulated earth’

‘CLASH’

‘The large pendulum struck next to the Trilby Asher as the switchblade stabs into the chest of the mechanical menace, the two begin to exchange blows, the Victorian barely dodging the attacks’

“Mandra! Quickly you need to open it up-” ‘Cillian shouts over before throwing yet another explosive, narrowly avoided by the Victorian and striking the time keeper in the chest, black liquid begins to pour from the creature’s chest compartment’

“On it!” ‘The caster rushes towards Cillian, a pair of small barred windows on the top of the wall where he stood’

‘Mandragora begins to concentrate whilst the brutish lackey manages to break down the last door holding a prisoner’

“Alright Lads, Victorian, Dublinn, what have ya, what are we good at?” ‘The brutish lackey asks, opening his muscle rich arms open to the crowd’

“BASHIN’ HEADS!” ‘They scream out in unison as they swarm the clockwork, thrown to walls like they don't feel it, without even the slightest of grace that the Trilby Asher possess’

‘Mandragora begins to chant, she feels a hand on her shoulder’

“It’s alright Molly, focus.” ‘Cillian tries to reassure her’

‘Mandragora pulls her shoulder away’

“Like I need your patronization you git! Go help the others and leave me to channel my anger! Shoo!” ‘Mandragora hastily waves his friend away as she returns to chanting louder, curse words beforehand never said, the wall of the prison begins to mold to her will’

“MAKE A BREAK FOR IT!” ‘Mandragora shouts at the top of her lungs, pathway directly to sunshine opened where a street once was, prisoners previously thrown around by the Machina rush towards the exit, the Trilby Asher staying to clash with the beast the longest’

“YOU TOO, VICTORIAN POND SCUM” ‘Mandragora yells as she helps one of the last prisoners to hop up and out of the complex’

‘The Victorian nods and charges towards the exit, as he tries to reach out, Mandragora only reacts with a deranged smile’

‘GRAB’

‘The hand of Cillian meets the Trilby Asher, dragging him up as Mandra throws the bomb into the now emptied out prison’

‘Chaos has erupted in the city as the Victorian guards were ill prepared for the Dublinn prisoners, accompanied by Mandragora’s own division led by the Evocator’

‘Hurdling balls of fire round the complex ignoring Taran souls while burning those of Victorians’

‘The group along with the prisoners miraculously seeped into the cities alleyways and ratways alike, a small bunch including Mandragora, Cillian, The Bandit’s lackey and the Trilby Asher staying behind, climbing atop a building to overlook the complex’

“Looks like my mission was for nothing. The prisoner had already been freed.” ‘The Victorian says, adjusting his top hat and storing his now broken blade on his back’

“You sure did a lot for a bunch of Taran, heh…” ‘Mandragora says dangling her feet off the building, comfortably overlooking the complex’

“... The Immolator will act very soon.” ‘The Spy says calmly, sitting down beside the caster’

“Hey, you two, mind telling me what a damn top hat is doing with us?” ‘The lackey asks, looking at the Victorian with a concerned look’

“... Look, it’s a complicated situation and one I’m not gonna discuss while sober.” ‘The Trilby Asher says, dusting himself off, trying to rid himself of the burn marks from getting glazed by Cillian’s bombs’

“Molly… I’m sorry.” ‘Cillian’s voice lowers to a whisper’

“Sorry? Blood hell’s you sorry for?” ‘Mandragora asks, looking at Cillian with a rather wide grin’

“I… distracted you, I could’ve caved us all in because I messed with you when I shouldnt have” ‘Cillian says, his tone subtle with guilt’

“Oh shut it you!” ‘Mandragora hugs The Spy’ “You bloody nitwit, I was just stressed… you helped me channel my anger so… Sorry, sorry for lashing out” ‘Mandragora speaks, her tone softer than usual as she lets go’

“Hmph, lovebirds.” ‘The Trilby Asher comments before feeling a presence behind of him’

“Oi oi, calm it down before you kill the man” ‘Without a word being exchanged, The Bandit’s lackey grabs Mido into a chokehold’

“He ain't harmful! He ain't harmful!! Man’s already fought himself to death-” ‘The brute begins to say to the Shadowblade, the round masked elite allowing himself to be grappled’

“... The hell?” ‘The top hatted Victorian looks onward to the commotion’

“Mido, no need to engage in combat, not an enemy for now.” ‘Mandragora says, standing up’

“By your orders. Commander.” ‘Mido nods, sheathing his blade and being let go by the lackey’

“Damn… what blind loyalty…” ‘The Victorian mutters, backing away slightly and turning to the complex’

“Hmph, you’re the one to talk? Duke’s lapdog?” ‘Mandra chuckles, her tone taunting’

‘Their discourse gets cut short as a large veil of smoke pours out of the mansion before a gargantuan Originium spike pierces through the complex, standing high above the buildings, overlooking the evacuated market square’

“Hmph, The Immolator sure knows what he’s doing… that bomb seemed so small…” ‘Mandragora mutters, looking at the complex with a satisfied smile’

“... You Taranfolk never cease to horrify me.” ‘The Victorian elite says to himself, walking away and hopping off the building, disappearing into the city’

I’d die a thousand deaths…

‘Mandragora’s pouch hisses with mechanic commotion’

‘Ksssh’ “Commander Mandragora, do you copy?” ‘The sound of the storyteller echoes through the hastily grabbed device’

“Loud and clear, Evocator.” ‘Mandragora replies nonchalant, still overlooking the now ruined mansion’

“We rejoined with The Bandit’s men, The Immolator came to our outpost, we are planning immediate evacuation.” ‘Joel replies through the static of the device’

“Good, good, we’ll be right there.” ‘The geomancer replies, hastily putting the device away’

“Welp’ heard the man, let's go you two stickmen!” ‘The burly lackey rubs the Shadowblade’s head and picks Cillian up, putting him onto his feet’

“Ack- My neck is quite sensitive, sir…” ‘Cillian sheepishly reacts to the act of picking upage’

“Bah! Like I care-” ‘The burly lackey meets the gaze of Mandragora for a moment’ “I MEAN- Uhh, sorry lil’ guy, but we can go now, right Mandragora?” ‘The lackey clears his tone and scratches the back of his head’

“Right, I’ll lead the way.” ‘Mandragora mentions, making a floating staircase of stone down the building’

‘As the squad of Taran elite leaves for the campgrounds, both the streets and the group stay silent’

“Well… next should be The Convict…” ‘Mandragora’s mutter draws the attention of The Spy’

“... The Convict? What of him?” ‘Cillian springs up in an attentive tone’

“Err… The Elocutionist told me to help out The Criminals, and The Accountant has been sending me letters with each wave of reinforcements, he always seems to know where I am…” ‘Mandragora mentions, her tone somewhat embarrassed’

“Oh, because of the outfit, no doubt… I’ve overlooked The Accountant’s affairs, and the uniforms of Dublinn’s officers are one of its many aspects” ‘The Taran agent says, following along with Mandra through the street, the two physical combatants silently following behind’

“Ah, so we’re all being tracked? That explains a lot…” ‘Mandragora mutters to herself’

“Aye, officer, you’re being lucky! Boss sacrificed an arm and a leg for The Elocutionist to test ya” ‘The lackey speaks up in an upbeat tone as the squad enters the run-down streets’

“... Test? What the bloody hell are you on about?!” ‘Mandragora looks over to the lackey in a confused look’

“Aye’ Bandit pulled a lot of strings, most of The Criminals already hated ya guts for being so close with this stick man!” ‘The lackey would hit the back of Cillian, prevented by the memory of the previous glare he received by the cup sized Feline’

“Makes an awful lot of sense…” ‘Cillian mentions in a low tone’

“Hmph, and was that meant to be kept a secret? Am I some secret idol of The Bandit?” ‘Mandragora asks, a hint of vitriol in her voice’

“He sees power in ya, you got what it takes to become a criminal! Hell, I’ve heard my comrades mention The Toxicologist call ya ‘The Geomancer’ in passing!” ‘The burly Taran says with great respect going through his raspy throat’

“Hm, how flattering.” ‘Mandragora replies with a sly smirk as the Squad makes their way past the small Taran group gathering around the now packing up Dublinn encampment’

“Alright Dublinn!” ‘Mandragora claps as silence follows’

“Err… Molly, I feel like I have to mention” ‘Cillian pokes the shoulder of the caster’

‘Mandragora’s ears perk up, turning her head to The Spy’

“I kind of already did all that’s there with The Convict, it was like this… but with far more bloodshed.”

“So… I suppose we shall return to Dublinn’s grounds!”

“Bah, no ya won’t” ‘The Immolator speaks up helping the worn down table be tossed onto the cart’

“Bloody hell you mean ‘I wont’?” ‘Mandragora asks, more confused than angry’

“You fellas are coming with us to this place… Hillock, The Leader is planning something very big.” ‘The Immolator’s words strike the burly lackey mute’

“Oh… Are we already there? … Well, suppose this is why ya came so soon, lass!” ‘The lackey nervously chuckles’

“What are any of you talking about?!” ‘Mandragora asks dumbfounded, looking around to every Dublinn elite surrounding her’

“Hm, Molly, did they never tell you? The Six Criminals have spent months convincing The Leader to take action and invade… Londinium, Hillock is our surefire way to make the dukes scared of us.” ‘Cillian says with a weavering tone’

“Ah, so… since it’s big and whatnot… we’re all going there anyways right?” ‘Mandragora asks, a small smile on her face’

“I… Molly, I’m sorry, but…” ‘Cillian’s voice turns to a whisper’

“I’m going to Londinium, The Leader wanted their best spy to infiltrate the Sarkaz overtakers” ‘Cillian says, his voice shaking slightly’

“Hm, it makes sense, you are far more competent than I first imagined. Even within Dublinn’s ranks you prove to be a very useful person.” ‘Mido compliments The Spy’

“Cillian…” ‘Mandragora’s voice weavers slightly’

“You’re gonna work with those devils?! I- Cil…” ‘Mandragora’s voice weavers too as she holds onto his arm’

“It’ll be fine Molly… You’ll join me soon enough anyways, right?” ‘A weak smile glosses over Cillian’s face as he looks into the amber eyes of Mandragora’

“You bloody bet…” ‘The caster replies quietly before the spiral masked Evocator joins the band’

“Commander. We have done all the preparation, ready to set foot.” ‘Joel exclaims with a serious tone’

“Hah! Glad to see one of my apprentices still kicking and being competent” ‘The Immolator exclaims going to shake the Evocator’s hand’

‘The Evocator stares at The Immolator for a moment’

“I am not your apprentice.” ‘He replies coldly’ “I’m a soldier.”

“Hmph, so be it.” ‘The Immolator pulls his hand back before turning to Mandragora’

“So, shall we both make the commute towards Hillock? Fellow officer.” ‘The Immolator’s smile strikes a gut churning feel with the recent revelations’

“Yeah… Yeah, to Hillock” ‘Mandragora says, looking at Cillian, leaving alone’

‘She feels like she shouldn't let him go’

‘She represses her urge to call after him’

‘He’ll be fine.’

‘He’ll be fine.’

Arrival

“Ah’ do ya smell that, fellas?” ‘The burn faced criminal asks, lazing on the top of the cart carried by gargoyles, they are to stop on a highrise nearby the mobile city of Hillock’

“Smell of a buncha rotten Victorians” ‘He answers himself as the Evocator quietly sits below him’

“Hmph, we are ahead of schedule.” ‘The spiral masked Evocator exclaims as the small geomancer arises from her hay sarcophagus’

“Agh– my head… what are you two bloody blabbering about?” ‘The caster arises, rubbing her temples’

“We are at the destined campgrounds. commander.” ‘Joel exclaims, the gargoyle stopping steadfast as the other carriage driving rock beasts lay rest with their carts located around the small meadow they infested’

“Well, suppose it’s time to rest a bit before we take action… Doubt The Leader has the time to push this ahead a whole month…” ‘The Immolator exclaims, hopping onto the cart’s floor’

“A month?! The hell were ya bastards planning to do even if I was stuck having to help The Convict?” ‘Mandra asks, standing up to stretch, picking her staff up’

“A little time for error never hurt anyone, plus not like The Elocutionist had much faith in ya” ‘The Immolator rambles on before hopping off the cart entirely’

“Yeah yeah, more of that nonsense to blabber about with the other criminal pals you got” ‘Mandragora annoyedly gazes towards the now frolicing pyromaniac’

“Yeah, we should probably set foot in the city, The Accountant paid off the nobility, a nice chat before we organize a meeting with The Leader herself wouldn’t hurt…” ‘The Immolator looks out to the smoke enveloped city’

“And I'm being dragged into this as well, aren’t I?” ‘Mandragora sighs, hopping off the cart, earth arises to meet her landing in a levitating position’

“Well, it would be rude not to meet with The Accountant, he’s been the one keeping track of ya for god knows how long!” ‘The flame specialist mentions in passing, catching another glare between him and the Evocator’

“You remind me of a friend, Immolator.” ‘Joel mentions in a hollow tone’

“Hmph, and you remind me of a bomb mule, now tap tap Officer Mandragora” ‘The Immolator says, walking to a group of soldiers waiting by the treeline’

“Agh- I’m not your damn marionette, now sod off, I’ll be on my way separate.” ‘Mandragora waves off The Immolator as she turns to the camp settlers’

“Aye’ friend of mine lives here, still waiting for him to pay the tab on some rounds...” ‘One of the Dublinn soldier says to another while setting up a tent’

“Oh you tell me, I used to run a speakeasy before some Victorian hooligan threw a flame bomb in, whole place burnt to a crisp” ‘A fellow soldier replies, pulling the tarp over the previously laid out foundation’

“Hm, you two from Hillock eh?” ‘Mandragora asks, lowering from her float’

“Aye, commander, got plenty of friends here, this place is the closest we have to a city under Dublinn name” ‘The foundation laying solder said with a smile, unpacking a second tent’

“Heh, heard that it went under new management as of recent, some new bloke whose daughter’s death was blamed on us” ‘The tarplayer exclaimed’

“Hmm, you never know, I mean Dublinn has some…” ‘The conversation disinterests Mandra as she leaves the two to banter, she spots the Evocator unpacking the cart which they rode in with’

“So, not on too good terms with The Immolator?” ‘Mandragora asks, leaning her side on the cart’

‘The Evocator continues to pack for a bit before opening his mouth’

“... No, commander.” ‘Joel says calmly, taking apart the bedrolls which had combined into a thick plating of wool’

“Aye’ couldn’t imagine being ordered by that lunatic, though I expected him to be slightly more… unhinged.” ‘Mandra says with a bit of delay in her voice’

“Commander Mandragora, you should be on your way to Hillock, The Criminals no doubt have some plan they want to involve you with… I’m willing to handle the camp in the meanwhile.” ‘The Evocator exclaims coldly, he tries to lift a box off of the cart only for it to be too heavy’

‘The Shieldbearer catches it while yawning’

“Aye, we’ll handle the camp activities, just make sure you bring some booze back, peeps would go mad without something to quell their thirst” ‘The Shieldbearer chuckles at the commander moving around the cart’

“Fine, fine, you people are helpless when it comes to alcohol” ‘Mandragora lets off an endearing chuckle before putting her hand onto the gargoyle’

‘Without words exchanged, the grotesque spreads its wings and raises its round head’

“Alrighty! I’ll take this along with me for protection, if I return to any broken grotesques, it’ll be a bloody shitshow!” ‘Mandragora says, embarking on the gargoyle as it flies high into the sky’

The Accountant

‘County Hillock, the biggest mobile city Mandragora had come to see, vast farming platforms, tall cityscapes raising smoke amongst the tall mountainous terrain governing this part of Eastern Victoria, a serene night sky with stars piercing through the Feline sneaking into the supposed gathering location; a banquet hall in the inner city of Hillock’

“She helped us all with flying colors, Elocutionist, why do you not trust her?” ‘The voice of The Bandit pierces the quiet sounds of the street as the rock manipulating caster’s ears perk up to the sound’

“She is not to be trusted with high stakes or covert operations. It’s better to have her follow The Leader like she’s meant to.” ‘The calm words of The Elocutionist fire up The Bandit’

“Agh- She still should know about the inner workings of our plan…” ‘The Bandit’s tone lowers ever so slightly’

“This plan will be told to all arriving Dublinn officers with the arrival of The Leader. Approximately three weeks before she shall bless us with her presence.” ‘A voice Mandragora had beforehand never heard responds to the criminal’s plea’

“Huh, The Convict fella… sure doesn't sound too rambunctious…” ‘The small Taran exclaims as she goes to find entryway to the rather pompous banquet hall’

“Bandit baby, you really should just accept that she’s an asset to The Leader and not your special apprentice” ‘The Toxicologist says in a lighthearted tone, much to the frustration of its target’

“She’s a good girl-” ‘The Bandit’s plea falls upon deaf ears as a long sigh echoes through from the distanced half of the hall’

“Prepwork done, Elocutionist smooth-talked the nobles into agreeing with us… check. The Bandit got his lackeys stationed up ready to beat anyone senseless… Check. The Toxicologist is yet to gas the city… Check. The Convict has started spreading rage amongst the local Taran… And I’ve secured that weapons trade with the Columbians.” ‘The voice, almost clinically says, a tone of incredible boredom setting the hall into a quiet nod’

“Ah! Here it is!” ‘Mandragora pushes open the weighty door leading to the banquet of The Criminals’

‘As the small Feline enters, The Six Criminals lock eyes with her and then glare at The Bandit’ 

“Ah’ Welcome lass, seems like you overheard-” ‘The Immolator says in an uncertain tone’

“You weren't too quiet about it, so it’s only fair that I join in.” ‘Mandragora replies much to the annoyance of the spokesperson’

“Please take a seat, Mandra” ‘The Bandit says, an inviting tone in contrast with the rest’

“Hey!! Glad to actually meet you in person, all I got to see was your spawn and a complaint…” ‘The Toxicologist chimes in, cracking a small vial into their glass’

“Huh… Lot more homely than I thought this place would be.” ‘Mandragora says, her tone low as she spots a man in a stark difference in outfit’

‘Marked with the mantle of Victoria, steel plate armor similar to those Victorian elite she ran in with before, red hair and ears stuck facing backwards’

“Hmph, and who invited the Victorian dog?” ‘Mandragora asks, pointing towards the tall, non-pale man’

“... Pardon?” ‘The red haired Victorian asks, the same tone she mistook for The Convict just a minute prior’

“Ah, he’s The Brigadier, he’s here to make the colonel paranoid… As long as that man stays stubborn and weak, we’ll have free reign on what to do.” ‘The Accountant says, sitting behind the Elocutionist, his legs kicked up on one of the tables’

“Hmph, don't like your look but I suppose you’ll be useful.” ‘Mandragora spits poison, sitting down beside The Bandit’

“The feeling is mutual. Officer Mandragora.”

‘As the geomancer took seat, The Criminals grew quiet, The Bandit receiving the blunt of the looks before The Toxicologist swirls their glass, the clear liquid from the vial previously cracked; turned into bright red liquid’

“Tough crowd, but I suppose we have all our plans settled, it’s just keeping face now while we wait for the star of the show~” ‘The poison master takes a sip from their glass before giggling a small amount’

‘The Convict whispers to the Elocutionist before the spokesman stands up once more’

“The Toxicologist, where are your men stationed currently?” ‘He asks, reluctantly looking to the side of the hall with Mandragora sitting, behind him standing The Brigadier’

“Hah, some burrowed nearby the place, buried our stock of poison so no unwanted noses get the stench and drop dead on the streets.” ‘The Toxicologist giggles, taking another sip from their glass’

‘The Accountant sighs and stands up, going to walk out only for The Elocutionist’s hand to bar him’

“Where do you think you’re going?” ‘The Elocutionist asks the businessman’

“Why’d you ask? I’m going to grab a drink if the rest of the discussion will be purely about where who is, The Immolator’s forces are with The Leader, and so are most of my weapon envoys, by my considerations I have nothing to stick by for.” ‘The Accountant says with a bored tone, waving the hand of The Elocutionist, giving him a sneaky wink’

“You two, how about we go out and get ourselves familiarized with the locals? I’ve heard Hillock has some of the best inns in Victoria.” ‘The Accountant says, his honeyed tone lightening’

“Hmph, beats listening to this rotten bunch.” ‘Mandragora nods’

“I apologize but upon Duke Wellington’s orders I’m forbidden to get intoxicated.” ‘The Brigadier says, his tone steadfast’

“Oho~ What a perfect dog the duke has~” ‘The Toxicologist says, now resting on the table, cracking another vial into his glass’

“Since when did we have people loyal to a Victorian duke amongst our ranks?” ‘Mandragora asks, slightly annoyed’

“The duke of Wellington is an ally to Dublinn. Mandragora.” ‘The Brigadier replies sternly before he meets the gaze of The Accountant’

“How about you get your money up and not your funny up,” ‘The Criminal says, flicking his emblem,’ “You look straight out of the bottom rung of an army, this armor has no protective value, just some overpriced merchandise I’d see be sold at a mall as ‘Authentic Victorian armor’, even if you weren’t sent by The Leader, we’d have taken you in just so you wouldn’t have to huddle up close to a speakeasy’s entrance to escape the cold night.” ‘The Accountant digs into The Brigadier, the Victorian grits his teeth’

“Listen here you–” ‘The Brigadier lashes out briefly to the smile of The Accountant’

“Oh that dug under your skin, didn’t it?” ‘The Accountant whispers to the angered Victorian much to the delight of The Toxicologist, even getting a chuckle from The Immolator’

“Hey, how about this, big guy, you beat me in a drinking match and I’ll take it all back.” ‘The Accountant pats the shoulder plate of the Victorian officer’

“How childish.” ‘The Brigadier pulls his shoulder away from the slender fingers of the businessman’

“I’ll pay ya twenty thousand Victorian fonts if you manage to outdrink me.” ‘The Accountant smiles, still looking into the eyes of The Brigadier’

“You dumbass! He’ll drink ya outta house!” ‘Mandragora cackles at the small criminal looking up to The Brigadier’

“... Very well.” ‘The Brigadier reluctantly answers, still trying to keep his tone stern’

“There ya have it, everyone got a price” ‘The Accountant smirks as he opens the banquet hall’s doors’

“Hmph, should’ve bargained…” ‘Mandragora mentions in passing’

“At Least you don't have to drink The Toxicologist’s booze…” ‘The Bandit replies, looking over the the slumped over war criminal’

“... Good point there.” ‘Mandra mentions, standing up and catching up after the two leaving Feline freedom fighters’

‘Even with the brief stay in the warm hall, the cold air of Victoria hits the Feline in stark contrast, quickly following the pair’

“I’ve heard a lot about The Criminals.” ‘The Brigadier exclaims, his boots making a weighty thump against the walkway’

“I’m sure you know our specialties in such cases, you needn’t worry, plans will of course be talked through once The Leader makes an appearance.” ‘The Accountant says in a warm tone, his shoes making a much more elegant click with each step’

“Indeed. I’m more afraid of her.” ‘The Brigadier’s words catch Mandragora’s ears’

“Woe be me, the bloody Victorian dislikes me, figured.” ‘The caster exclaims, walking beside the two as they get passed by, its bright light illuminating their faces far better than the streetlamps may’

“Hmph. Keep your mouth shut. It would do wonders.” ‘The Victorian exclaims in a cold tone’

“Tch…” ‘Mandragora scoffs but takes his advice, staying silent as the three soon come across an unassuming house’

‘The Accountant knocks in a certain tempo, followed by the door coming open as they are greeted by a burly Feline man standing in front of the well lit room, the muffled sound of music’

“Hmph, who's knockin.” ‘The man stares at The brigadier, their physique matching up quite evenly’

“We’re Dublinn, good sir.” ‘The Accountant says, handing the factions insignia to the bouncer’

‘The burly man inspects the logo thoroughly’

“Aye, you two can pass” ‘The Man waves, letting The Accountant and the cater through, his hand stopping on the Victorian’s chest’

“I recognize that outfit ye Victorian dog, ain’t no place yer gonna get to.” ‘The bouncer meets the unamused gaze of The Brigadier’

“How unfortunate.” ‘The Victorian replies, his hand on the hilt of his blade’

‘The Accountant shoo’s the bouncers hand away’

“Hell are ye stopping our boy for?! Ya got a few screws loose?” ‘The Accountant pokes a finger at the man’s muscular chest’

‘The Bouncer grabs The Accountant by the neck, a moments later putting him down as the blade of The Brigadier grazes his neck’

“I’d advise you not to do that.” ‘The Duke’s officer says sternly to the fear frozen bouncer’

“Good grief… barely even made it to Hillock and we’re already killing people… Typical of a duke’s lapdog…” ‘Mandragora mentions, leaning on the wall behind the threatened bouncer’

‘A small Taran man rushes up to the commotion’

“What’s all this?! Ollie, what did you get yourself into and– Commander Mandragora?” ‘The man asks, dumbfounded at the commotion’

“Huh- wha-” ‘Mandragora looks to the small Taran man dumbfounded to be called by her name’

“Err… I was stopping this Victorian officer from entering.” ‘The bouncer squeaks out from behind the sharp blade of The Brigadier’

“Do ya have no clue who they are with?! I’ve been riding with this lass all across Tara!” ‘The Taran man waves the blade of The Brigadier away and slaps the bouncer wide across the face’

‘Before either the Dublinn or the Victorian officer could speak, The Accountant speaks up in an insulted tone’

“We ride in to liberate this land and one of our members almost gets tossed around while your bouncer grabs onto one of Dublinn’s Six Criminals? We demand a discount for our stay!” ‘The Accountant’s words scorn the bouncer who will no doubt have to foot the bill out of his pay’

“R- right away, sir, free drinks for our most valued guests” ‘The small Taran man nods, closing the door behind the three’

‘The Brigadier pulls his cape close to his side to not get caught in the doorway’

“You sure have a way making people pay for their wrongs.” ‘The armored Feline exclaims to no response, the three had already went ahead’

“Well commander, y’see when I left for Dublinn my family took the business over, this speakeasy here is me pride n’ joy” ‘The well dressed Taran man says, showing Mandragora the busy speakeasy with amateur musicians and competent drunkards alike’

“Never thought my ma could run a place so busy but it seems like it became the talk of the city as of recent!” ‘The trio soon joined by The Brigadier continue walking past a group of Trilby Ashers, though on a second look they are just fancy dressed Victorians’

“Hah, what a lovely place you have here, now, we came here with a bet in mind, have we not?” ‘The Accountant pokes the scar faced Victorian’

“Still a drinking match, yes.” ‘The Brigadier calmly replies as the group reaches the bar, Mandragora already climbing onto a chair’

‘The Taran host nods and disappears into the back of the establishment while the three sit there awaiting the occurrence’

“Ah, sorry miss! Would it bother you if I was to take a seat next to you?” ‘A sweet sound shellshocks Mandragora as she turns her head to the source’

‘A small smile and a pair of slightly blue horns with a headband’ 

“Eh, sure’ take a seat, like I care” ‘Mandragora says, still eyeing the backdoor of the speakeasy’

“Err… I'm Jane, I used to be a hostess of this place a couple of times… Are you a part of the host's family?” ‘The Vouivre curiously asks much to the Feline's annoyance’

“What's it to ya? I'm just here to get drunk and be done with the day” ‘The Feline remarks, seeing some movement behind the doors as the two Dublinn conspirators start to chatter’

“New to see a fresh face in Hillock as of lately, hasn't been the popular destination for many, especially not Taranfolk” ‘Jane chuckles softly, too joining to watch the door’

‘Mandragora chuckles at the irony of her statement’

‘Suddenly, the door flies open as two waiters bring a high stacking pyre of beer to the two’

“Ah’ the hell is this?! Kid's dosage?!” ‘The Accountant calls out the ludicrous amount of beer's lack of ludicrous amount as The Brigadier's face turns to confusion, and then horror upon discovering the businessman's lack of sarcasm’

“Bloody hell… finally, I haven't had a good drink in ages! Only cheap potato liquor and whatever the nobles threw out” ‘Mandragora exclaims reaching to lift off a mug of beer, looking over to the Vouivre’

“Ya drink?” ‘The small Taran girl asks the woman a good head taller than her’

“Hah… only occasionally when the Rhodes Island office throws a party” ‘The Vouivre replies hesitantly before the Feline pushes the tall mug of beer over to her side’ 

“Aye, drink up then, soon there'll be celebrations” ‘Mandragora exclaims with a knowing smirk, taking another mug from the pyre which had begun decreasing along with the two fellow's sobriety’

“Oh, wow, thank you!” ‘Jane picks up the beer and takes a sip,‘ “Still… how come you came to Hillock of all places, I'm sure Victoria has many beautiful sights to behold” ‘The Vouivre tries to ask the Taran, im midst of chugging her mug of beer’ 

‘Mandragora swallows wrong, putting the mug aside and starting to cough immediately’

‘Jane quickly jumps out of her seat to help Mandragora, guiding her behind the stage, which now a lone saxophonist took over’

“COUGH COUGH- Agh-” ‘The caster's lungs clear as she coughs up the last bit of booze’

“Are you alright? Need help getting up?” ‘The Vouivre asks cautiously reaching for the Taran’

“Nah, nah, I'm fine, shouldn't've been a bloody moron…” ‘The Feline staggers back, getting caught by Jane’

“Haha, that's alright, people tend to get into way worse predicaments when I'm the one serving them… it's just part of the speakeasy experience” ‘The Vouivre chuckles as she leads the Taran back to the bar, the two are already three mugs down’

“FUCK YOU!” ‘Shouts The Brigadier towards The Accountant, gauntlets blocking his mouth as he staggers on the countertop’

“Hah! Grown soft, Victorian? Yer twice my size!” ‘The Accountant scoffs taking his fourth mug’

“Grr… Bloody Taran witchcraft” ‘The armored Feline mutters before too downing his third mug’

‘The Feline swirls her mug before hesitantly asking’

“... So, what about you, why the bloody hell are ya in Hillock then?” ‘She asks, raising the mug up to her mouth and taking a more contained swig’

“It’s where I grew up, the beautiful mountains in the distance, the beautiful forests and the majestic wheatfields… It’s all so serene” ‘The Vouivre sighs, continuing her drink alongside the cup sized Feline’ 

“Hmph, shame that places like this have rotten leaders, eh? That Colonel Hamilton fella…” ‘Mandragora mentions, a tiny hic leaving her mouth while finishing that sentence’

“Yeah… That’s why I wondered why Taran such as yourselves still come to Hillock, especially with the whole Dublinn Scare going around…” ‘The worried tone of Jane cause the Taran to break out in a cackle’

“PFFT- Aye aye- ’Hic’ don’t cha worry, once we’re done here all that bastard’s gonna know is the warmth of his soil” ‘The Taran chuckles’

‘The Vouivre silently nods along, too getting slightly tipsy’

“Oi’ Can ya stop ‘Hic’ spreading our secret around you useless Taran…” ‘The shitfaced Brigadier calls out across The Accountant’

“Oi’ Victorian, how about you ‘Hic’ bloody shut up!” ‘The drunken caster replies’

“Pft, useless ‘Hic’ filth… Leader didn't even remember ya name!” ‘The Brigadier replies slumping over the countertop’

“Wha- ‘Hic’ Ya bloody lying! I’m her top officer!” ‘The caster replies with tears forming in her eyes’

“Haha~ It’s true! Only The Bandit and The Spy care for ya!” ‘The Accountant chuckles to the hurt Feline’

“No!! You bloody bastards–” ‘Mandragora rushes to the back of the speakeasy, crying’

‘The worried Wyvern shortly following after’

‘Rain had began pouring outside of the speakeasy, a small backyard with wooden fencing being the only differentiator from it being a connection of alleys’

“I’m worth something… I’m bloody worth something!!” ‘The Taran trashes around wailing’

“Hey! Calm down–” ‘Jane tries to comfort the Taran, only for her staff to grow and a jagged piece of earth stopping right before striking the caring Vouivre’

“Shut- ‘Hic’ shut the bloody hell up- I-” ‘Mandragora slumps down onto the ground’

“I- I don’t need… no damn Victorian pity-” ‘Mandragora mutters gazing at the ground’

“No- I understand your pain, I have a lot of Taran friends, a lady named Saoirse for one… you remind me of her a lot” ‘Jane manages to pat the back of Mandragora without a rock piercing her’

“Hng… I’m worth something… I’m worth something…” ‘Mandragora’s staff shines bright amber once more, from the sky illuminated by feint light a creature of stone approaches’

“H- hey… are you okay? You might have had too much to drink, it’s better you come with me to the backroom of the speakeasy–”

‘Jane tries to pick Mandragora up only for a tombkeeper grotesque to land in front of the two, fleeting its wings and silently howling’

“!!” ‘Jane puts Mandragora to the side before shakily drawing her blade, she’s no real soldier, just a ceremonial knight now…’

‘The empty gaze of the gargoyle observes the unsteady Vouivre’

“S- stand back, friend!” ‘Jane points her rapier to the unamused grotesque which slumps down and watches the rapier excitedly’

‘Unnerved, the ceremonial guard starts waving the rapier from side to side, backing off slowly’

‘The tombkeeper grotesque eagerly follows the rapier, playfully clawing at it with its rocky wings’

“Rocky….” ‘Mandragora crawls up to the grotesque’ “At least you think I’m useful, right?” ‘She cries into its embrace’

‘Jane stares in shock as the grotesque gently hugs the drunken Taran caster’

“I’m a good lass… Cillian told me so…” ‘Mandragora continues to weep as she buries her face into the Tombkeeper Grotesque’

“... What even…” ‘The Victorian momentarily questions her sobriety as she pokes the grotesque with her rapier’

‘The beast of stone takes note and playfully swats towards it’

“Huwah!” ‘Mandragora gets pushed backwards by the sudden action of the grotesque’

“Oh- oh- I’m sorry I didn't mean to-” ‘Jane goes to help up the intoxicated Feline’ 

“WAAAH I’M SUCH A FAILURE I’M GOOD FOR NOTHING WAA-” ‘Mandragora cries into the shoulder of Jane as the Vouivre goes to carry her back to the speakeasy’s warmth’

My advice

“Where’s Ms. Miller? We have an important guest ill!” ‘The Vouivre carries the Feline in, the contrast between the cold street air and the hot speakeasy strikes her hard’

‘Mandragora violently trashes against the wyvern’

“AUGH- LET GO OF ME YOU BLOODY VICTORIAN RAT!! I- I-” ‘Mandragora shuts, slurring her words as she struggles to break free’

“Oh what commotion, Jane you’re not meant to work for- commander!” ‘The short Taran rushes over and helps the Vouivre seat the drunken cat’

“Ough… My head… my bloody head…” ‘Mandragora lays back defeated on the chair, to the combined sigh of the rescuers’

“Err… Jane I’m so sorry you got tangled up with work outside hours I’ll… just make sure she doesn't hurl all across the ground, I’ll grab some water” ‘The Taran leaves the two, passing by the pair of waiters carrying another pyre of beer out the door’

‘The counter is filled with empty glasses and two struggling Feline men’

“Hrrr… I can… I can go on-” ‘The Brigadier struggles down his eleventh pint’

“You- ha… Thought you’d fail halfway through-” ‘The Accountant burps out putting his tenth empty glass to the counter’

“Had enough? ‘Hic’ Taran?” ‘The Brigadier asks struggling to form coherent sentences’

‘The Accountant’s only answer is a brief weavering and a fall to the counter’

‘Mandragora’s vision hazy, the world keeps spinning’

“Alright, leave this to me, this is how ya wake a drunk Taran up!”

‘The words echo out before cold water splashes across Mandragora’s face causing her to jump out of her seat and immediately punch the small Taran in the jaw’

‘The punch proved insufficient to cause pain’

“Agh– Wha- Huh?!” ‘Mandragora’s vision returns, sitting toppled over on the ground to the delighted smiles of the two speakeasy saviors’

“Ah- I’m sorry I shouldn't have dragged you back in, it rarely gets that cold outside…” ‘The Vouivre helps the Feline up to her feet, the small Taran caster still clung to her side’

“Whatever… Just get me a bloody quiet room, my head’s killing me…” ‘Mandragora waves to the small Taran man, nodding as he rushes off’

“... And you, err… Thank-” ‘Mandragora grits her teeth’ “Thank you for helping a lass out.” ‘She bitterly voices her gratitude’

“It’s nothing, really,” ‘Jane smiles at Mandragora’ “I’m always here to help a fellow Victorian“

‘Mandragora begrudgingly swallows her anger’

“... Taran. But I digress… You saw it… didn’t ya…” ‘Her amber glare meeting the blue eyes of the Vouivre’

“That… I thought I was seeing things” ‘The Vouivre awkwardly laughs in the deadpan face of the Feline’

“I– Jane, was it? … You’re a good lass, if I can give ya advice… Leave hillock in the bloody mud’ go to better places, this land’s doomed…” ‘Mandragora says quietly, rubbing her head’

“Wha- what do you mean? I mean… I suppose the colonel may not be the best for the city but I doubt he’ll stick by for long…” ‘The wyvern lady exclaims in a worried tone, the Taran man arriving behind the two’

“We have a room for you, Mandragora.” ‘The Taran host helps Mandra to walk upstairs’

“... Mandragora… What an interesting name, please take care!” ‘The Victorian waves to the Taran as she gets dragged up to a quiet room’

‘Commander Mandragora, one of Dublinn’s most talented casters and senior officers, drunk so easily and her trust weavering at the mere notion of The Leader’s ignorance’

‘The Feline falls to the warm comfort of the speakeasy’s bed, enveloped in softness only The Bandit’s hospitality provided’

‘Her eyes close as her body goes to rest’

‘She dreams of her old home, quite the big farmhouse’

‘How she'd watch the fowlbeasts fly through the wheatfields from the windowsill of her room’

‘How she and her brothers would laugh playing in the mud after a rainy day’

‘How once she lost herself in the wheatfield and had her father rescue her’

‘She sleeps soundly, tail tucked between her legs, ears pressed down on her head’

“Cillian big bro…” ‘Her sleep talking fills the warm room as it reminds her of the fireplace she used to huddle next to as a kitten’

‘Whilst the intoxicated Taran rested peacefully, loud cheering echoed through the speakeasy below’

“WOOO! ‘Hic’ TO VICTORIA!” ‘Shouts The Brigadier, crowd boos as The Accountant falls out of his seat’

“Alright alright what's all this then?” ‘The Bandit asks followed by the other Criminals holding the equally woozy Toxicologist up’ 

“Aye! Night only started lads!” ‘The Immolator doesn't waste his time taking seat on Mandragora's stool’

“Oh~ ‘Hic-’ Seems like our businessman has fallen ill~” ‘The Toxicologist says with a gleeful smile, held up by The Elocutionist and The Convict’

“CALL IT YOU TARAN! I WON YOUR CHILDISH-” ‘The Brigadier too, falters as his insides churn out to the disgust of many and the delight of The Toxicologist’

“Ha- ye two sods… haha… His plan really worked didn't it~” ‘The Toxicologist stumbles towards the two drunks’

‘The small Taran man goes to greet The Criminals before The Toxicologist rummages around his pouches’

“Aye… Think I got something exactly for this purpose~” ‘The poison master pulls out a weighty golden orb, his drunken state quickly fading’

“Where'd ya get that?” ‘The Bandit eyes the treasure, reaching for it only for The Elocutionist to smack his hand away’

“Hah, some wandering healer… let's see how this works…” ‘The Toxicologist shakes the orb to no avail’

“Hm, seems like it'd need a spark” ‘The Immolator added on, lifting a pint off the second pyre of beer’

“Please don't burn this place down.” ‘The Elocutionist pleads with the pyromancer’

‘The Criminal snapped, from which a small light blossomed, the poisoner put the orb towards him, Dublinn's flame ignites the license as it begins to eliminate smoke’

“How'dya evenuse that- ‘Hic’ thing…?” ‘The Brigadier asks, his words slurred as he lays in a pool of his own alcoholic vomit’

“Well… last I've seen ‘em used was like…” ‘The Toxicologist clears his throat before badly mimicking a deep voice’

“I SHALL PU-!” 

‘BASH’ ‘The Toxicologist smacks the orb against the shoulder plate of The Brigadier’ 

“Ow- hey- cutitout…!” ‘The Brigadier drunkenly called out’

“-RI-” ‘The Toxicologist bashes the orb against him once more, a sizeable cloud of sour smoke waking the Victorian up’

‘The crowd cheers as the disoriented Brigadier tries to defend himself from the scrawny Taran’

“-FY!!!” ‘The Toxicologist shouts, breaking the orb on the shoulder of The Brigadier’

‘The crowd roars as the Victorian falls to the ground groaning in pain’

‘The Criminals step over the passed out and the dented in drunkard’

“We'll have what they had!” ’The Elocutionist shouts as the speakeasy grows to soaring heights’

‘The party has begun’

‘She walks again in those comforting wheatfields, in the distance she can see it’

‘Purple light blazes the outskirts of the field, it encloses her’

‘She doesn't feel the comfort’

‘Where’s Papa’

‘Where’s… home?’

‘Her eyes flash open in the darkened room, the splitting headache subsiding as she sits up rubbing her temples’

‘The sound of the band playing in the speakeasy below eases her mind’

“Gh… bloody hell…” ‘The Feline slumps down’ “That dream again…” ‘The caster mutters before standing up and cracking the rooms door open’

‘She slowly walks down the staircase to find her staff propped next to the door, a brief moment of panic flushing her out of color’

‘Hastily grabbing her staff, she hears commotion from the door next to her’

“Alrighty- ‘Hic’ That’ll do’” ‘The Bandit says triumphantly tying another casque to the resting gargoyle’

“Wha- The bloody hell are you doing to my beast?!” ‘Mandragora asks opening the door and quickly rushing out to the intoxicated vagrant’

“Urk- I- uhh… Wizzy wazzy barkeep told me ye were- ‘Hic’ bringing booze to your group so I’d help out in that-” ‘The Bandit says slumped over the grotesque’s steadfast wings’

“Oh you bloody sod- Get off of it before it bites you on accident-” ‘Mandragora goes to help The Bandit’

“He's a good boy… He's a good boy…” ‘The Bandit mutters as he gets pulled onto a bind of stone’

‘Mandragora annoyedly waves her staff around, a diligent amber hue emanating from the head of her staff as the rocks pick The Bandit up in a grasp’

“Your ass is getting put back with the rest, unless you come along” ‘Mandragora says, walking with The Bandit being hurled closely behind her’

“I only had a few- ‘Hic’ drinks!! Let me go…” ‘The Criminal tries to thrash around but the earthen grasp doesn't let go’

“Shut it.” ‘Mandragora spits at The Bandit before carrying him inside the speakeasy’

“Ah- Commander you’re awake!” ‘The host calls out happily before spotting the hand of rocks carrying The Bandit’

“Augh… Pocket…” ‘The Bandit tries to reach out to Mandra before being seated rather aggressively by the grasp of stone’

“What’s the issue now? Toxicologist packed a nice sobering blend for ya?” ‘Mandra cackles a tiny amount as she follows his orders and reaches into his pocket’

‘A letter’

‘Without much hesitation, the Feline opens it up as the host goes to help The Bandit not follow the fate that many others had became victim of this night’

‘The letter reads’

“Hey!! If you’re reading this please give it to Mandragora, I’ll be likely too drunk by the time we meet, The Leader has brought us an order about a noble meddling in an abandoned quarry called ‘The Chasm’ and she considers you the best candidate to investigate >.o

- The Toxicologist on behalf of The Bandit (He can’t write but doesn't want you to know it hehehehehe)”

‘Mandra closes the letter and blinks a few times, before grumbling’

“No rest for the wicked… The Leader…” ‘Mandragora mutters to herself’

“Err, Commander, apologies for my curiosity but what did the letter-” ‘The host indulges in the caster’s stunned face’

“It’s a mission for us. Tomorrow we’ll party at the outpost and then… we’ll go do that mission.” ‘Mandragora’s gaze softens on The Bandit, drunkenly babbling in his sleep’

“What bloody idiot you are…” ‘Mandragora mutters, her cold tone slightly thawing before she goes to the back of the speakeasy’

‘She inspects the gargoyle, at least eighteen casks of different alcohol’

“Me cousin runs the local brewery and he was up to give us as much booze as we needed… but with the amount that’s spilling on the floor we’re almost already out” ‘The host chuckles rubbing the back of his head, joining Mandragora in observing the gargoyle’

“Oh so this is what he needed it for, huh, seems like enough booze to sate the boys back at camp” ‘The short Taran man exclaims, going to pat the gargoyle’

“Aye.” ‘Mandragora nods, stealthily tapping her staff against the ground, causing the grotesque to spread its wings and release a silent howl’

‘Surprisingly, the host doesn't flinch’

“Hah, can’t scare me, commander… I’ve grown rather trusting of these… they saved my life more than I can count!” ‘The Taran man says with a smile, allowing Mandragora to mantle the beast’

“...Huh, you’re one brave bloody bastard, I’ll give ya that…” ‘Mandragora tries to hide her smile before the gargoyle sets flight’

“Be the one who sets the sun, commander!” ‘The Dublinn host waves to Mandragora’

“Aye aye comrade!” ‘The Caster shouts back as the gargoyle rises above speaking distance’

‘To face the sins is a way for us to cope with the delusion of our grandiose purpose, in all reality we are but pawns in a game of naught but,’

‘To face this knowledge is not to seek acceptance but to seek tranquility’

“What do you mean by that”

‘Nothing, everything, somewhere between that.‘

“So much for you being a guide…”

Chapter Text

Ruins

‘The ruins of Hillock’s outskirts stand tall, archways, pillars lead to nowhere, an interesting historical sight to behold’

“You’re not going out sightseeing the city?” ‘Mandragora asks the Evocator assisting in the mapping out of Hillock’

“Nay, commander. I’m much more interested in the outskirts… This place, it was once quite a large castle, those ruins still stand as we see… gardens, wells, walls…” ‘The Evocator solemnly remarks gazing upon the mossy ruins’

“Hm, smart for you to do. Easier to burn scum without knowing how they whinge.” ‘The unmasked caster says walking through the dirt pathways’

‘Stone statues roughly resembling gargoyles stand tall on some still intact archways’

“This place would be an excellent place for me to set up my brood, these ruins could use some decoration, don’t you agree?” ‘Mandragora asks, lowering a pillar to their level before stepping onto it’

‘The spiral masked Evocator nods, stepping onto the pillar’

‘The earth rises back letting the two gain an aerial view’

“Hm, no doubt this place would host Taran gatherings, Victorian officers definitely prowl this shithole every night…” ‘Mandragora’s anger grows as she stares at the tall tower in the distance’

“So, that’s our mission, correct, commander?” ‘Joel asks the Feline, his gaze too fixated on the comms tower of Hillock’

“Yeah, The Brigadier probably convinced that old bloody colonel to move it around here” ‘The caster exclaims, the pillar lowering once more’

‘The two leisurely step down and continue their march across the ruins’

“I’ve got an err… letter, yesterday, how familiar are you with this land?” ‘Mandra asks the tall Evoctor, his silence breaking after a moment of thinking’

“Hm, have read about this place for some time now, but unless it’s something story worthy I’m afraid…” ‘The Evocator’s thoughts are interrupted by Mandragora’s straightforwardness’ 

“The Chasm, supposedly some kind of quarry… The Bandit gave me a letter about something going on there…” ‘The caster opens the letter once more’

‘The Evocator stays silent for a while, listening to the fowlbeast chirping call out on the empty ruins’

“Yeah… Victoria’s stain, a land that had been hammered away by Catastrophe after Catastrophe… Nobles all across Victoria had gone there to extract the Originium, it’s what fuels the mobile cities… Suppose after there was nothing to lap up, whoever was left with that useless land turned it into a quarry” ‘Joel recounts, a small smile below his mask, finally getting to tell a story’

“So, what you’re saying is that this place likely has a deep access into the earth…” ‘Mandragora mutters, already imagining the possibilities’

“Commander, surely you’re not considering investigating an active Originium zone, right?” ‘The Evocator hesitantly asks the wide smile wearing Feline’

“I mean if what you’re saying is right, every small shard should’ve already been drawn out of the ground, right?” ‘Mandragora suggests, her tone more self justifying’

“... I suppose you’re correct, and the duke governing over it would likely not care.” ‘The Evocator nods’

“The Leader is truly a genius strategist! I shall be able to create such powerful grotesques!” ‘Mandragora frolics to the depressive gaze of the Evocator’

‘The pyromancer looks towards his commander, his fist clenched into a fist’

“... Commander.” ‘Joel calls out, his tone full of anger’

“Why do you follow The Leader? Why so vehemently?” ‘The Evocator asks, his pained tone echoing behind his mask slightly muffling it’

‘Expecting anger, the Evocator braces for impact, but instead; Mandra simply stops her celebration and only silence meets the guard of the magician’

“... I… Cillian asked me this back in the prison… I- I never answered him, did I?” ‘Mandra asks herself, her tone growing to a whisper’ “… The Leader saved my life, dragged me out of the pit which I was meant to die in, showed me how I wasn’t as powerless as I thought…” ‘Mandragora’s tone grows in confidence’ “I- I Mandragora have been enlightened by the mighty Leader.” ‘She chokes out in confidence, standing proud after her struggled monologue’

“... I… See. Thank you commander, thank you for enlightening me.” ‘The Evocator grits his teeth, but his hand returns to an open palm turned to his side’

“Hm, glad you got some bloody clearance, don't worry, I’ll aint gonna betray our cause any time soon!” ‘Mandragora’s smile strikes a sinister tone in the Evocator’

“With that done… this bloody place can get a nice overhaul, how’d ya reckon the rest are holding up with all that booze?” ‘Mandra asks the Evocator, lightening the mood’

“Last I checked, many returning from Hillock also brought different kinds of alcohol. Expect the worst, Mandragora, commander.” ‘The condescending words of Joel strike a calming note in the Feline’s mind’

“Once they’re sobered up, I’ll gather the capable fellas in case we get into trouble with some baron extracting poor quality marble” ‘Mandragora says, animating one of the ruin gargoyles, effortlessly causing it to break out and fly down to their level’

“... Just lead us to a brighter day. Commander.” ‘Joel requests the caster before joining her atop the newly formed grotesque’

Ambush

‘Specters roam the forests’

‘A small mining town near The Chasm, naught but a bunch of carts and a handful of houses’

‘A man in tactical gear overlooks the carts full of crushed rocks’

“Tidings, sir.” ‘A woman’s voice pierces his ears, turning around he immediately reaches for his holster’

“Restricted territory girl-” ‘The Vouivre man shouts out in a Columbian tone, his voice choking as he stares into the hollow eyes of a gargoyle’

“Well well, and here I thought it was an abandoned Originium mine turned quarry~ Why would a place be so restricted, sir?” ‘Mandragora asks, laying on top of the rocky beast as a handful of Dublinn soldiers circle the houses’

“I- I-” ‘The Columbian man stumbles his words, his hand reaching towards his holster further’

“I suggest you don't try pulling any funny business, you dont stink like a bloody Victorian, who are you?” ‘The caster asks, somewhat unamused’

“Err- Name’s Robin- Robin Williams, I- I’m a security guard for Blacksteel Worldwide-” ‘The Columbian mercenary exclaims backing off from the rocky beast’

“So much for a security guard, what’s going on here?” ‘The caster presses the man further’

“That’s- That’s confidential” ‘He replies, his voice shaking’

‘Without being able to reply, the Blacksteel mercenary pulls out their handgun and fires three bullets into the head of the rocky beast’

‘Before anyone could react, a powerful bolt strikes through the chest, the man dropping like a sack of hammers’

“Pft, trying to shoot a piece of rock?” ‘The crossbower cackles as he reloads his prized piece, steam bellowing out of the machinery of the handheld ballista’

‘Mandragora’s Dublinn gatherers behind their commander as the crossbow wielder whistles’

“The Leader sent us as reinforcements, pleasure to meet cha” ‘The man kneels to the small Taran as more guerrilla forces emerge from the forest’

“This is a covert mission, we are not here to engage major enemy groups” ‘The Shieldbearer exclaims, approaching the gargoyle’s side’

“Afraid that won't be the case, we investigated and found quite the large amount of terrible, most wielding guns, Columbian make no doubt” ‘The raspy voiced crossbower rebutted the companion knight’

“Well, glad we didn't bring the fresh meat to get shot to bloody bits,” ‘Mandragora hops off her grotesque’ “Who in the blazes are you? Soldier of Dublinn.”

“Me? Name’s Hogan, leader of the Dublinn crossbower regiment, not the scout force of Dublinn.” ‘The crossbower pulls his mask, a smug old man with their crossbow over their back’

“Hmph. Well, what’s your plan to get rid of these fools?” ‘Mandragora asks the fellow commander’

“How many of these rocky creatures ya got?” ‘The crossbower asks pointing to the grotesque’

“As many as the earth allows, but as of now… about fifteen flying in the treeline.” ‘The caster replies nonchalantly’

“Hmph, gifted fools come dime a dozen in Dublinn, huh, well, we can surround their little operation, and as ya make your way there… boom, all of us start unloading on em” ‘Hogan says pointing to the fifty or so red accented crossbowmen standing orderly, in contrast to the practical stance of Mandra’s force’

“An ambush is most preferable, if my opinion matters, commander.” ‘The Shadowblade voices his opinion’

“Aye… I bloody heard ya, fine, I’ll trust The Leader’s plan, make your stand and I’ll gather my brood.” ‘The caster nods to the delight of the crossbow master’

“Aye, that’s a good soldier!” ‘The Dublinn commander exclaimed, raising a hand to his regiment, with a series of signals, disappearing into the woods’

‘The sky burns bright with the midday sun, Colombian forces patrolling the above grounds as heavy machinery draws out crushed earth into the bottom of the deep pit’

‘A gargoyle bashes through the trees as the rocky beast makes a firm stance upon the Blacksteel campground’

“Abnormality detected, all agents on standby.” ‘The comms tower stationed on The Chasm’s perimeter echoes through before a powerful bolt strikes the tower emitting the robotic voice’

‘The grotesque howls as more of its brothers fly into the ground’

‘Gunfire meets the head of the grotesque breaking chunks off as a mercenary peppers it with a light machine gun’

“Call in the Mama!” ‘One of the Columbians shout as more soldiers rush to the ’

‘The harmed grotesque howls as it charges the firing mercenary’

‘Mandragora’s staff taps against the dirt road, her gargoyles prove steadfast as Dublinn marches in, the elites of her group bright burning Refraction battle the dust kicked up by the cavalcade of stone’

‘As the gargoyle charges-’

‘CLASH’

‘- A drill meets the side of its face, attached to the forearm of an Anaty woman wearing civilian clothing, a hardhat, and a delighted smile’

“You rang sugar?” ‘She asks, sending the Tombkeeper Grotesque flying into the dirt before the madwoman activates her drill’

“... And here I thought only Victoria had bloody lunatics, or maybe this place just calls for em” ‘Mandragora fumes, tapping her staff against the ground causing earthen pillars to rip from the ground’

‘Bolts begin to pick off Columbian infantry as the gunmen draw themselves closer to combat bunkers’

“They’ve been expecting us.” ‘The Shadowblade remarks’

“Commander, permission to smudge their flame’s out?” ‘The Shieldbearer asks, walking beside the marching band of gargoyle protected Dublinn’

“Are you bloody crazy?! Stay away from that damn woman and sure.” ‘Mandragora exclaims, pointing her staff towards the woman turning her beloved rock beast into fine powder’

‘The Anaty woman stands up and parries one of the incoming pillars by drilling through it whole’

“And who’re you to mess with the Mama’s boys? Givin’ an ole’ girl a hard job now!” ‘The painfully Columbian madwoman charges towards the gargoyle bastion protecting Dublinn’s forces’

‘Mandragora gulps, and then yells’

“Oh how pretentious you bloody lot are! How about I give you a true taste of what we do to jackasses in our home!” ‘Mandragora yells out, reforming the wall of grotesques to swarm the one they call Mama’

‘By the time the Feline could look to the other side, the companion knights had already eviscerated a bunker full of Columbian riflemen, only demonstrated by Mido’s blood drenched blade and the splattering on the Shieldberarer’s armor’

“For Dublinn! For Tara!” ‘The Shieldbearer yells out before the loud mechanical thud of something incredibly menacing echoes behind the comms tower’

“Engage… R31 pro… protocol” ‘The broken volume system calls out in a static filled struggle’

“Dublinn! Unite!” ‘Mandragora commands, slamming her staff down as she causes a rockshield to form around her troupe, bullets graze off as the Taran mob advance into the pit’s entrance, a walkable path established for mechanical traversal in mind’

‘As the two companion guards try to make it back, the Shieldbearer instinctively turns around, holding his shield out’

‘PUNCH’

‘The enormous fist strikes the shield of the Taran, in front of him glared the hollow helmet of a Columbian power armor’

‘PUNCH’

‘PUNCH’

‘PUNCH’

‘His shield cracks, only for a saving Hail Mary, a pillar of rock strikes the head of the mech’

“RUN YOU BUMBLING IDIOT!” ‘The caster shouts as the Shadowblade quickly runs away with the Shieldbearer on his back’

‘The Taran crowd backs deeper into The Chasm as the Columbian soldiers get further harassed by the Dublinn hail of bolts’

‘Gunfire pierces the rockshield as soldiers fall over unable to follow Mandragora’s lead’

“No… NO!!” ‘Mandragora shouts out before the Shadowblade screams’

“COMMANDER! PLEASE GET THOSE WE CAN TO SAFETY!” ‘The pained scream of the Shadowblade gives a pained understanding for the Feline, clenching her staff as the rock shield draws the very pathway to their aid’

‘The first Dublinn hit the floor of the quarry, a large tunnel’s maw greeting them’

“INSIDE, MEN!” ‘The small Feline screams, her voice cracking as she holds her staff to the advancing robots walking down the pathway in a horribly slow manner’

‘The rock shield connects to the quarry walls as Dublinn evocators led by Joel make their way in, followed by the foot soldiers still alive, chosen by Mandra’

“Bloody Victoria… Bloody Columbia Bloody…” ‘Mandragora loses her train of thought and just begins to scream in anger, in pain, her grip tightens on her staff as her gaze lingers on the Dublinn soldiers trampled over by Columbia’s finest mechs, those few gargoyles still alive fly towards her in aid, that madwoman’s cackle fills the air as one of her beasts crashes into the earth below with ‘Mama’ standing atop it triumphantly’

‘Mandragora slams her staff down in the entrance of the tunnel, the ground ruptures as her voice cracks even further’

‘The earth begins to shake as the walls of the mineshaft begin to creep inwards before a deafening crack of stone shuts the tunnel tight, locking one of Mandragora’s gargoyles in mid flight’

The Chasm

‘The Taran caster falls to the ground shaking with anger’

‘She stArts to bash the ground with her hand’

“GOD- DAMNIT- WHY-” ‘Mandragora shouts in pain’

“Commander.” ‘Joel tries to call out for the Feline, The Evocator’s flames illuminating the dim mineshaft’

“WHY- DO- I- NEVER-” ‘Mandragora wails on the ground until her grasp hits her staff, causing it to bleed’

“I- I-” ‘Mandragora looks at her bleeding fist grown purple by her rage’

“Commander… we all signed up to fight and die for Tara.” ‘Joel replies, his tone pained, yet still reaching for Mandragora’s hand’

“Not me leading them to bloody doom… What a jackass I am… WHAT BLOODY JACK-” ‘Joel grabs the wrist of Mandragora would be swinging hand’

“Commander Mandragora! Stop! It’s- It won’t bring them back…” ‘Joel pleads with Mandragora’

‘Instinctively, Mandragora’s staff flashes amber as a piece of rock juts out stopping just before piercing the spiral mask’

“You… You… foolish bloody bastard” ‘Mandragora pulls her arm away from Joel’

“We lost twelve men…” ‘The meek Dublinn guard calls out tending to the Shieldbearer, his head resting on the Shadowblade’s lap’

“... It’s okay… It’s okay… You did good… Just keep steady… I’m here” ‘The Shadowblade whispers to him, overlooked by other similar round masks’

“... Lost mine during a Victorian ambush, explosives got em’” ‘One of the lesser shadowblades exclaims, gazing at the resting guard’

‘There are no words spoken, the masked glare of the Shadowblade elite strikes true fear in the lesser companion’

“Pft… haa… that bastard will be back in ten minute tops, I’ve seen that bloody lunatic take on a cannon ball the size of one of my grotesque’s head” ‘The caster chuckles, standing up, her legs slightly shaking still’

“A true companion is there with his partner until the last moments. You betrayed him.” ‘Mido says in a deadpan tone’

“He gave me a chance to live longer.” ‘The shadowblade replies’

“Wrong answer.” ‘Mido replies’

“What? What would’ve been a better answer but to let his wish be fulfilled… for me to walk a new day, to see the next morning” ‘The shadowblade asks his superior accusatively’

“To punch me in the jaw for insulting your passed companion. Never let them be insulted. Keep their glory.” ‘Mido replies, his tone softened as he caresses the mask of the Shieldbearer’

“Glad you’re getting familiar with the new members of our entourage, let’s not spill more Taran… Blood…” ‘Mandra’s tone grows self penitent as her gaze digs into the caved in mine’

“Hm, The Leader was right, this stone sure looks and feels durable… Commander, did manipulating it get difficult?” ‘The meek Dublinn guard walks up between the two, curiously’

“Hah, bloody looks like it?” ‘Mandra asks standing in front of the caved in mineshaft’

“Oh- I- Apologies” ‘The meek Dublinn footsoldier responds’

“Commander Mandragora, should we start moving?” ‘One of the Evocators asks, using her flame to illuminate the halls awaiting them’

“Are you bloody sane? We have wounded! Go carry one, we wait until the Shieldbearer leader arises” ‘Mandragora spits out, checking her staff for potential damages’

“Bah- I have a slight headache but we can go in a bit, Commander.” ‘The Shieldbearer groans out in the lap of Mido’

“... I knew you were faking it.” ‘Mido replies’

“Doesn't make it any less comfortable.” ‘The Shieldbearer rebuts’

“You two… we’re not in the camp. On your feet.” ‘Mandragora claps her hands as she signals the evocators to light the way’

‘Mido stands up making the Shieldbearer fall to the ground in a groan, regardless, soon following the group’

“Hmph, why’d they even tunnel from a quarry, all there is is stone…” ‘Mandragora mutters to herself’

“Maybe for construction… no, then they’d just go dig the quarry deeper…” ‘The meek Dublinn footsoldier exclaims, following the Evocators’

“What I thought too… This place also got protected to no end… just what the hell…” ‘Mandragora’s words quiet as the frontline of Evocators make their way to the opening of a grand chasm’

“Eureka…” ‘The Shieldbearer says, being bumped by the meek Dublinn’

“I- the reflection… Do you people see it?” ‘His voice becomes shaky’

“See what…?” ‘Mandragora asks cautiously as they step upon the perimeter of the cavern, roads dug out of the bedrock with heavy tunneling tools scattered across the outskirts’

‘A small glint stares back each evocator’s flame as Joel steps forth’

‘He sighs and opens both of his palms’

‘The light of Dublinn illuminates their part of the cavern, just bright enough to illuminate one tiny point of it’

‘A giant Originium vein nearly extracted’

“W- woah…” ‘The Shieldbearer gasps at the magnificent sight that brought naught but terror in the meek Dublinn guard’s eyes’

“... This vein is the biggest I’ve ever seen…” ‘He whispers, stepping closer to the edge of the road, falling back upon discovering that it leads into nothingness’

“Hmph, hah, I think I remember ya, back when The Bandit beat that pirate down… you were the anxious one hiding behind my rubble” ‘Mandragora says with a slight, but still pained smile’

“Aye…” ‘The Dublinn man nods’

“Well, and it turns out you predicted it, clearly you have a good understanding of these… things.” ‘Mandragora recounted, her tone oddly respectful’

“Aye, name’s Roy Johnson, prize winning researcher… heh, could’ve secured a job at Rhine Labs or Rhodes Island, but chose home…” ‘The man says to himself gazing upon the vein’

“This… this vein can explode at any moment, this chasm would be filled with-” ‘Roy’s panic is sooted by Joel’s call’

“These blacksteel lads dug around with drills, I doubt us breathing too hard would set it off.” ‘The Evocator leader exclaims, lowering the flame’s light’

“Still no laughing matter, It’d be best if we leave…” ‘The meek Dublinn soldier mutters’

“Oh, mighty fine idea let us just leave through the way we had ONE THIRD OF OUR GROUP DIE!” ‘Mandragora shouts in anger’

“...” ‘Mandragora takes breather and rests her tone’

“Alright men, split to two sides checking the perimeter of this, me and the other capable combatants will stick by here and wait for those bloody Columbian to show their face” ‘Mandra says, her head low and breathing hazy’

‘Mandragora’s regiment listens, splitting to two sides headed by their respective evocators’

‘Mandragora examines the stones, Joel providing a great eyesight with his flames’

“Evocator… Joel, did you grow out of telling tales to get flames?” ‘Mandra asks while eyeing the ground’

“... You remember my name, commander. Why?” ‘Joel asks simply’

“You stuck by long enough, been with me since that bloody lunatic erupted our flamerazers” ‘Mandragora says tapping her staff’

‘Silence fills the cavern for a minute, only the distant groups of evocators alighting the exploring Dublinn’

“... Joel, do you… Do you want to know the truth behind him?” ‘Mandragora asks in a cold tone’

“No… Commander, I’m… I’m better without knowing. Commander.” ‘Joel replies hesitantly, his flame weavering slightly’

“Alright, alright… Just keep your flame steady and let’s…” ‘Mandragora begins drawing patterns into the bedrock’

‘Small chunks of rocks painfully extracted, the strength holding together the ground no doubt enhanced by the Originium veins presence’

“Come on… WORK DAMNIT!” ‘Mandragora looses her temper and slams her staff down’ 

‘The stone flies up kicking up the deep underground dust as a pale wing springs out’

‘A terrifying howl as the rough shaped head of the gargoyle pokes its face out of the stone which had taken up a liquid-like state’

“There! Born of Taran stone, not only soil but the very soul of our land!” ‘Mandragora’s anger subsides, replaced with a manic joy’

‘The pale gargoyle flies out of its coffin, landing atop the road in front of the Dublinn elite’

“By Tara…” ‘The Shadowblade mutters, the companion knight stepping forth’

“Commander, you clearly struggled with extracting this one… May I give it a stress test?” ‘The Shieldbearer puts his palm on the smooth head of the grotesque, naturally red accents emitted by the Originium dense bedrock’

“Phew… Now that you say it I do already feel sore, but we will have to make what… thirty? Fourty? Ah, give it a hit, if you shatter it, you’ll buy all of us booze after hillock’s overtake” ‘Manda hops onto the Tombkeeper’s back, the beast made entirely out of one piece, not cobbled together in the slightest like her lesser variants conjured through her journey’

“Alright, step back lads!” ‘The Shieldbearer dislodges his shield’

‘The shield flips around his arm attaching to his forearm, something alien to the rough cut companion guard’

‘BASH’

‘The shield collides with the gargoyle dust kicks up by the force of the strike’

“Woah-” ‘Mandragora flies off of her prized summon, her staff’s glow once more saving her from a rough landing as small rocks fly up to lessen her fall’

“Didn’t expect you to turn it into bloody rubble!” ‘Mandragora shouts, rushing back to the back of the grotesque and the wheezing companion guard captain’

“Haah… Haah…” ‘The Shieldbearer slumps down, staring at the ground for a second, the bottom of his shield thoroughly cracked’

‘Mandragora looks to the side, to her horror, the grotesque stood still, with only the everso slightest indent in its head’

“By the dragons…” ‘Joel exclaims lifting a flame up to the pale grotesque’

‘Mandragora couldn’t even form words in her excitement, only shakily reaching for the head of the grotesque, the staff’s hum causing the dent to return to its pristine form’

“Bloody miraculous…” ‘She manages to whisper with a crazed smile’

‘The three stand by as Mandragora begins to hastily draw patterns in the rock, digging away at it’

‘Soon after, lamps begin to light around the perimeter, cables around the cavern walls as they reach their destination of large humming lights’

‘Mandragora snaps out of her focus and steps around slamming her staff to the ground’

‘Begrudgingly, three earthen javelins spike out of the ground’

“Dublinn! Hold formation!” ‘Mandragora screams out, the group huddled behind the gargoyle gazing at the tunnel entryway’

“To be the one who sets the sun.” ‘The speaker system passes on the message to the calming Dublinn elite’

“... Phew… So it wasnt Columbian dogs, our men sure are something!” ‘Mandragora says wanting to go back to her extraction, only to fall victim to the sight her team had already became speechless of’

‘A giant dark vein of Originium stood upon a chasm, its bottom darkened by the lack of Blacksteel machinery, heart in the sea of void’

“... So this is what we’ve interrupted…” ‘Mandragora mutters to herself, her stand accompanying the rest of her squadron’

“Hm, commander, did you never notice it?” ‘The Shadowblade calls out, his gaze glued to the Originium vein’

“Apart from that one woman everyone has been a soldier.” ‘The Shadowblade rebutted, his hand firmly handed on the hilt of his blade’

“Maybe they’ve been waiting for the specialized crew to get this back to their homeland…” ‘The Shadowblade proposes, withdrawing from the now illuminated sight’

“Maybe they’ve been waiting for us.” ‘Joel exclaims, dusting his gloves off’

“Hah… haha surely- surely we never were lead into this-” ‘Mandragora begins to chuckle out of exhaustion’

“It’s better for us to not linger… Mandragora, commander, we will standby while you do… err… your specialty.” ‘The Evocator exclaims while looking out in the illuminated space’

“We have acquired new tools!” ‘The Dublinn controlled intercom once again lights up as in the distance loud cheering echoes through’

“Hmph, mining equipment? Doubt our regiment needs any-” ‘Mandragora exclaims as the distant sounds turn to screaming as one shape can be made out above the chasm’

“AAAAAAAA THIS IS NOT FUN ANYMORE!!!!” ‘The Originium professor shouts on holding onto a flying pod’s handlebars with all their might’

“...” ‘Mandragora is flabbergasted as she witnesses the Dublinn footsoldier with barely held together flying gear operate their new toy’

“COMMANDER HEEEELP!!!!” ‘The man shouts out as the hovercraft calmly makes its way to the caster’

“I thought he was a coward.” ‘Mido claimed’

“Sounds like that has not changed.” ‘Joel replies’

“Actions speak louder than words.” ‘Mido rebutted’

‘The sheepish Taran continued to fly towards the group as the perimeter showed the sight of a dozen following Dublinn soldiers too riding on these devices’

“Likely what these miners used around the vein, though I’m no Columbian” ‘Joel continued to converse with Mido as the four watch the helpless Taran’

“Curious how The Accountant had yet to purchase a regiment’s worth of these tools.” ‘The Shaodowblade responded to the equally as bored sounding Evocator’

“You two have such a bloody good skill to make a situation like this seem clinical…” ‘Mandragora grits her teeth as she thumps her staff against the earth, painstakingly making it reach out to the terrified Taran’

‘The bedrock forms as a hand of stone guides the hovercraft down’

“Ack-” ‘Roy jumps out of the machine, causing the helmet to stay behind as the unmasked Dublinn soldier lays down onto the ground’ “Haa… Haa… My life flashed before my eyes…”

‘He said between gasps’

“Hmph, what bloody fool decides to drive their way above a chasm, not even I’m that foolhardy.” ‘Mandragora scolds the scientist as the companion knights paired with the Evocator examine the machine’

“I- I didn't know how to change direction and when it went over the pit I- I-” ‘Roy’s words jumble as he begins to blabber on’

“Ack- save your bloody breath, you made it through just fine, where’d y'all get these?” ‘Mandragora asks glancing up to see the rest of the now hovering Dublinn division’

“Warehouse set up at the chasm’s side, it also had this place’s comms so we-” ‘Roy says exhaling heavily’

“We heard what we heard, ah so this is how it works!” ‘The Shieldbearer says looking at its machinery’

“It’s- It’s an Originium powered floatation device, learnt about them when studying-”

“- Rim Billiton’s history with mining?” ‘Joel finishes Roy’s sentence’

“Yes… Yes… that’s it, but why would-” ‘The scientist asks getting up, legs shaking as they are welcomed by the bedrock’

“Seem’s like we poked our nose in something not too Victorian, heh, expected for some bloody nobles to send in foreign companies… Bet the only thing keeping them from sending Taran to die in this pit was their fear of us!” ‘Mandragora says with an anger soaked tone’

“Hmph, regardless, we’re here now, what’s our next move?” ‘Mido asks, still gazing to the Originium vein’

“I guess you folk can get comfortable, set up some barricades while I raise a couple more… Think I got this bloody mess figured out” ‘Mandragora says fidgeting with her staff, before returning to drawing shapes in the stone’

“Well… I err… Suppose I could tell some stories” ‘Joel shrugs his shoulders as the hover part of Mandra’s team make their way back whilst the other splinter group too begins marching back’

Weavering flames

‘The caster digs away at the earth, a pyre of flame warming the cold cavern, the fluorescent light illuminates The Chasm in an oddly comfortable fashion’

“It has veins like blood vessels…” ‘The researcher notes, sitting on the edge of the perimeter, feet dangling into the darkness’

“What? Calling out for you? Moments ago you were on the verge of flying into it!” ‘The Shieldbearer laughs, sitting on the back of the pale Tombkeeper’

“Ugh, who has the rations? Last night’s booze ain’t doing good to my empty stomach…” ‘One of the lesser companion guards groans, sitting down beside the fire’

“Hah, didn’t bring food, have ya, numbskull?” ‘A shadowblade retorts throwing his pack over to the guard’

“Aye’ didn’t expect us to be held up, thought I could forage and whatnot…” ‘The guard replies in a sour tone’

“Hah, forage? In THAT armor? Better luck asking the evocators to char some tree bark for ye to chew on!” ‘A shadowblade chuckles, stretching his back’

‘The lighthearted chatter between companion knights, not even knowing each other's names yet so brazenly sharing rations’

“... Is it true that the newest companion regiments are trained in larger groups and not in pairs?” ‘Mido asks the expressive shadowblade’

“Aye’ why’d ya ask? Ye don’t strike me as someone who was among the first trainees… hell, probably learnt alongside us but got all cozy with the commander…” ‘The shadowblade remarks towards his superior’

“Oh boy, this oughta be fun” ‘The Shieldbearer lays back as Mido remains calm for a moment’

‘Mandragora yells out in triumph as a second grotesque breaks its earthen shell’

“Does the name Knossos strike a note to you?” ‘Mido asks curiously’

“Err… No, not particularly?” ‘The shadowblade replies, intimidated by the tone of the Shadowblade’

‘The Evocator leader glances to the Shadowblade commander as soon as those words had left his mouth’

“Used to be one of the worst bandits a man could run into in Victoria. Known for his ancient Minoan combat style with that infamous beast… ‘The Minotaur’, some say that Dublinn chose to have the companion knight regiments mimic that legendary pair…” ‘Joel peaks, his spiral masked gaze returning to the flame’ 

“They were active not so long ago, surprising that it's so sparsely known…” ‘Joel continues to monologue, catching the interest of the companion guards and shadowblades alike’

“Heard my nan say that if my little brother runs into the woods, the Minotaur might eat them…” ‘One of the companion guards sheepishly replies’

“I would never eat kids!” ‘The companion guard captain replies accusatively’

“...” ‘Silence fills the room’

“...” ‘Deafening silence’

“...” ‘Only all pairs of eyes around the fire gazing towards the Shieldbearer’

“... Mido, did I say something wrong?” ‘The Shieldbearer asks, slightly embarrassed compared to Mido’s major embarrassment’

“Yes. You have. Very much so.” ‘The Shadowblade says, calmly sitting by the fire’

“Wait- wait wait wait are you two??” ‘The shadowblade asks, his excitement practically radiant’

“... Yes.” ‘Mido replies bluntly’

“Hm, makes sense, you two always struck me as odd…” ‘Joel mentions in passing, the flames weavering a little’

“... I never ate a kid…” ‘The Shieldbearer mutters’

“There’s no way you two are these supposed legendary bandits! I- I mean- what the Evocator said-” ‘The companion guard stArts to stutter’

“What’s the matter? We’re in the same boat, we’re fighting the same cause, also… Mido, does this mean we are their teachers?” ‘The Shieldbearer asks, surprisingly calm to their secret being dismayed’

“I suppose it does.” ‘Mido replies sparsely, adjusting his mask as he returns his gaze to the flame’

“I- I’m sorry sir Knossos- I- I didn’t-” ‘The shadowblade pleads with the Shadowblade’

“That is not my name.” ‘Mido replied harshly’

“Hm, if it's true that you two are those very same bandits… Shieldbearer.” ‘Joel calls out in an unnaturally cold tone’

“Why are you fighting for Dublinn?” ‘The spiral mask stares at the companion guard’

“What kind of question is that?!” ‘The Shieldbearer replies, holding his damaged shield close to himself’

“You’re told to be this mythic beast from Minos, and yet, you’re here, surrounded by Taran in the depths of Victoria.” ‘Joel replies, his tone like winter’

‘In the background, a scream is heard’

“WOOOHOOO! ARISE MY BEAST! CLAIM YOUR RANK AMONG TARA!” ‘Mandragora shouts as one more grotesque breaks its earthen mold’

“... I was born in Tara, lived my life here.” ‘The companion knight grabs his Dublinn mask which became part of his reinforced helmet and lifts it off’

‘Two horns filed down, a rough, scarred face with a small bashful on it’

“I may not be Feline like Mido, or Taran like the rest of you… but as far as I’m concerned, I’m as much of Dublinn as any of ya” ‘The Forte man exclaims with a wide smile’

“Hm, figured by your stance, it would be an odd sight to meet a Taran that tall, even less someone built so… broad.” ‘Joel exclaims, fiddling with his mask’

‘The companion guards and shadowblade continue to stare at their inspiration, unnerving the Shieldbearer’

“He- hey now everyone, why are you staring at me??” ‘The Forte brute asks putting his mask back on’

“How did you come to be born in Tara?”

“How did you and Shadowblade Mido meet?”

“Are Forte horns soft like Feline ears?”

“Are you sure you’re not a Sarkaz?”

“What was the coolest battle you did?”

‘The questions flood the companion knight as he withdraws from the flame’

“Huff… Huff… this is… exhausting” ‘Mandragora kneels down as the fourth grotesque arises’

“Don’t strain yourself, boss.” ‘The Shieldguard picks up the caster’

“Huff… let go, I need to… I need it for The Leader…” ‘Mandragora says, her hands shaking as her staff’s light flickers’

“What The Leader needs is an officer that’s well rested, we already have four, we’ll be fine.” ‘The Shieldbearer scolds the small Feline’

‘Mandra grumbles a bit, but complies with the companion knight’

“Hm, Roy, what are you dwelling on?” ‘The gaze of Joel advances from the flame, to Mandra, to the meek Taran’

‘Examining the machinery while the Shieldbearer seats the exhausted Feline, Roy mutters’

“This machinery is run on Originium, but so little…” ‘The researcher continues to grumble as Joel joins in’

“I see how it works now! It uses Originium batteries, these babies can run for a month straight with their current fueling!” ‘Roy exclaims with a wide smile’

“Sheesh, no wonder they fuel mobile cities with this…” ‘One of the Dublinn shadowblades remark’

“What’s with all the extra accessories?” ‘Joel asks, gazing at the nearly ripped out tube connected to a visor similar to a welder’s’

“It’s a way to keep the person in place, protect from debris, not made for combat by all means but these platforms even have a medium range mining device… Mainly useful for stone or Originium but it would work on… more.” ‘The footsoldier remarks closing up the open engine hatch, inside it a silent Originium motor’

“Bloody fantastic… huff… my back hurts…” ‘Mandragora calls over to the examining pair of engineering enthusiasts’

“Hm, I’m sure we could make this work with our footsoldiers, ain’t that right Mandragora?” ‘The Forte Shieldbearer asks putting his hand onto the handle bar of the hovercraft’

“... A strong enough strike could knock it off course if we were to try it in combat” ‘The meek Taran exclaims in concern’

“Oh you bloody idiot! You’re not gonna have a team of only hovercraft, there’ll be Phalanx, regular foot soldiers and the companion pairs… and my grotesques” ‘Mandragora groans out trying to stand up, leaning on her staff’

“Commander Mandragora please rest-” ‘The Shadowblade captain voices his concerns, only for a growl to be returned’

“You- You worry about yourself, won't ya? Now let me make The Leader… The Leader proud!” ‘Mandragora storms back to the summoning grounds more so resembling a graveyard of excavated coffins than a road, the complete grotesques standing guard in front of the tunnel, their calm demeanor striking dread in any Dublinn that saw their stress test’

“That lass sure is dedicated…” ‘The Shieldbearer mutters, returning to the flame’

‘Hours fly by, Dublinn soldiers sharing their past with the rest, test driving hovercraft, and listening to wisdom by those seeing war more so a way of life now’

‘Light begins to glow in the tunnel’

‘The Dublinn soldiers gather behind the now eight pale grotesques, awaiting the light to near them close enough to make out the Columbian attackers’

‘Surprisingly, one of Mandragora’s grotesques escapes the shadow, walk out of the tunnel and meeting the wall of much higher quality creatures of stone’

‘Steam unclasps as a pair of goggles shine above the rocky beast, the old man sitting atop the tombkeeper’

“Looky ere’! Knew you folk were not gonna topple so easy!” ‘The crossbow leader exclaimed, followed by the silent, purple Refraction of Dublinn’s crossbow experts’

“Hm, you dug us out? Thought Columbians were gonna wipe you folk out.” ‘The Shieldbearer shouts out, standing atop one of Mandra’s finest grotesques’

“Bah! Gonna take more than that to finish us, one good shot and each one was gone… whoever could, left back with their fancy ship, couldn’t shoot it down since I was all outta steam!” ‘The old ranger exclaims, hopping off the grotesque and making his way to the wall of its kin’

“Oi’ Mido! Call of command! We have reinforcements!” ‘The Shieldbearer yells out to the Shadowblade and Evocator cautiously looking at the Feline drawing a series of twenty or so patterns’

“Err, Commander Mandragora?” ‘Joel tries to call out’

“Do you think she hears us, mage?” ‘Mido replies, his sarcasm barely noticeable’

“I hear ya, I bloody hear ya…” ‘Mandragora says exhausted, weakly waving her staff towards her grotesques’

‘Pale gates welcome the Crossbow regiment’

“I like what ya done to this place… Tunnel under some quarry! Sounds straight out a fairy tale” ‘The elder sniper mentions, walking past the gargoyles and onto the open camp, Dublinn soldiers returning to rest to the everburning ball of flame conjured by the elite Evocator’

“By Tara…” ‘The old man stops dead in his track’

“Never seen one of these before, old timer?” ‘The Evocator asks, noticing the man’s gaze towards the giant Originium vein’

“... Hey- Bloody hell’s ya calling me old for? You sound just as, if not older!” ‘The sniper snaps out of his trance, many of his snipers failing to do such’

“So this is what they were so over the top for…” ‘One of the crossbowers exclaim’

“Aye’ we had enough time to search the place to, they left us some nifty mining equipment” ‘One of Mandra’s shadowblade exclaims, pointing to the floating Dublinn guards soaring above the void’

“... How bloody demented, reminds me why I joined in with this gaggle o’ fools!” ‘The old man say pulling his mask aside and taking out a pipe’

“So’ What’re ye doing so deep?” ‘The sniper leader asks lifting his pipe to the open flame’

“Aside from fearing the worst, commander Mandragora had found pristine molding stone.” ‘The Meek Dublinn guard exclaims, resting on his hover pod’

“Hmph, what’re you afraid of? Us biting the ground against some Columbian fools?” ‘The old man chuckles, taking a puff of his pipe, a ring of smoke escaping his lips as the snipers join the overlook of the rogue camp’

“Yes. Sniper commander.” ‘Mido replies bluntly, looking back to the now sprawling Dublinn camp’

“Hah, through all my time I hadn’t had one group doubt our expertise, first time for everything I suppose, and me losing ten or so bets…” ‘The old man says, going to the edge and sitting down in front of the Void’s opening’

“Commander Hogan, sir.” ‘One of the snipers calls out cautiously’

“What is it comrade?” ‘The commander looks behind him, his gaze blocked out by the large crossbow decorating his back’

“Isn’t it dangerous to stay near… that?” ‘The crossbower points to the heart shaped vein’

“Ha… You wouldn’t know how dangerous this place is” ‘Roy exclaims pessimistically, still dangling off his hovercraft’

“Bah! If this place is good enough for Columbians, it’s good ‘nuff for us” ‘The old man says before puffing once more’

“That’s what I’ve been saying to these bloody paranoids!” ‘Mandragora shouts over, her voice bright with only a slight hint of exhaustion’

“Err… Commander, you sound… like you’re about to do something really terrible” ‘The Shieldbearer joins the two in staring at the Feline’

“Hah, maybe so, but I have enough faith in you lot, so here goes nothing!” ‘Mandragora says before slamming her staff down, instead of the staff producing amber light, the floor begins to glow with the muffled hues as grotesques begin to break out of their shell’

“Haa… Haa… Come on… Come on…” ‘Mandragora tries to focus’

“Work you bloody-” ‘Mandragora’s eyes close shut, her mouth chokes and her hearing goes blunt’

‘All she can feel is the cold, desolate cavern wind’

‘She focuses all her might, she may not hear it, she may not speak it, but she’s chanting’

‘She begins to float, she hears only the howls of gargoyles, the howling winds and the deafening crackle of fire’

“For Tara, for Dublinn, for Tara, for Dublinn…” ‘She mutters to herself as she holds her staff close, she can feel its metallic coldness come off as blazingly warm as her flesh glows in amber hue’

“COMMANDER!” ‘A voice breaks through her mind’

“SHE’S FLYING AWAY GET THE HOVERBOARDS!” ‘Another voice, the Shieldbearer’s echoes out distantly’

‘Like droplets in a pond’

“They are all… rising!” ‘The sound of Roy echoes bluntly behind the rest’

‘She opens her eyes, she gazes forward to meet the fluorescent cave lights at eye level’

‘She had never levitated so high before’

“I- haa…” ‘Her breathing grows shaky as her staff’s powerful and calm light turns to flickering, she’s starting to lose balance’

‘She falls to the side and begins to hurdle downwards’

“Ack!! Comin’ down!” ‘The companion knight shouts, jumping out towards the falling Feline’

‘A tough landing, yes, but not for the Feline’

“Huh- Surprisingly light, commander!” ‘The Forte man calls out in a cheery tone, holding onto the roughed up Feline’

“Hah… I feel… Bloody awful” ‘Mandra coughs up each word painstakingly’

“Well, atleast ya didn’t get a concussion!” ‘The Shieldbearer says, the caster getting a glimpse under his mask, a wide, innocent smile’

“Urk– What of the grotesques? How many did I raise?” ‘Mandragora asks, her tone weakened’

“It was hard to count, commander… but about twenty eight” ‘The meek Dublinn float guard called’

“Twenty eight, yes, didn’t know you were also counting, scientist” ‘Joel calls out to the visored Taran’

“Hah… you are bloody leading me on, come on, give me the true amount…” ‘Mandragora chuckles, her face paler than ever before’

“Doesn't seem like a joke.” ‘Mido calls, observing the vastly enhanced gaggle of grotesques’

“Ha… Even the stoic looney is… Agreeing…” ‘As the sound of the Shieldbearers heavy breathing subside, it begins to echo infinitely before morphing into a completely alien sound’

“No…”

‘The sound of home, the fireplace cracking after dad stoaked it for the night, how I used to watch those embers burn, the flame always seemed so gentle’

‘I always used to sit by the fireplace when nights got cold, mom always was with me, whenever I’d try to get closer… she’d reach in and stop me’

‘It was a cold night, a really cold one… Mama and Papa were going to see grandma, she was sick… but I wasn’t allowed to go no matter how hard I clung onto mom’s skirt’

‘Papa stoked the fire before he left… I returned to gazing the flame’

‘Mama wasn’t watching… She didn't hold me back when I reached out’

‘A small piece of wood white with ash and burning… My hand was warm so incredibly warm…’

‘What a bloody fool I was grabbing onto burning wood, oh what bloody lass I was, running around with a red hot hand trying to find a way to make it cold again, I even rushed outside and dunk my hand into the snow…’

‘I miss those days… I miss…’

“Home…”

‘The Feline awakens in the grass outside the cavern, surrounded by Dublinn, her elites standing closest to her’

“She’s alright, lads!” ‘The Shieldbearer waves over to a distant group, a unified yell of joy responding back’

“Ack… my head…” ‘Mandragora groans, still on her back’

“Aye’ don't die over no migraine, lass! Throughout all me time I haven’t seen someone do something so incredibly demented! Well… maybe a couple times” ‘Captain Hogan says, smirking above the small caster’

“How bloody long was I out?” ‘Mandragora asks, still dazed’

“Well lass, this ain’t the same day we went digging” ‘The Crossbow captain says tossing her a small bag’

“Hell’s this?” ‘Mandragora asks, sitting up in confusion’

“Tobacco, head shadowcaster says that chewing on this will get any Arts user back in action!” ‘The sniper captain cackles as he waves to his men’

“We’ll depart, now that you’re safe.” ‘The old man waves at the confused Feine before disappearing into the woods, soon followed by the rest of the snipers’

“Commander Mandragora. We led all thirty six gargoyles to surface, buried the dead-” ‘The Shadowblade’s report gets cut short by the small Taran’

“Leave that bloody talk once my world stops ringing if you please” ‘The Feline annoyedly waves at the round masked Dublinn Elite’

“Oh- apologies- Commander.” ‘The Shadowblade nods and bows, only a depressive grunt returned from Mandragora’

“So, do we have enough gargoyles to fly back? I’d rather do that than walk this forested area back to Hillock… Bloody blast it, I’d bring the earth up to get a bridge back” ‘The caster stumbles up to see the carnage wrecked mining camp’

‘Tossed over comms towers, blew open bunkers, crushed remains of power armors with a clear shot through their torso’

“Ah’ worry not, we have just about enough, even with some being packed full of goodies” ‘The Shieldbearer shouts, leading a pale grotesque on a leash, or perhaps painstakingly dragging it would be the right word’

“Ghk- stop bloody dragging it you bloody sod!” ‘Mandragora shouts, picking her staff up and pointing it at the grotesque’

‘The lofty rock beast stands guard, easily snapping the leash’

“All my efforts…” ‘The Forte companion guard says, defeated’

“By Tara, how long was I out for if that lunatic has been doing that with each one of those…” ‘Mandra mutters under her breath, catching the Evocator’s attention’

“He carried the first dozen, pushed the second, and dragged the third.” ‘Joel replies quick wittedly’

“More muscle than there are brains… good for a soldier, bloody perfect.” ‘The Feline walks up to the pale grotesque, waving her hands around’

‘The bedrock beast spreads its wings effortlessly, rock almost flown like water, rock almost completely subservient to her whim’

“Dublinn! Hop on the brood!” ‘Mandra commands with a lighthearted smile, mounting her magnum opus, joined by the Evocator’

‘Soaring skies, fresh air, a bird’s eye view, the only time Mandra was able to set flight with a grotesque, pale specters with dark masks riding upon them’

“Do you think the Victorian army might be alerted by this?” ‘Mandra asks the Evocator’

“Why are you asking me that, Mandragora?” ‘The Evocator asks, holding onto the rocky beast’

“Just interested in your input, why should it bloody matter?” ‘The Feline replies with her signature anger’

“I doubt it, Victoria would want its shares for that Originium… or at least the other dukes.” ‘The Evocator speaks, gazing back at the Chasm’

“... Commander, please… do not overexert yourself like that, we were worried.” ‘Joel says, his tone weavering’

“Bah, big talk for someone casting house sized fireballs” ‘Mandragora responds, happily looking around to the fellow grotesque riding Dublinn’

“... Mandragora, where would you be if The Leader never helped you?” ‘The Evocator asks after a brief pause, his gaze prowling the forest below’

“... Sure as shit not riding a gargoyle, moreso… being buried six-feet under” ‘The Taran replies nostalgically’

“... Do you really believe in The Leader?” ‘The Evocator asks, his tone fearful but his will unbound’

‘Mandragora pauses for a short time’

“... I don’t have much more to believe in… She’s Tara, she’s our ruler… of course I believe in our home…” ‘Mandragora replies in an uncharacteristically serious tone’

‘The silence follows the two back to the camp overlooking Hillock County’

Refraction

‘Night envelops the camp, clear sight between the treeline as the small clearing of Dublinn gathers around the booming flame arisen by their recent reinforcement of evocators’

‘The Leader’s forces had become more plentiful around Hillock, its woodline quite hard to pass through without running into at least one scout force of the spectre force’

‘The campfire cracks the kindling setting below it, orange embers  filling the night sky as Mandra’s group stares into the starry sky’

“Ever wondered what’s beyond?” ‘Roy asked the silent group, staring into the dim stars’

‘One of the group’s fellow hover guards nod, joining the man in stargazing’

“Aye’ me town always told of good people returning as stars… when I look up there… I’d like to think it’s me comrades looking back” ‘The man cleans his visor, sitting next to his floatation device’

“Ha, I remember when I was still a town dweller, something similar… but I also heard some tales of them coming back for a moment or so… Tell loved ones that they’re gonna be fine, or make justice…” ‘The Originium researcher continues the banter’

“Deus ex machina…” ‘The Shadowblade mutters, his round mask glowing a faint purple hue’

“Oi, Mido.” ‘The commander calls over to the Shadowblade’

“Yes, commander?” ‘The Shadowblade leader sits up straight, his tone switching to an official one like clockwork’

“... Back in Toron County… Cillian- The Spy taught me to look out for the hum of Refraction masks… He was right, there’s a certain sound to them…” ‘Mandragora begins to monologue, her tone unusually cold and down to earth’

“There’s a hum to all Dublinn masks… shadowblade masks are made differently. Their hum is masked, so is their form while wearing it.” ‘Mido replies coldly, his mask still on him clear as day’

“Yet, you’re wearing that mask… Without obscuring your form, what’s up with that?” ‘Mandragora presses the question, causing the Shadowblade to fidget with his fingers’

“I… er… It- its uhm-” ‘Mido begins to stumble his words’

‘Mandragora glares at the tall Shadowblade, her dominating gaze causing the Dublinn elite to lower his head’

“It is from me that the Refraction of the shadowblades were derived from, I- err… Was studied…” ‘Mido begrudgingly blurted out’

‘The camp drawn silent for a moment before the small Feline arose in tone’

“Like I’ll bloody believe you! REALLY? Not even I’m that dumb to believe that The Leader assigned the very first Shadowblade of Dublinn, not to mention the man they based the shadowblade Refraction masks off of!” ‘Mandragora screams at the increasingly embarrassed Shadowblade, her group’s elites present for The Chasm looking over at each other’

“Did she… not remember?” ‘One of the companion guards asks the group’

“She may have hit her head while falling…” ‘A fellow Dublinn elite responds scratching his shoulder’

“I caught her just fine! I made sure she was safe!” ‘The companion knight responds, self conscious of his ability to protect’

“What are all of you on about?! Why’s this so-” ‘Mandragora blurts out to the whispering elite force’

“Commander Mandragora, do you recall The Chasm, whilst we were discussing…” ‘Mido sheepishly asked the fiery commander’

“No? I was busy setting up my brood to arise.” ‘Mandra crosses her arms, curiously looking at the whole campfire gathered group’

“She really didn't hear the commotion…” ‘One of the evocators whispers out’

‘The companion guard exhales, shaking his head he arises’

“Commander Mandragora, please… I’ll- uhh, I’ll explain it all, Mido had a hard time already with me-” ‘The Shieldbearer pushes the Shadowblade aside’

“Please- you needn’t-” ‘Mido tries to push back, but the movements of his companion tell otherwise’

“It’s alright… you dragged me out of the shitter plenty, go take a breather…” ‘The Shieldguard pats the Shadowblade on the shoulder, he cannot see, but his smile is evident’

“What the bloody hell is on with both of you?! Just get to the point!” ‘Mandragora snaps the two out of their staring match’

“... Right away.” ‘Mido stands up, disappearing into the camp outskirts, the Shieldbearer begins to convey their history to Mandragora’

‘The woods have grown misty, the sky has grown clouded, the silent steps only paired with the distant chatter of the Shieldbearer terribly explaining their history’

‘The Shadowblade notices an odd sight, a lone Evocator sitting on a small hill, his gaze fixed towards the woods’

“... Is it you, Joel?” ‘Mido asks, his tone calm, failing to strike even the slightest physical reaction of the lone Evocator’

“Yes… it is I, has the campfire flame gone cold? Surely our newest additions have the power to relight it.” ‘The spiral masked Evocator continues to gaze towards the foggy woods’

“... No, the flame is fine.” ‘The Shadowblade replies bluntly, joining along the caster to gaze out to the treeline’

“Then why come join me?” ‘Joel’s voice begins to crack’

“When companion pairs lose their other… they seek to distance themselves from their group, they deem themselves unfit to gain a new victim.” ‘Mido’s soft tone enrages the Evocator’

“And what bloody right do you associate me with one of your kind?” ‘The caster responds, gritting his teeth’

“You lament like one of ours, no… Exactly how we lament.” ‘Mido sits right next to the spiral masked caster’

“... I saw what you’ve done to those going against Dublinn’s wishes. I do not seek betrayal if that is what you seek to extract.” ‘The Evocator’s voice begins to shake as the round masked assassin stares at him’

“I never cared about Dublinn.” ‘Mido calmly exclaims, adjusting his mask’

“Ha… good joke, good bloody joke.” ‘The Evocator leans back, slightly cackling’

“I care about us. Taran… The same reason why you follow Commander Mandragora, do you not?” ‘Mido asks, staring down the Evocator’

‘The spiral masked caster gulps, and nods’

“Yes… what- what’s your goal?” ‘The Evocator asks, even more alerted by the empty stare of the Shadowblade’

“I’d like to pay my respects, to you, to your other wing.” ‘The Shadowblade hesitantly puts a hand on the Evocator’s shoulder’

“...” ‘The Evocator begins to shake’

“Do you wish to hold onto? Even in ancient Minos, the companion knights were always those of close friends, such is why the Minoan armies were so hard to beat… they’d never surrender.” ‘The Shadowblade calmly hugs the Evocator’

“... Never surrender…” ‘The Spiral masked caster mutters, tears begin to flow beneath his mask, he embraces the Shadowblade as he begins to loudly sob’

“There there… You’re a strong warrior… You’re a strong Taran.” ‘The Shadowblade’s voice thaws, patting the back of the caster’

‘The two continue to gaze into woodline, the silence of the camp broken by the shouting of the Feline commander’

“YOU’RE A MINO- WHAT NOW?!” ‘The caster commander yells out in dismay’

“The Minotaur was my moniker, yeah… Because my family were spice salesmen from Minos! Made an honest living here in Tara, this is where I grew up with Mido!” ‘The Shieldbearer responded in matching volume’

“Wha?! Minos Mido Min… what the hell are you blabbering about?!” ‘Mandragora yells back in confusion’

“Agh-” ‘The Shieldbearer mutters to himself before lifting his helmet off’

“Oh- you’re one of them uhh… Sarkaz, right?” ‘Mandragora blurts out after a moment of hesitance’

“... No…” ‘The Forte shieldbearer bashfully hides his face, only revealing the two, filed down but still growing horns’

“Uh huh… honestly- I- I’m bloody confused right now” ‘Mandra exclaims, her tone full of uncertainty’

“All that matters is that I was born in Tara, right?” ‘The Shieldbearer shrugs before reattaching his helmet’

“I bloody guess… Not like The Leader has much vitriol, willing to accept the decrepit Victorians seeking an escape from her infinite power, by my stance you’re just as Taran as me!” ‘Mandragora grows a smile on her face, striking the shoulder of the shieldbearer with a pebble’

‘The trees grow thicker with mist, hours prior it was clear as a night can get’

“... Ha, that lass is still as fired up as the day I joined her campgrounds” ‘The evocator mutters, pulling his spiral mask aside to brush away his tears’

“She is far from my previous Commander, far less rigid and relies on her comrades a lot more.” ‘Mido nods along with the caster’

“... A good commander…”

“A good leader.”

Arts savant

‘Smoke gathers around, forming a thick layer of mist on the floor of the forest’

“Hm, that thick haze reminds me of The Toxicologist.” ‘The Evocator says, lighting a small flame on his pointer finger to illuminate the dark sky around them’

“... You should return to the camp.” ‘Mido stares intensely to the woods’

“Why- what’s the sudden tone shift?” ‘Joel pokes the sentinel Shadowblade’

‘The round masked Shadowblade arises, his blade drawn’

“Leave, now.” ‘Mido calls out, but it's too late’

‘Red eyes pierce through the woods as the mist arises like smoke, forming a gray sea consuming the flames’

“Eugh… quelle corvée” ‘A decrepit voice calls out to the two as the red eyes illuminate the woods everso closer, on inspection revealing them to be connected to a white, avant garde mask’

‘Whispers echo in the smoke as they eat away at the Evocator’s flame’

“Hurk- What the hell is that!?” ‘The Evocator calls out, his light grown over his palm, even more vehemently resisted by the smoke’

“I am the darkness that consumes, the force that eats away at those who-” ‘The red eyes grow closer, a pale decrepit finger piercing the wall of fog as it goes to meet the still head of Mido’

‘Tap’

‘An earthen pillar blocks their path’

“And just who the bloody hell do you think you are?” ‘Mandragora points her staff at the wall of smoke, the empty face of one of her grotesques looming over her’

“Commander Mandragora- please do not- It is my …” ‘Mido’s words drown as the wall of smoke speaks up in a decrepit tone’

“I’m his tutor, I came to check up on my tool to see whether it failed again or not.” ‘The voice booms, tapping the earthen barrier before collapsing it in the shadow’

“Oh and what bloody right do you think you have? This is my camp, he’s no bandit anymore” ‘Mandragora grits her teeth, restraining herself from sending a rock through the wall of smoke’

“You- You revealed our secret to her.” ‘The wall of smoke pulls back to reveal the fullness of the white mask, the red eyes stop glowing to reveal blackened holes where they were’

‘The pale hands grab onto the collar of Mido, gilded bracelets and rings engorged upon the boney fingers and dishevelled arm’

“No- I- I mean yes, master Daedalus.” ‘The Shadowblade quickly spoke as The Evocator stood next to him, frozen in terror’

“Hmph, well you’re one bloody talented caster, I give ya that.” ‘Mandragora calls out to the distanced caster, causing their hands to loosen, letting the Shadowblade collapse to the ground’

“And what makes that so? Would it be my wall of impenetrable smoke? My specialised Refraction capable of swallowing any sorts of Arts in its whole? Or perhaps my intricate utilisation of-”

“I’ve tried piercing through you with an earthen javelin, swallowing your foot in earth, sending my grotesque at you, and all have failed.” ‘Mandragora grits her teeth in the face of the pale masked caster’

“Oh- Oh… The Leader really had not lied about you, but fret not for your powerlessness is indeed reasonable.” ‘The pale masked caster bows before Mandragora, one exhibiting narcissism rather than respect’

“For I am Lady Daedelous, born of Gaulish noble descent, follow through with the Victorian royal academy only to further press my infinite wisdom in the Arts of Leithanien” ‘Her voice only infuriates the Dublinn commander further’

“And what does a rotten greenblood like you doing in my camp harassing MY men?” ‘She asks, a pillar once again retracted by the pale mask enveloping smoke still present around her feet’

“It was but The Leader who sent me to assist your pitiful creations in living through Arts induced damage, it is quite notable how weak they are, I alone accidentally had ruined three at my arrival with the first half competent battalion keeping them around” ‘The caster snaps her fingers as the smoke withdraws immediately’

‘Surprisingly no rocks get pelted, but a far more violent glare exhibited by Mandragora’

“Pitiful… PITIFUL?! Oh I’ll show you pitiful!!” ‘Mandragora screams as she pokes the Shadowcaster in the chest’

“Hmph, Mido dearest, is this your new commander, really?” ‘The pale mask returns its gaze to the round mask’

“Yes, master Daedalus.” ‘Mido’s words fail to weaver in blind respect towards the Shadowcaster’

‘The avant garde masked caster walks to the pale grotesque, tapping and channelling her finger through its chest and underbelly without the slightest fear of the rocky beast’

“I, the best caster Gaul has ever been graced with, will call what’s pitiful, pitiful.” ‘The tone continues to grind away at Mandragora’

“Oh please, going to some insane asylum to study the craft of old dead men who were gifted like me seems like a bloody waste of time” ‘Mandra tries to challenge the self consumed Shadowcaster’

“Oh please, even the Witch King shall beckon at my power!” ‘Daedalus says, driving her finger across the grotesque, sizing it up’

“The what king…?” ‘Mandragora’s voice sinks to uncertainty, opposite to the Evocator’s’

“Excuse me, Shadowcaster master Daedalus-” ‘The spiral masked Evocator called out with a slight hint of vitriol’

“Ah yes, finally an inutile calling me my righteous title!” ‘The Shadowcaster exclaimed, putting her fingers onto the bottom of the mask, observing the pale grotesque which began to awkwardly shuffle, not even the bedrock wishes to bare the visage’

“What in Tara do you think you are!? Have you learnt what feats the Witch King of Leithanien achieved? What did it take to not kill, but contain him?!” ‘The Evocator raises his tone, responded by a slightly demented giggle by The Shadowcaster’

“I had my smoke consume imbeciles like you for less, but sure, I shall grace you with my prestige, for the Witch King compared to me was a fearful” ‘The Shadowcaster steps back from the grotesque and focuses on the Evocator’

“Hmph, and why do you think that our world’s best caster would be so infinitely weaker than you?” ‘The sceptical Evocator presses the Shadowcaster’

“Oh please, there is one incredibly simple reason behind it.” ‘Daedalus's tone grows shaky as she takes the glove off her second hand’

‘As the glove falls off, black crystals lay below it’

‘Fully enclosing her hand’

“He feared the Infection, he feared its gift… but not me, it’s but a gift… to succumb yourself to the Arts, to become the staff” ‘The Shadowcaster begins her self indulgent monologue’

“You’re a bloody lunatic-” ‘Mandragora is too shocked to be properly angered’

‘The Evocator stands silent, mask focused on the hand’

“Ah yes, bask upon its beauty in shock, for they too called the Witch King a fool before he began ruling our pathetic catalyst we call Terra” ‘The Shadowcaster flaunts her hands, overseen by Mandragora’s men gathered around the camp’s edge’

“Master Daedalus, please… Just do what The Leader had required you of, I’m sure Hillock has plenty of fine wine-” ‘Mido tries to bargain with the Arch Shadowcaster’

“Eugh, you wouldn’t drink wine like that out of a gutter, not something like Gaulish winefields or the Leithanien foothills, I’d compare it to… Minoan grapeyards, run down and decrepit.” ‘The Shadowcaster touches the grotesque, with the heavily infected hand, catching the attention of the Hover Guard elite’

“... Commander I really hope that is a staff that they are wearing…” ‘Roy arrives to the gathering of elites’

“Oh you’d bloody wish… I’d call this woman demented over reckless, though.” ‘Mandragora leans back, seeing the Caster try to pierce the pale grotesque’

“What a safety risk…” ‘The Originium researcher mutters with a hint of terror’

“Hah, oi’ Mido, what’s your aunt doing in our campgrounds?” ‘The Shieldbearer joins into the group’

‘The question of the bulky Forte go unnoticed as silence replaces the bickering, the hand of the Shadowcaster tapping at the bedrock’

“Agenouille-toi devant moi, bête de rock” ‘The Shadowcaster mutters before pulling her hand back’

‘The Oripathy laden hand drives into the bedrock beast’

‘CRACK’

‘The insertion gets rejected by the stone, the Shadowcaster’s hand cracks open allowing dark light to flow out’

‘The hand begins to crumble to shards, beginning to break her skin, blood splatters out as a deep red ooze begins to pour from the now shattered hand, like a fractured bone it lays there, quite casually watched by the now mutilated Shadowcaster’

“Hm. I may have underestimated your pathetic Arts, caster.” ‘Daedalous exclaimed rather casually’

“Hah, finally something to shut you up” ‘Mandragora’s grin grows slightly smug’

“I seek… Medical attention, quite urgently.” ‘The Shadowcaster, still with that aura of narcissism points to her hand, now turned into a nub’

“Hmph, why don't you use your bloody Arts to fix it up?” ‘Mandragora asks, sarcastically, taking everything she can to feel better’

“... That may indeed work.” ‘The caster mutters before once again beginning to chant, what remnant originium remaining on her hand starting to shine’

“De la poussière surgit une nouvelle forme” ‘The Caster mutters as the shattered hand begins to float and reform on her hand to the shock of the onlookers’

“Ah, it seems like I was conservative with my powers, you deserve my thanks, Geomancer. You’ve… granted me a new level of my self knowledge” ‘The Shadowcaster pats her crystallised hand, dust falling out of its crevasse’

“Tch, I only helped cause you bloody broke it over a grotesque of mine” ‘Mandragora crosses her arms, meeting the glare of the Shadowcaster with equal superiority’

“Err… I must acquit, your creations are indeed of finer quality than I expected. Without proper tools I shall falter to engrave it in the right ways for my Refraction to last” ‘The Shadowcaster stumbles over their words, clearly unfamiliar to the feeling of losing’

“Oh that’s bloody miraculous! You talk so much and yet you have to rely on this dumb little cretin because they just do it better~” ‘Mandragora walks to the grotesque, poking the Shadowcaster on the chest’

“Hmph, do not let it get to your head, take it like a prestige and… get to work.” ‘The Shadowcaster begrudgingly waves her hand away with her pale fingers’

“Fine, fine, I shall bestow my expertise for a bloody buffoon like you” ‘Mandra tries, and fails to mimic the special kind of self indulgence that the Shadowcaster possesses’

‘Mandragora snaps her fingers, causing the grotesque to lay flat on its stomach’

“Has Mido eaten his rations? Nothing out of the ordinary?” ‘Daedalus inquires, standing over the living pile of rocks’

“Huh- what?” ‘Mandragora looks at the Shadowcaster with an incredibly dumbfounded look’

“You heard what I said, I needn’t repeat myself.” ‘The caster pats herself on the shoulder’

“Err.. I think so? Those two have been the most normal blokes in this shithole” ‘Mandra can’t but reluctantly shrug her shoulders’

“Good, a better answer than I expected from an unwashed Taran.” ‘The Gaulish Shadowcaster responds, rubbing her hands together’

“Keep bringing up your lineage and I might just get convinced to shred you to bits…” ‘The Taran caster responds, her tone returning to one of annoyance’

“Eugh, only proving me right, now begin to form a little channel here.” ‘The caster points and drives a finger down the abdomen of the grotesque’

“If I do this, will it work on all of my grotesques?” ‘Mandragora asks, her staff shining with a controlled amber light, her finger leaving the indentation satisfactory of the Shadowcaster’

“Hmph, if you can manage to do it right without my presence, maybe. Though I still need to grace these creatures with my specialty Arts.” ‘The Shadowcaster pompously responds, continuing to guide Mandragora’s finger across the body of the grotesque’

“Hmph, those well studied Arts you keep blabbering about, are all Refraction masks made by you?” ‘Mandragora asks, following her orders clearly, forming ornate patterns across the grotesque’s internal body’

“Through months of my tutoring a Taran such as yourself MAY learn how to manipulate it, Mido being one of the very first to master it’

“Huh… The Shadowblade? How ironic.” ‘Mandragora chuckles a little, the masked gaze of the Shadowcaster softening her gaze in response’

“His Arts are curious, it is why I mastered such a factor of Refraction. Though over time the simpler forms had become… Un jeu d'enfant.” ‘The Shadowcaster opens up, looking over at Mido’

‘The elites of the group returning to the campfire’s side, leaving the Originium researcher looking’

“Fascinating… How do these carvings work, Arch Shadowcaster?” ‘The meek Dublinn float guard wanders up to the two, the decrepit fingers of the Shadowcaster traced by Mandragora’

“Oh, they don't ‘work’, they function. You cannot explain Arts to someone so unfamiliar with them, now the other half of it.” ‘The Shadowcaster couldn’t even be bothered to look over at the researcher’

“I studied Originium engineering at Columbia-” ‘Roy exclaims much to the disdain of the Shadowcaster’

“Oh do not get me started on that foul dissection of this magnificent gift-” ‘The Pale mask finally gazes towards Roy, stopping her finger’

“Hah, sounds like big talk for someone against mobile cities” ‘Mandragora chuckles, looking at the bewildered Shadowcaster’

“Hmph, mobile cities and such are a tool for the less gifted, or fools to play around with. I long ago forgave their incompetence.” ‘The Shadowcaster mutters with subtle vitriol, still helping Mandragora follow the patterns’

“Interesting… but also terrifying… Miss, your Oripathy… it seems… severe.” ‘The researcher points out, his voice slightly shaking’

“Yes. I’ve gone to Rhodes Island offices plenty of times during my initial injection, my infection is at a healthy 17%. Something lesser than I, and they would be suffering, me? I’m thriving.” ‘Daedalus exclaims with great pride, an unamused look received my Mandra, and a horrified stare by Roy’

“And here you are breaking your back over an uninfected Taran’s Arts” ‘Mandragora exclaims with a slight smirk’

“... You’re not infected? … Curious.” ‘The Shadowblade pauses for a brief moment, staring at Mandragora’

“Peine perdue” ‘She mutters, returning to guiding Mandra’s finger’

‘The grotesque, now painted in the intricate engravings lays low’

“Now… for Arts manifest.” ‘The Shadowcaster lays her gloved hand onto the grotesque’s belly’

“... Researcher, if you value your measly stomach I may suggest you to look away.” ‘The Shadowcaster fails to lower her tone from the pompous voice’

“Probably saw all there was when your hand uhm- shattered…” ‘The researcher's voice echoes with a slight bit of hesitance’

“Hmph, so be it. If you so wish to stare upon the true Savant of Arts, the bringer of a new age.”

‘The Shadowcaster grabs her mask, she begins to lift it off, smoke begins to immediately pour out enveloping the area around her, filling all the cracks in the grotesque’

“Hm… What a weird callout, oh so called Arts master” ‘Mandragora leans onto her grotesque, watching the smoke fill in the channeling routes’

‘Mandra looks over to the hover guard, completely petrified’

“Your… Arts have-” ‘Roy chokes his words out’

“Is it so unnatural for someone so talented as I to fuse with the great gift of Terra?” ‘The face of smoke asks the horrified Taran’

“... Yes? It absolutely is? Miss?” ‘Roy responds more dumbfounded than anything’

“Hmph, close minded will always be close minded.” ‘The Shadowcaster responds arrogantly, putting the mask back on, jet black smoke filling the engravings of the grotesque’

“Your creations are most… acceptable. Have you come to remember even its most basic imprints?” ‘Daedalus compliments the Grotesque as it arises from its back’

“Pft, easily so.” ‘The Taran caster challenges the Gaulish caster’

“Hmph, impressionnante” ‘The shadowcaster adjusts her masks and walks towards the campfire’

Chapter Text

The advisor

“The Elocutionist sure has a knack for gathering nobles, wouldn’t you agree, Mandragora?” ‘A green haired Feline asks, not even bothering to look over at the geomancer’

‘The dim lights of the executive suite, decorated with ornate weapons, horns, overly melded pottery and such’

“Mandragora dearest, are you listening?” ‘The Feline once again asks, flipping her book’

“Cut that pompous tone, unless you really blabber on like that” ‘The caster replies harshly, taking seat’

“My my, I already regret meeting you in person, very well, please keep your silence.” ‘The Feline flips onto another page in her book’

“Tch, I was meant to meet The Leader, yet I'm stuck with her good for nothing advisor” ‘Mandra replies with vitriol to the unphased Feline’

“Wow, how hurtful to hear that from someone I saved the hide of oh so many times, please take a seat and make yourself comfortable, the ball is soon to occur” ‘The green haired Feline mentions, breaking her gaze from the book, meeting the gaze of the Taran’

“Oh, my hide? REALLY now? What bloody delusion are you under, ‘Har-mo-nie’ or whatever your name was” ‘Mandra sits down, speaking her vitriolic monologue’

“I’m happy you remembered my name, how considerate” ‘Harmonie replies with a smug smile only furthering Mandragora’s rage’

“Here I thought you bloody rich folk had a grain of understanding, but I guess there really is nothing going on behind those eyes…” ‘The Taran further digs into the smug Feline’

“You really are fired up for this event, Mandragora.” ‘Harmonie replies in kind, looking at Mandra’s face contort into further anger’

“How could I not? I’ve been serving The Leader for years, this mission… This is where I’ll prove myself” ‘Mandragora exclaims, her poisoned tone subsiding at her mention of The Leader’

“Prove yourself? Now now, that’s not something I’d expect to hear from someone assisting The Six’s every will and whim…” ‘Harmonie exclaims with a sly smirk’

“You- what? Huh?” ‘Mandragora chokes on her words, staring at the green haired Feline’

“When I said ‘saving your hide’, what part of it didn’t pass through your rather stalwart cranium?” ‘Harmonie asks, putting her book to the side as she focuses on Mandragora entirely’

“... I served The Leader’s goal, did I not?” ‘Mandra asks, vitriol drowned out of her tone’

“Well, partially, yes, but if her highness was to know about them leading you throughout the Victorian countryside, I’d have a hard time convincing her that it was all her orders whilst her only command for you was to hold a single outpost” ‘Harmonie explains, her tone soft as she taps the cover of the book, the muffled conversations of the nobility behind the walls further sending Mandra into a worried panic’

“Am I making sense, or should I put it in less convoluted words, Mandragora?” ‘Harmonie asks the mute Feline blankly staring at her’

“... How do you know all of this?” ‘Mandragora’s staff start to shine feint amber, immediately warranting a reaction from Harmonie’

“My task is to know all that is Dublinn, so now please put the staff down unless you want your saving grace to bless you no further” ‘Harmonie continues, her smirk only growing in face of the dangerous Taran’

“Tch, fine… but even so, if you knew that they led me on- I- why the bloody hell would you cover for a rock brained lunatic?!” ‘The staff’s shine grows dim as Mandragora’s voice relaxes ever so slightly’

“What an accurate self assessment, and for why I helped you, would pure kindness be a sufficient response for you?” ‘The green haired Feline asks, her face unbroken from that smirk’

“Kindness my arse, you noble lot don't do a thing out of the goodness of your rotten hearts!” ‘Mandragora’s poison returns as quickly as it disappeared’

“Hm, as expected” ‘Harmonie reopens the book’

“What? Not gonna defend yourself? Answer me you git!” ‘The Taran Feline points a finger at Harmonie’

‘The green haired Feline stays silent, flipping through her book’s pages’

“... What the complete shit is wrong with you?” ‘Mandragora’s tone turns passive’

‘Harmonie holds her silence, allowing Mandragora to fester in her anger’

‘The comms device attached to her uniform begins to ring’

“Oh, it seems like our plan will have to change…” ‘Harmonie reaches for her device, raising it up to her ear’

“Hm, yes it’s me, yes, she’s with me. No, she won’t do anything rash, not that I hope.” ‘Mandra listens in on the one-sided conversation’

“Oh, oh how fun… Rita of all people? Small world. Small world…” ‘Hamonie exclaims in a somber tone before turning her comms off once more’

“Mandragora, I do need to mention that it was not my sole task to save your oh-so-pretentious self image, your dear companion… The Spy too, helped and made my work infinitely harder at once.” ‘Harmonie tells Mandragora, the dim lights only further pushing the room in an ominous manner’

“Hmph, and what? I ain't that dumb to reveal more about Cillian” ‘Mandragora replies with a smirk’

“Oh, so that is his real name, thank you Mandragora dear” ‘Harmonie replies clinically’

“... Drat.” ‘Mandra replies, biting her tongue’

“...”

“... Tell me Mandragora, what do you know about the Victorian army?” ‘Harmonie breaks the embarrassing silence’

“Well, they are soldiers, mostly duke lap dogs, had a couple rough run in with them err… Temper Platoon?” ‘Mandragora’s tone grows uncertain as she shrugs her shoulders’

“Tempest Platoon, yes, well… We seem to have an infestation of them, turns out even amidst the Londinium overtake, my dearest Rita has time to spare to meet my passion project” ‘Harmonie slumps down in her seat, prodding her head up with her arm resting comfortably on the armrest’

“Hm, sounds like you know her personally, what’re ya? Some bloody Victorian spy?” ‘Mandra asks accusatively’

“Would a Victorian spy save one of the most anti-Victroian commanders Dublinn has in stock?” ‘Harmonie questions the temperamental Feline’

“... Good point.” ‘Mandragora hesitantly answers’

“The way I know Rita is through my time at the Victorian Academy, though… we did indeed work in different fields, I certainly doubt she’d remember me…” ‘The green Haired Feline hesitantly speaks, tapping her book’s leather cover’

“Hmph, what are you? President of her bloody fanclub!?” ‘Mandragora raises her tone, sliding up in her chair’

“... Rita Skamandros, codename Horn, leader of the second Tempest Platoon, one of the most talented fighters Victoria has to offer, a beacon behind which soldiers unite, to death and what’s beyond…” ‘Harmonie hums in nostalgia, much to the uninterested gaze of Mandra’

“So, what’s stopping me from turning her into fine paste? Perhaps swallow her amidst the ruins of Hillock, bind her and take her so The Leader could burn her away personally…” ‘Mandragora begins proposing ideas to the unbothered Harmonie’

“Hmph, I needn’t tell you that she would be… Quite difficult to handle, though if you do manage, I’d advise you to keep her at hand… Preferably alive” ‘Harmonie’s voice grows soft as her eyes look into Mandragora’s’

“And why the bloody hell should I? So you can set her free to have more bloody dreams about her crushing Taran skulls!?” ‘The Taran arises from her seat’

“She’s valuable to Victoria, a perfect toy soldier… And quite the valuable chess piece, it’d be more beneficial to hold her hostage, wouldn’t you agree?” ‘Harmonie asks, her words pressing into Mandragora’

“... I’m not exactly known to keep prisoners” ‘Mandragora replies coldly to the proposition of Harmonie’

“It’s best to learn a new trick while you can, and if you do so… I’ll make sure you’re going to partake in Londinium’s siege, walking next to The Leader-”

“I’ll do it, I’ll take her hostage, I’ll do it.” ‘Mandragora’s words cut into Harmonie’s proposal, only growing the green haired Feline’s smirk’

“Good, though… for now we have an issue at hand… that’s more going to harm The Elocutionist than us.” ‘Harmonie exclaims calmly’

“Hah, on the way here I already saw proud sons of Tara hung up on the gallows, I might as well help in with claiming a couple heads” ‘Mandra exclaims with hostility slathered through her tone’

“... The Leader will make an appearance soon. It’s better to let things take their course… I’m sure a couple nobles dying wouldn’t make you lose sleep, Mandragora.” ‘Harmonie calmly closes her book and stands up’

‘The two leave the suite, walking through the assembling banquet’

“Hmph, I’m just more surprised that a lunatic like you could keep good care of one of my more… delicate works.” ‘The pale masked lady sits next to The Toxicologist’

“Aye, honestly I still wonder myself how it didn’t rot off, but then I remember the super awesome craftswoman who created it” ‘The Toxicologist says taking a sip of his wine’

“Save your breath, I merely weave what you defile.” ‘The Shadowcaster replies, eyeing the wine in The Toxicologist’s hand’

“Ah, good meeting you two, a real pleasure” ‘Harmonie approaches the two sitting at the side of the meeting, Mandragora continuing to the door of the hall’

“Hmph, and what do you seek?” ‘The pale masked caster asks’

“La nuit verra des visiteurs indésirables” ‘Harmonie replies with a smile’

“Bien, je pensais que la nuit serait ennuyeuse” ‘The Shadowcaster replies, waving the green haired Feline away’

“... Gaulish is such an intoxicating language” ‘The Toxicologist mentions as Harmonie departs’

“Save your breath, defiler. The night will see guests we didn’t invite.” ‘The pale mask responds coldly to the poisoner’s terrible advance’

Mousetrap

‘Cold air billows through County Hillock, the distant mountainscape looming above the ruin surrounded city’

‘A lone caster wanders through the dark city streets, the dim street lights failing to illuminate her steps’

‘A row of gallows, haphazardly made structures out of driftwood’

‘By the neck they hang, to the ground they stare’

‘Brave sons of Tara’

‘Mandragora opens her palm, her staff shines amber as the structures sink into the ground’

“Dogs… bloody dogs… rabid animals” ‘Mandragora mutters with hatred, spotting a figure’

“Oi oi! No loitering after curfew!” ‘A Victorian man wearing a guard’s uniform shouts out from the other side of the street, stumbling over to Mandragora’

‘An evil grin emerges across Mandra’s face’

“Oh, but sir… these gallows just toppled over so I was only trying to bury the bodies… used to be a gravedigger and whatnot” ‘Mandragora’s tone grows sickeningly sweet, gritting her teeth as she observes the guard‘

“Aye, fair ‘nuff, hm, It does indeed seem like they toppled… Nay! They have been sabotaged!” ‘The Victorian guardsman points to the bodies still strung up, now laying on the ground, trying to step closer only for him to halt’

‘His boots were already implanted within ground’

“Ack- What is this?!  The earth!” ‘He calls out to Mandragora who’s wide smile pierces the darkness’

“Hmph, I rarely hold back, not all you bleedin’ Victorians are helpless” ‘Mandragora leans down to the sinking man trying to wiggle his way out’

“You! Your pale face- Are you one of them Dublinn? Haha! Came to wallow over your thieving friends eh?” ‘The guard smugly remarks, earth surround his waist’

“So blind to your own demise?” ‘Mandragora looms above the Victorian, her tone full of vitriol’ “You’re a special kind of dog, I give you that… How about some special bloody treatment?” ‘Mandragora raises her staff as earth begins to seep up to the mans chin’

‘The guard tries to speak before the soil gathers around his teeth, he tries to spit it out but it lingers, Mandragora continues to smile in a deranged fashion’

‘The earth flows down his throat, he chokes, he tries to cough, he gargles out in mercy as his eyes widen’

‘His best efforts to wriggle away fail as he thrashes his upper body around trying to scream, only the muffled sound of death escape’

“Hillock will burn, be lucky your gore was kept to yourself.” ‘Mandragora lowers her arm as the ground sinks, ending the guard’s suffering as him, along with the Taran submerge into the ground to be put to rest’

“Hillock sure likes to keep their ground deep… With how many trees litter the outskirts” ‘Mandragora gazes at the reformed earth, she reaches for her radio’

‘The radio beeps a couple times, then clicks in her small hand’

“Commander. It is the Shadowblade division leader-” ‘Mido’s voice welcomes Mandragora’

“No need to be so bloody formal, look, I went to the banquet-whatever, we are preparing visitors, where are we located?” ‘Mandra talks into the device whilst continuing her walk down the dark street, a car going by her’

“We have overtaken and executed the staff manning the communications tower. Your gargoyles are present. We have left no prisoners. Do you wish for us to enter Hillock city?” ‘Mido exclaims clinically, the sound of her team chattering behind the static fog’

“Good… be safe out there, and no need to get here yet, just make sure no one bloody dies, we have gone through enough already…” ‘Mandra hesitantly exclaims before clicking the radio, not allowing The Shadowblade to answer’

‘The caster continues to walk through the streets towards a highrise, a Laterano church proving quite trivial for someone like her to climb, also providing a nice vision to the banquet hall’

‘As she moseys up the outer walls of the church, stone bricks flying out to meet her shoes, the bell tower’s silence breaks with a quiet rustle’

‘Reaching up to eye level, it's a familiar form, now donning his mask, the blackened visor of The Immolator’

“Bloody odd sight, innit?” ‘Mandra calls out behind the distracted pyromaniac, slight annoyance in her tone’

“Ah- what the?! You-” ‘The Immolator looks up in a daze, around him a sleeping bag, a button and several bottles of booze’

“Oh thank Tara it’s you, lassie!” ‘The pyromaniac greets Mandragora, wheezing after sitting up’

“Tch, and here I thought you wouldn't even come out of whatever workshop you dug yourself into” ‘Mandra gazes towards the banquet hall’

“Well, I wouldn’t’ve if The Elocutionist didn't send me out here… Though my men have made quick work of one particular car workshop, I can't wait to see what I’ll be able to cook up…” ‘The masked pyromaniac mumbles on as Mandragora joins in overseeing the bright building’

“Hm, and what did he bloody want from you?” ‘Mandra looks to the blackened mask wearing explosive expert’

“Yesterday we had a tip that this meeting would be graced by the colonel, so… a little explosive in the windowsill to erupt into black smoke at the perfect moment… and pandemonium as The Leader herself arrives as well… Dublinn swarms through the alleys already” ‘The Immolator causally explains, looking out to the cityscape’

“So all those nobles we gathered were bloody bait…” ‘Mandragora mutters’

“Well, when you’re trying to catch a Zalak, do you not lay out some cheese?” ‘The Immolator questions Mandragora as lights begin to gather around the building’

“Hmph, and if we didn't get tipped off? Wouldn’t I be in the midst of it all?” ‘Mandragora asks, seeing the Victorians close in on the ball room’s grand door’

“Ye ain’t cut outta sugar, girlie! I’m sure you’d have done a fine job helping us-” ‘The Immolator gets his sentence cut’

“Quit yapping. I know the truth… You bloody freaks used me, not a bleeding thing I did for you six was directed by The Leader” ‘Mandragora spews her vitriol, her staff beginning to shine violent amber’

“And who told ya that?” ‘The Immolator asks as the Victorians breach the door’

“A specific advisor.” ‘Mandragora replies sharply’

“You gotta stop believing everything you hear, girlie… You’re a lunatic, I’m a lunatic, we all are lunatics” ‘The Immolator questions Mandragora, reaching for the button’

“Lassie, ever seen fireworks?” ‘The pyromancer asks, as a brick arises from Mandra’s arts’

“Not the kind that children watch at parades.” ‘Mandragora responds, barely managing to withhold her anger’

“Well, this one will be a parade alright… Let the overtake begin!” ‘The Immolator bashes the button’

‘A blinding flash followed by black smoke arising as Victorian and nobles alike pour out of the now partially destroyed banquet hall’

“Hah, a bloody great sight…” ‘Mandragora mentions with a sly smirk’

‘Dublinn soldiers begin pouring out of the street as the fleeing Victorians barely escape the commotion’

“The night of spectres, something bookworthy, is it not, Mandragora?” ‘The Immolator questions the geomancer, his ask going unanswered’

“You still owe me an answer.” ‘Mandra’s staff hums as the piece of the church pokes the head of The Criminal’

“... Look girlie, we all need to use each other to get the job done, you getting sent to help us genuinely-”

‘The brick flies towards The Immolator at full force sending him onto the ground, groaning in pain’

“No one bloody uses me. I fight for bloody Dublinn, I fight for home! Not some lunatic shitheads!” ‘Mandragora screams, angrily looking down at the pyromancer’

‘She begins to walk away, the wall of the bell tower aggressively spiking outward to catch Mandra’s steps, she looks back’

“Next time one of you calls me to do any of your biddings, and I will make you wish you were buried alive.” ‘Mandragora sternly exclaims, her tone unnaturally cold; she begins to walk down the tower’

‘Ksssh’

“Mandragora? Dear, do you copy?” ‘Harmonie rings the Feline’

“Loud and clear…” ‘Mandra replies, rolling her eyes as taking a deep exhale’

“The Leader is arriving, we have already begun fighting… Our tempest friends are providing a headache but don’t worry about them just yet” ‘Harmonie exclaims, the sound of marching echo behind her along with many Taran choice words towards their oppressors’

“I saw, already on my bloody way...” ‘Mandragora exclaims, frustrated’

“Good good, turns out you can be reasoned with, I’m truly glad” ‘Harmonie’s smug voice is evident’

“Cut your noble shite.” ‘Mandragora doesn't fail to keep her anger up in the face of Harmonie, setting foot below the church’

“To be the one who sets the sun…” ‘Mandragora mutters to herself, hearing the distant marching’

“Cillian… If only you were here to see this… Maybe once we take Londinium over we could…” ‘Mandragora continues down the street, her tail grows unruly, her staff glowing bright ambler’

‘Eager to meet the violet light of The Leader’

‘The Leader’

‘The streets cry as masked men march forth, Victorian stone turned Dublinn as their name echoes through the endless line’

‘Spectres of the night ready to claim the day, ready to set the sun’

‘I am Dublinn, she mutters to herself.’

‘The Leader marches in front of the sea of Taran, her horns aimed to the sky as bright orange blaze envelops the night sky’

“Ah, Mandragora, just in time” ‘Harmonie greets the unimpressed Feline entering from an alley’

“Hmph, I thought The Leader was going to be present, not her-” ‘Mandragora mutters as her foot sets ground, she rubs her neck in an unamused groan’

“Shhh, now now, we don't want to have that on the common soldier’s mind now, do we?” ‘Harmonie pulls Mandra close to her as they walk down the Dublinn filled street’

‘The refraction hums grow loud among the soldiers as men and women of all grades walk, companion knights beside Taran peasant, they unite under one banner’

‘The rally begins to grow unruly, screaming, chanting, destroying taking commonplace’

“Hmph, expected far worse from the Victorians, where’s that ‘Horn’ you blabbered on?” ‘The caster looks to her side, the peaceful gaze of Harmonie only unnerving her further’

“I told you, she won't be a headache for us now, how about we focus on the task at hand?” ‘The green haired Feline proposes an idea to the angry Taran’

“Hah, task at hand being? Follow The Leader’s bloody puppet around until Hillock hands us the keys?” ‘Mandragora asks with an annoyed grimace’

“Shh! Silence at once!” ‘Harmonie breaks her calm tone as she yanks on Mandragora’

‘The Taran mob marches through the streets of Hillock, crossbowmen led by Hogan patrol the rooftops while the shadowcasters await the main force in the city square’

‘The Leader approaches The Arch Shadowcaster as the Dublinn foot soldiers surround the streets’

“I don’t see any of the Mistwatch around…” ‘Mandragora exclaims’

“Likely hiding in the agricultural plates still, wouldn’t be a good sight to fill the streets with gas whilst we wander them, right?” ‘The Gaulish advisor asks the Feline, her gaze glued to ‘The Leader’’

“Eh, bloody good point… Hope to the dragons I won't have to see none of those putrid bastards…” ‘Mandragora exclaims, her tone distracted, she stares at The Leader’

‘Two Dublinn companion guards bring a sole Taran to ‘The Leader’, Their shields block the treasonous Feline’s face from the crowd as she gets thrown to the ground, meeting the visored gaze of Her Highness’

“Hm, seems like we have the reason why that nice meeting was met by uninvited guests…” ‘Harmonie remarks as ‘The Leader’ hesitantly points her spear at the now standing Taran’

“Hm, one of the nobles? Sure as shit doesn't look the type” ‘Mandra crosses her arms’

“No, no, one of The Elocutionist’s entrusted I believe, was to go out to gather our supporters”

“Hmph, why has she not killed this spy then?” ‘Mandragora stares at the stalemate’

“Haa… Little Loughshinny doesn't seem to have it in her-” ‘Harmonie’s words are cut short as Mandragora marches out of the sidelines’

“Where are you-?!” ‘Harmonie calls out to Mandragora, already halfway to her destination’

‘The false leader’s presence still brings a regal aura to it, the air heats as Mandragora steps closer, silent crowd observes’

‘She puts a hand on Laughsninny’s shoulder’

“Is everything well, Leader? Your Highness has yet to execute this… Rat who stabbed Dublinn in its leg” ‘Mandragora exclaims to the shaking Draco, her breath is unsteady as she mutters’

“I am Dublinn, I can… I must…” ‘She mumbles to herself as she points her spear further at the Taran betrayer, her flame flares but her hands cannot move’

“Go on already- ‘Ahem’, your highness, bring her to justice, grant her the death penalty already.” ‘Mandragora eggs on the uncertain Draco’

“The death penalty… yes…” ‘She begrudgingly nods, yet fails to act’

“Ha… I’ll die… but at least I’ll die without regret” ‘The Taran betrayer exclaims in a worried grin, her hands are shaking as the two Dublinn soldiers stand over her’

“Shut your gob, already caused enough headaches, be glad it’s not me splaying your gore in front of Dublinn…” ‘Mandragora mumbles angrily while staring at the betrayer’

‘Loughshinny seems to be in a trance, only broken by Mandragora’s hand hitting her back’

“Will it hurt… being burned by the flame of Dublinn?” ‘The Taran asks The Leader, her voice shaking slightly’

“... This is getting bloody nowhere, I’ll make it quick, kin, don’t bloody mistake it for mercy.” ‘Mandragora groans silently, tapping her staff rhythmically’

‘A single pebble flies up from the ground piercing the Taran’s chest, a blood red rock rips through the Taran as the two Dublinn guards hold up the body’

“There, dead, burn her body.” ‘Mandragora commands Loughshinny’

‘’The Leader’ gulps before focusing, her flames manage to ignite as the deceased body begins to smoke, then illuminate the night street in blinding orange light’

“Bloody useless…” ‘Mandragora mutters angrily under her breath, watching the remains be erased into fine dust’

‘The Taran Feline grabs onto Loughshinny’ “Ready to go? Your Highness?” ‘Mandragora asks, her tone laid with subtle mockery’

“Yes… yes I am…” ‘’The Leader’ begins walking after Mandragora, Dublinn forces parting in front of them’

“Well well, seems like I was right to help you” ‘Harmonie joins the two’

“... Harmonie… Please take them to my sister… I wish to go alone” ‘Loughshinny commands Harmonie weakly’

‘The green haired Feline nods, lingering behind the two’

“You’re also included… Mandragora.” ‘Loughshinny tries to command the caster, her frain voice failing to derail the Feline’

“You’ve grown soft through the years, haven’t you?” ‘Mandragora glares at the Draco’

“... I don’t- I don’t wish to kill our own…” ‘Loughshinny’s voice grows quiet’

“Our own kin? Are you bloody delusional? She stabbed us in the back! She betrayed Dublinn!” ‘Mandragora presses ‘The Leader’’

“... Her eyes didn't have the same glow as those who’d…” ‘The Draco’s voice is uncertain’

“Ha, I never considered you to be so empathetic” ‘Mandragora smirks at the mock leader’

“How so…?” ‘Loughshinny looks to Mandragora, blue gaze met with amber eyes’

“Tch, don’t remember how I first met you? Stood over a dead baron with his soldiers laid limp all around?” ‘The Feline asks the Draco, Dublinn soldiers dispersing as six figures stare at them from afar’

“... They were evil people…” ‘Loughshinny’s voice shakes’

“So? What made that spy any different?” ‘Mandra asks further’

“... I don’t… I don’t know…” ‘’The Leader’ hesitates as her flame wavers’

Ball of self righteous blaze

‘The communications tower of County Hillock’

‘Soldiers of Mandragora’s regiment walk beside pale grotesques’

“...” ‘The Evocator strayed out to the marching city’

“Joel.” ‘A familiar voice calls behind him, his head turns, frightened’

‘The round mask of The Shadowblade greets The Evocator, not a form of terror anymore, but one of comfort’

“What’s up, Mido?” ‘Joel replies hesitantly, halting his steps’

“You’re planning something.” ‘The Shadowblade exclaims with what The Evocator feels like were daggers’

“... So what if I am?” ‘Joel bravely asks the imposing specialist’

“You have my permission as substitute leader of Commander Mandragora’s squadron.” ‘Mido pats the back of The Evocator, his voice relaying slightly’

“... Mido, you’re… not too unfamiliar with shedding the blood of our own, are you?” ‘Joel boldly asks causing The Shadowblade to sit down beside him’

“... I’ve slain plenty, yes. Deserters, betrayers, a wrong strike in the heat of battle… Why do you ask?” ‘Mido asks the flame manipulator, his tone grown weary’

“So, would you be opposed if I went out and…” ‘Joel asks to the distress of Mido’

“You wouldn’t kill Mandragora. Who are your targets?” ‘The Shadowblade asks The Evocator in an almost clinical fashion’

“Hah, snip the only honest commander? Good bloody joke… No… I want to take those bastards out… The Immolator specially, they are sending us into a bleeding meat grinder” ‘Joel honestly explains to Mido’

“Everyone in this faction does, apart from commander Mandragora.” ‘Mido immediately replies, before growing silent once more’

“... Is it fine if I make a confession to you, then?” ‘The Shadowblade asks, hesitant in tone as the grounds have cleared’

“Ha, I’m no priest… but I suppose I got the robes of one, plus we won't meet again… sure.” ‘The Evocator loosens his stance to the comfort of The Shadowblade’

‘Mido gulps, his voice begins to shake, immediately unnerving Joel’

“... Before me and my brother came to Dublinn we… Our previous regiment…” ‘Mido chokes on his words, cold tone but a distant memory’

“... No need to hide it, won't do you no good keeping it in anymore” ‘Joel pats the shoulder of Mido, pulling his mask aside’

“...” ‘Mido stays silent for a moment, the round mask clasping onto his face’

‘Joel sighs and grabs the round mask, pulling it to the side’

“Here, better to say it like this?” ‘Joel asks, his voice confident in front of the man who claimed hundreds already’

“... I killed people for touching my mask…” ‘Mido replies, confused, putting a finger onto his soft face’

“Don't dodge your confession. I won't allow it now.” ‘Joel says with a bleak smile’

“... My previous commander was strong, powerful, we were one of the bruiser forces of Dublinn, directly clashing with Victorian forces, forcing them away with direct, efficient slaughter…” ‘Mido begins to ramble, his tone laden with a sombre undertone’

“Aye’ ya sure have an easier time here with us…” ‘Joel pats the shoulder of The Shadowblade’

“... It was a cold night… in the middle of winter, we set up camp, we stood watch… and then…” ‘Mido chokes his words, his soft face unmasked, tears begin to flow’

“James got decapitated before we could even know… I tried to stand up but I was struck, before we knew it… It was me, Ollie, and the first Tempest Platoon…” ‘Mido exclaims with shaky voice, his hand clutching onto his sword’s hilt’

“Ah, so that’s his real name eh?” ‘Joel asks the disturbed Shadowblade, trying to ease his distressed mind’

“Once we were down… they just left… I crawled back to the camp and tried to recover our wounds… but those bastards stole all… everything…” ‘Mido once again chokes his words, tears flow from his face’

“The… swamps preserve…” ‘Mido chokes on his words before returning to his stoic silence’

“... You- you did not…” ‘Joel’s eyes widen in dismay, his hands clutching’

“... I hardly had a choice…” ‘Mido puts back on his mask’

“... It was to survive”

“... It was to protect…”

“... I’ll be going, if your confession is done.” ‘Joel’s words turn ice cold, putting the spiral mask back on and looking back out to Hillock’

“If you won't achieve your goals, I will tie the loose ends, as to pay respects.” ‘Mido says to the departing Joel’

‘The Evocator does not respond’

‘He marches through the ruins, digging into the city outskirts’

‘County Hillock has already fallen under Dublinn control, crossbowmen walk the rooftops while foot soldiers patrol the streets’

‘The Hillock workshop, used to be a car repair store now guarded with The Immolator’s men’

‘It was the first building that the new city of Hillock was sprouted from, it was burnt down in a Sarkaz raid and the stone base was refit for a workshop’

‘Two Dublinn soldiers stand guard beside the closed down door’

“Evocator, sir.” ‘The two greet Joel as the man coldly gazes at them with his spiral mask, declaring his high rank’

‘He opens his palm’ “I’m sorry…”

‘Flame gathers around his hand’ “I’m really sorry-”

“Sir-” ‘The Dublinn soldier stood to the right doesn't even have time as the savage flames dig through the refraction and burn his body to a crisp’

‘The left side soldier tries to charge the flame caster only for a strong enough gut punch to send him back’

“Don’t- don’t think I didn’t learn nothing in this piece of shit movement!” ‘Joel shakes his hand, clearly hurt by that action’

“... Treason…” ‘The soldier mutters as The Evocator looms over him’

‘He tries to yank the refraction mask off, tearing the band connecting it to the Taran man’s face’

“I’m really- really sorry” ‘Joel puts a hand on the Dublinn soldier, his glove ignites’

‘Do I even have the right to apologise…?’

Treachery

‘The door glows white hot before melting open at the hand of The Evocator, dimly lit with broken down cars, empty of life’

‘A row of Victorians lined up, their bodies melted down to the bone using poison’

‘Wandering around the buildings, its eerie silence filling him with dread, hands are shaking at what he had done, a sole Dublinn mask strewn on his belt’

‘He walks into the storage room of the workshop, tools, parts, and a large clear metal sheet in the dark room illuminated by his flame resting atop the evocator glove’

‘He sees himself. A tall man with a slight hunchback, grey Feline ears poking out of the red hood, spiral mask decorating his face along with robes covering his torso’

‘He grabs the mask’

“... What am I wearing this for?” ‘Joel asks himself, tearing the spiral mask off his face, his glove ignites’

‘The spiral mask smokes, then bursts into flames in Joel’s hands’

‘The inferno pierces through the glove’

“OWIE!” ‘Joel yelps out, shaking his hand’

“…Now for the entrance…” ‘Joel takes a look around, noticing the wood flooring, continuing to shake his hand’

‘Joel kneels to the ground, rubbing his hands together, he takes a deep breath and burns the floor below him in the matter of seconds’

‘From the wood, only ash remains covering the stone flooring’

‘A hole in the ground revealed in the still blazing embers’

“So I was right about it! Hillock DID indeed have maintenance tunnels… Just like every modern mobile city…” ‘Joel mutters to himself as he drops down the hole into a dark hallway’

‘Darkness with only the lightest shimmer of the workshop above’ “Should lead to the machinery directly… the newest make of Ursus mobile cities have keys to even access these…”

‘He lights his flame, clairvoyant through the tunnels he marches’

‘He gulps as the flame almost touches a long line of wiring, attached to it, a large container strapped to the ceiling’

“Ya heard that? Someone just dropped down…” ‘A voice calls out behind a corner’

“Probably one of The Immolator’s, would be a good time to ask what the hell he has planned here… I’m pretty sure that was from the workshop too…” ‘Another voice echoes in the dark tunnels, green light approaching Joel from a corner’

“Who goes there?” ‘Joel calls out, heating his gloves’

“Aha! I told ya it was one of ours, you’re one of The Immolator’s, ain’t ya? What’s with all these-” ‘The Mistwatch member calls out to Joel’

‘Joel grabs onto the Mistwatch, pushing his now approaching friend’

“Wha- what are you doing?!” ‘The man chokes out as the flames ignite’

“... The right thing for once” ‘Joel exclaims before the gloves ignite on the Mistwatch’

“What-” ‘A bolt of fire pierces the mask of the Mistwatch sending him staggering back, Joel rushes and grabs onto him, holding his burning head in front of himself and the second Mistwatch, who hastily grabs onto their poison vials’

“Burn.” ‘Joel tries to imitate Mido’s tone while sending a bolt of blazing flame into the last Mistwatch’

‘He lets go of the limp bodied Mistwatch, gazing upon the dimly lit corridor’

“Ha… Ha…” ‘His hands are shaking’

‘His breath is shallow’

‘Filled to the brim with explosives’

‘Originium bombs… The Immolator…’

“... So this was your plan, you bloody lunatic…” ‘Joel mutters gazing out on the rigged up minefield, corridors lead to corridors laden with explosives’

‘Joel gulps, taking the opposite side of the halls’

‘He rounds the corner, a Dublinn scout stands in front of him’

“Hey-” ‘Joel’s hand digs into the man’s stomach’

‘His glove sends a wuthering ball of flame into the Taran’

‘The Dublinn scout falls back in two pieces’

“... What am I doing? What am I bloody doing…” ‘Joel steps back, his vision blurring as he sees The Flamerazer’s body lay in front of him, backpack shattered in still-burning pieces’

“... What have I been doing…” ‘Joel asks himself, grabbing onto his head’

‘He walks through corridors, a couple Dublinn soldiers lay bled out on the hall’s side, Mistwatch, scouting divisions, clearly a confrontation already happened’

‘He sees a staircase leading to light’

‘Joel arises in a well decorated room, a secret staircase uncovered’

“... Mandragora…” ‘Joel hears the sound of a mask humming, yet no person in sight’

‘He gulps and turns around putting his hands together as a companion guard breaks through the door’

“You shouldn’t be here-” ‘The companion guard exclaims as Joel feels the hum far closer to him, purple particles’

‘A purple blade escapes from the invisible veil’

‘He unleashes a hurling ball of flame as the Arts blade strikes him in the shoulder’

“GREG!!” ‘The companion guard shouts out’

‘The shadowblade burns as the invisibility fades’

‘The shield wielder charges the wounded Evocator’

‘The caster tries to sidestep, only for the shield to dig into him’

‘Joel hastily puts a hand onto the brute sending the ball of flame through him while the burly man lifts him off the ground’

‘The refraction resists, Joel is thrown to the side by the Dublinn elite with relative ease, sending him backwards’

‘Joel reaches around, he can feel the mask he’s grabbing onto’

‘He rips the mask off, round in shape’

‘The companion guard walks towards the Evocator before Joel raises the mask up to his face’

‘Shadows envelop The Evocator as the companion guard strikes the wall where he lay moments prior, a large gash in the floor’

‘Joel’s hands sear, put together, he raises a large ball of flame illuminating the room in orange agony, the companion guard raises his shield in a futile resistance’

‘The guard fights the flames as it envelops his shield’

‘The shield begins to melt as his armour glows red hot’

‘The companion knight screams out as his body boils, but his will is unending’

‘He cries out in pain whilst charging The Evocator’

‘Joel tries to concentrate on the flames, but the blazing bulwark sends the man flying back into the hallway, the wall cracking as his back impacts the slightly charred hallway wall’

‘The Companion guard stands in front of the betrayer’

“Dublinn… will rise”

‘He shambles towards the man’

“Eblana will fall…”

“Like the bastard…” ‘He chokes out before falling to his knees’

“We’re fighting for different goals, pft” ‘Joel wheezes, grabbing onto his chest while hastily removing the shadowblade mask, spitting out a teeth’

“... My everything” ‘Joel staggers up’

‘He shambles towards the door, pushing it open’

‘Fighting in the distance, Taran fighting Dublinn’

“... I’m too late…” ‘Joel sits down on the stairs of the mansion, stringing the worn down and damaged masks onto his belt’

“... Mandragora… I’m… sorry…” ‘Joel talks to himself, his adrenaline running out’

‘He’s not bleeding’

‘He takes off his gloves’

‘Untouched, pale skin’

“Oh… I’m… fine? Tara bless me… I’m fine!” ‘The Evocator puts the glove back on, opening his palm for a tiny controlled flame”

“Distant sounds of crossbow firing urge him, men screaming, poison filling the street in a green haze snaps him out of his happiness'

‘Joel reaches for his radio, it sizzles in mechanic agony as he puts the device to his ear’

“I have to tell her…”

“Oh what a good soldier I am…”

“Oh what dumb bastard I am…”

Last report

‘A lone spectre walks through the outskirts of Hillock, the empty streets and dimly lit houses replaced with crumbling ruins overseen by the pale guardians of hers bring a unique sense of comfort and home, she can see her men patrolling the control tower’

“Ugh… all the dirty work, all the executions, all the bloody…” ‘She grits her teeth, stepping through the pale bloodlet soldiers, expertly disposed of’

“Commander Mandragora! Come so soon?” ‘An eager companion guard waves to the caster, patrolling alongside a gaggle of her lesser soldiers’

“Aye’ got sold on- err, The Leader wished for me to return to post.” ‘Mandra walks past, tapping her staff against the metal plating’

‘Mandragora’s radio begins to buzz, she doesn't hesitate to raise it to her ear’

“Field Commander Mandragora reporting, who is it?” ‘The Taran caster answers whilst walking to the top of the comms tower, the elite members of her regiment preparing for combat, sharpening weapons, getting drunk, re-painting their mask’

‘Static echoes through the radio, muffled sounds and a blurred voice’

“Commander #andragora, Jo#l r#porting…” ‘The Evocator’s voice manages to reach the stone caster, a sea of dying static filling the background of his hoarse tone’

“Joel… Evocator, what the hell happened? Did you get kidnapped?! Mido was meant to-” ‘Mandragora shouts into the device, garnering the attention of her elites’

“Criminals… ######## The Lea###” ‘The receiving voice distorts further and further as all that remains is laboured breathing paired with static sizzling’

‘The radio goes crystal clear for a moment’

“We are dead men walking” ‘With that, the radio signal goes silent’

“Joel? Joel?! You- You can’t just-” ‘Mandragora stares onto Hillock in dread’

“... So I really was just a bloody tool…” ‘Mandragora mutters as Mido walks up behind her, she turns her head expectantly’

“Where did you send Joel?” ‘Her words come through with the same coldness that guides Mido’s usual manner of speech’

“... Commander, it was his choice.” ‘Mido bows in shame, putting his sheathed sword to the ground’

“It’s his decision for sure, but that lunatic just killed himself…” ‘Mandra motions for The Shadowblade to stand up’

BLAST

‘An ear piercing scream echoes through the city as Hillock cries out’

‘Mido tries to stand up only to fall forth from the beast’s wallow’

‘Mandragora’s eyes widen as she tries shielding herself from the scream’

‘Skin begins to quake, buildings fly off like scales as growths of Originium pierce its still-heaving flesh’

‘Tainted metallic guts turns in on itself as city plates churn within colossal contortion’

‘City blocks turn sideways, crushing buildings without care, streets lead into the sky from the deepest darkest pits of the machine’

‘The skin ruptures as concrete breaks without any resistance, ear piercing cracks as the bones snap like mere branches’

‘Dark clouds of smoke fill the the clear sky, buildings topple over streets, Victorian hug Taran amidst the destruction’

‘Mandragora collapses onto her knees, watching the city turn to a carcass, mutilating itself in its festering ruins only further rupturing upon the still breathing portions’

“... Tool… tool… tool…” ‘Mandragora mutters to herself as she rhythmically starts to punch the metal floor’

‘No one dares to stop her’

“Commander Mandragora, Hillock-” ‘Mido’s voice shakes, trying to stand up and gaze upon the destruction that every one of her team watches with horror’

“MAMA!! NO!! NOO!!” ‘The short Dublinn soldier cries out, rushing to the edge of the control tower trying to get a sight to the speakeasy where they rested a couple weeks prior’

“Mandragora notices their footing loosen once more as the control tower’s plate gets pushed upwards, tilting it in infinitely brutish fashion’

“Those bastards… those bloody BASTARDS!” ‘Mandragora screams out as she rises up in anger’

‘Chunks of metal rip out of the control tower as the earth screams below them’

‘The ruins rupture as the caster screams, lifting high into the air’

“O’ SIX BASTARDS OF TARA! NAY! SIX PIECES OF SHIT UNWORTHY OF THE LEADER’S GAZE! HEAR ME AT ONCE!” ‘Mandragora screams out waving her staff around as the earth seeps up the control tower’

“FEEL MY WRATH, FEEL MY HATE TOWARDS NAUGHT VICTORIA BUT ALL WHO OPPOSE DUBLINN!” ‘Her voice breaks as her staff spews violent orange radiance, her grotesques quiver as the earthen pillars spread like veins’

“GO MY BROOD! BITE THEM IN TWO! EAT THEM! GNAW THEIR DECREPIT BONES O’ BETRAYERS OF TARA!” ‘Mandragora’s voice breaks as she screams, but she doesn't care, keeping her staff in the sky, further glowing with the intense orange hue’

“SHOW NO MERCY! CHAMPION OF STONE BE THE GRAVEKEEPER OF MY KIN!!”

‘The pale grotesques glowing with the refraction of the Arch Shadowcaster arise’

‘In wide flaps of their wings they fly high above the collapsing beast ready to invade its carcass fulfilling their creator’s wrath’

‘Mandragora keeps her eyes open, her staff lit, she floats back down’

“I. AM. BLOODY. DUBLINN!” ‘Mandragora screams out as she slams back to the ground, her voice breaks into silence as earthen pillars arise atop the control tower, stabilising the plate in the strength of stone’

“Huff… Huff…” ‘Mandragora staggers up slowly, leaning onto her staff, Dublinn comrades rush up to her’

“Commander Mandragora, allow me to-” ‘Mido approaches to pick the Feline up’

“No- no need… I’m- ‘Huff’ I’m…” ‘Mandra catches her breath as she tries to step forth’

“Like the hell ya can! Get up ‘ere before you bloody topple over” ‘The Shieldbearer scoops Mandragora up as she loses her staff’s grip’

“I’m fine you bloody rock head!” ‘Mandra hits the helmeted Dublinn on the head’

“Ouch… But commander- you just summoned what? Thirty pillars?” ‘The Forte Shieldbearer asks looking around to count the earthen protrusions littering the top of the tower’

“Tch, this is Hillock’s smallest section, prodding it up… Let me go…” ‘Mandragora grumpily exclaims, trying to wiggle out of the rather spacious hold of the Forte defender’

“She looks to the burning beast, its machine gore laid over itself as houses contort into the new understanding of the city’

“Miss Mandragora, not to alert you or any one of our fellows but… I feel like even a blind, deaf, mute man can see that this is a huge Oripathy pollution risk…” ‘Roy exclaims, joining the trio on the ledge of the comms tower’

“I know what Originium looks like…” ‘Mandra grumbles to herself as she finally lands on ground’

“What the bloody hell do you think I’m gonna do? Go into the thick of it myself?” ‘Mandragora picks up her staff as distant explosions echo through the distance’

“...”

‘The awkward stare of the group sinks into me, do they really think I’d bloody do that?’

“... Until further notice by The Leader directly, we will not move a step towards that…” ‘Mandragora slumps her words as she was about to say home’

“Does that make you bloody happy?” ‘Mandragora shakes her head hesitantly, trying to maintain her fierce tone’

“My… my family…” ‘The short taran man weeps on his knees, slumped away from the rest’

“This city was meant to be ours! I- Commander… why…” ‘An enraged Dublinn soldier rushes up to the group, their tone shaken’

“Tch, ask The Six Shitheads… once my brood is back I’d reckon we can put them back together like a jigsaw, maybe they’ll squeak an answer out if I torment them enough…” ‘Mandragora spits off the ledge of the comms tower’

“Did anyone bring the booze over from the camp?... We’ll probably need it ‘Cough Cough’...” ‘Mandra very heavily suggests to the Forte Shieldbearer’

“Why’d you… OKAY YES I DID OKAY-” ‘The Shieldbearer breaks the bleak attitude of the still standing tower’

Clash of ideals

‘Clear blue sky rests above hillock, a calming spring day’

‘The city of Hillock rests peacefully, the brief overtake had left crossbowmen on patrols and the rallies returned to a more relaxed celebration’

‘A shade whom leads a march of darkness behind each and every step’

“Orange sky, warming air, eugh… If only that banquet would’ve continued the whole day” ‘The Arch Shadowcaster mutters to herself in arrogance, steps echoing through the wide street paired with her regiment’s orderly march.”

“Supposedly where The Leader commanded them to standby’

“Still as wretched as always, ain’t ya? Didn't ya have your daily fill?” ‘A familiar tone greets the tall caster’

“Hogan, I sensed your Refraction from a mile, next time please just greet me like a normal person, and not like… Hogan.” ‘The avant garde masked caster calmly, yet annoyedly remarks, not even turning her head to the crossbow master’

“Aye’ you’re no fun, it’s the time to celebrate ya rancid looney! Live a little, why won’t ya?” ‘Hogan pats The Shadowcaster on her back, causing the caster to sigh and lower the shadows marching behind the cold steps’

“Maybe once we take this rancid Victorian trash heap over, I could make The Leader import some good wine” ‘The Shadowcaster grumbles angrily’

“Oh I see where ya getting at, no wonder why I didn’t find ya in any of the wineries” ‘The Steam Crossbow remarks, giving the caster a small package’

“I was busy helping our ‘mutual interest’ with that spy… Is this tobacco?” ‘The Shadowcaster accepts the gift, holding it in her pale, jewel encrusted hand’

“Ya bet!-” ‘Hogan doesn't even have time before The Arch Shadowcaster lifts her mask and tosses the package in below, whole’

“Something you actually enjoy about Tara, other than yours truly” ‘The old geezer chuckles to the annoyed grunt of The Shadowcaster’

“If you keep up that attitude you will be sunk down to the third least worse thing in Eastern Victoria” ‘The Shadowcaster leader exclaims, adjusting her mask and staring forwards’

‘The Shadowcaster can sense the hum of a lot of masks, someone is approaching with quite the entourage’

“Hah, is she really getting to ya? Never expected you to have any kind words for someone like that” ‘The crossbow captain says, tilting his head to the side and pulling the Dublinn mask aside’

“To be the best caster in Terra is to recognize all aspects of it. And in this aspect I have to exclaim… an unwashed arsed Taran, is indeed better than I.” ‘The Shadowcaster chokes out before standing upright firmly’

“Hah! First time I hear you be soft to a Taran! Times really change…” ‘The old man cackles out before pulling his mask back on’

“N'oublie pas tes origines, crétin.” ‘The Shadowcaster puts a hand on the mask of the crossbow leader, causing silence between the two’

“Someone is approaching, it’s not The Leader.” ‘The Shadowcaster speaks with a cold tone’

“My refraction isn't seared, it is sickened… I’m afraid I know exactly who…” ‘The caster looks to the two apparitions in front of them’

“Tidings, champions of Dublinn! We have come to spread our message!” ‘The Elocutionist steps forth opening his arm to the roof inhabiting crossbowmen and street lurking shadowcasters’

“We have to realise! We are but pawns in the larger scheme, not soldiers of Tara valiantly stepping forth to beat Victoria!” ‘The Elocutionist continues, his tone pompous and inviting’

“Cut the shit, spokesman. My cloak got sullied from your failed ball.” ‘The Shadowcaster retorts annoyedly’

“A banquet where The Leader herself compromised it for us to lose strength! To harvest our power! Think about this o’ powerful kin in Tara!” ‘The Elocutionist continues to boom his voice much to the annoyance of everyone involved’

“You’re talking a lot of conspiratory shite for the two heads of Dublinn’s military, city dweller” ‘Hogan calls out to The Elocutionist’

“Conspiracy? Oh great Steam Crossbow, please see clearly, where will we go now that Hillock has been conquered? A home for the sick and ailing Taran? Nay! We will only be put to more adverse foes, thrown into the maw of Victoria’s army for naught but to satiate The Leader’s bloodlust!” ‘The Elocutionist’s words seem to inspire some of Dublinn’s crossbowmen and shadowcasters, the lowering of some weapons while others remain trained on the two figures’

“I could take on the Victorian army alone quite easily, they falter in face of my infinite Arts aptitude” ‘The Arch Shadowcaster crosses her arms’

“Are ya two really planning to try convincing us two to hop on this bandwagon after dragons know how many years of service?” ‘The old man cackles out, staring at his men raising their aim once more’

“This service was for a cause! But we must awaken to what remains our reason and what remains a selfish delusion! Join us brave men and women of Tara! Fight for our homes, our families and not a horned noble masquerading as-” ‘The Elocutionist gets caught off by a firing shot of The Steam Crossbow, the huge projectile passing mere centimetres from his face’

“Arrête cette merde, you two are the biggest bastards in this ordeal, all you two care about is meaningless currency and not power in one’s self. This didn’t work with your ‘good girl’, why would it with us?” ‘The Shadowcaster exclaims annoyedly, raising her hand up for darkness to enshroud it’

“Oh but you mustn't be ignorant of our own fate! We are- we are-” ‘The Elocutionist steps back as The Accountant steps in his stead’

“Look, we all have our ups and downs, and The Leader did something good, something damn good with gathering us under one banner, but it's time for us to cash out” ‘The man of finance speaks to the increasingly angry soldiers’

“Where’s the other four of ya?” ‘Hogan steps forth in the no-man’s land formed between the two businessmen and Dublinn’s might’

“S- step back! Don’t come any closer” ‘The Accountant backs off, his hand grasping at something to his side’

“Or what huh? If ya six are preparing this suicide, I might as well help finish it early!” ‘Hogan shouts with joy moving everso closer’

‘The Accountant grabs onto a golden handle’

‘Ornate gems decorate the barrel with shining gold exterior, the street glistens with its nepotistic might’

“Hah, nice piece, what’cha expecting to do with that?” ‘The Steam Crossbow asks, raising his trusty tool towards the two’

“This piece here is a Laterano gun refitted for good ol’ everyday Originium bullet use” ‘The Accountant tries to challenge the relaxed crossbower, though his voice shakes regardless’

“And what’ll ya do once a bolt pierces through that morsel ya call a body? Tch, typical tradesman, no muscle below that thick skinned face” ‘The Steam Crossbow laughs, his regiment surrounding the two with silent aim’

“Hogan, for once I do agree with one of the six, step aside so my dear underlings can turn them into mist.” ‘The Arch Shadowcaster snaps her finger as the shadows once again envelop the caster regiment’

“Hah, how’s that for a challenge? Try not hitting me!” ‘Hogan pulls his crossbow back and fires it into the ground, using its power to leap into the air’

‘The Accountant in reaction, fires the gun’

‘A blinding flash into the sky’

‘Poison mist begins to erodes the inside of the buildings as poison breaks through the windows, the two betrayers run, only to be followed by the briefly flying old man’

“Tch, expected to have an ambush prepared. Come to me my minions, I shall provide sanctuary-”

‘Bodies begin to fall from the rooftops into molten piles of flesh and translucent bone the street turned cauldron, shadowblades and companion knights taking the patrol over, followed by Dublinn’s Mistwatch’

“Hiya dear~ Sorry to be late to the party but those two rambled on long enough for me to make proper work of that old geezer’s regiment!” ‘The Toxicologist waves to the Arch Shadowcaster, a sickening grin wide on his face” 

“Without response, a missile of darkness sent his way, piercing through the air’

‘The Toxicologist gestures before pulling a companion guard in front of him’

‘In a matter of moments, all there remains is a shield, even that is being eaten away by the darkness’

“Huh, now that’s what I call potent~ But I’d advise you to watch for your own first~” ‘The Toxicologist points down to her casters being eroded by the mist, they fall one by one, kneeling as their cloaks fall lower and lower’

“Tch, my refraction is perfect against these sorts of Arts, defiler.” ‘The Arch Shadowcaster exclaims, yet her regiment continues to lose more’

“Haha~ Arts? Who said I was using Arts?” ‘The Toxicologist smiles everso wider, his tone growing sickened’

‘The Toxicologist begins to cackle maniacally’

“... Very well, All who can, run from this street, I will be there to guide all of you shortly.” ‘The Shadowcaster exclaims calmly, her hand put on the avant garde mask’

‘The mask is removed’

“COME BACK HERE YA TWO KIDS!” ‘Hogan shouts to the fleeing fellows, catching up rapidly so, poison flows behind them consuming all biological life and even beginning to erode the house paint’

‘From the side arose a bar stool, halting the movement of The Steam Crossbow’

“Ouch- Ow- Gh-” ‘The old man staggers back as the masked man wearing a mock crown walks in front of him, wide arms and confidence to rival the old man’

“Bad idea to walk the morning street alone, ain’t it ol’ timer?” ‘The Bandit asks, putting the chair down and sitting onto it’

“Ha, you’re that one eh? Bastard who took that city over, crown over mask and whatnot” ‘Hogan asks, rubbing his mask and readjusting from the shock’

“It is I, the one-” ‘The Bandt answers, slightly baffled’

“The one who actually does work among ya! Come on then, show me what I passed down to Tara!” ‘The old man reaches his hand out, the other firmly grabbed on the steam crossbow’

“Hah, lemme’ share some wisdom with ya in that case...” ‘The Bandit says with a masked grin’

‘Figures lurk in the shade’

“Ya don't fight fair, ain't the way you win in the rat race” ‘The Criminal stands up’

‘The old man nods, silently looking around’

“I can feel more of ya, what’s your plan then?” ‘Hogan asks, still a shit eating grin below that mask’

‘The Immolator walks out from where The Bandit arose’

“Good sir, wouldn’t happen to know where ya got that fancy tool of yours?” ‘He asks, his voice colder than usual’

“Or who… ‘Huff’ sourced it-” ‘The Accountant continues his sentence, catching his breath’

“Aye’ … So that’s your plan? Guilt tripping me? Sorry but this baby is mine-” ‘Captain Hogan chuckles before The Immolator presses a button’

‘The steam crossbow begins to fall apart, from screws to one half of it crumbling away in the old man’s hand’

“... You bastards planned this for a while, huh… Should’ve listened to that youngin’ when I should’ve…” ‘The crossbow master remarks, watching his prized possession as nothing but a handle’

“So, old man, what now? Join us or die, your choice.” ‘The Bandit walks closer to Hogan’

“Hah, even you’re trying to convince me? What am I? Some celebrity again?” ‘The Steam crossbow questions with the same smug tone’

“I knew your answer already, so let’s skip the dilly dally for your sake, shall we?” ‘The Bandit asks, pulling out his club, twirling it in his hand’

“Ya bunch really are fools…” ‘Captain Hogan chuckles, reaching for his belt’

“A real sniper NEVER forgets his first piece” ‘He cackles pulling out a small crossbow, twirling it in his hand’

A dance of two worlds

‘The infinitely dark face of the Arch Shadowcaster glares through The Toxicologist’s soul, fly in the face of a god’

“Ah~ Some say that the eyes are the mirror to one’s soul… yet I  can’t exactly pin-point if you happen to have any… How exotic~” ‘The poisoner remarks with a challenging smirk, The Shadowcaster leader steps out of the fleeing regiment’

‘The cloak begins to fly as the mist erupts, digging through the poison mist with ease, the caster of Gaul, the spectre flies up to the rooftops’

‘Any of those unfortunate to stand on the roof edge immediately get devoured by shadow as the smoke faced caster steps in front of The Toxicologist, red eyes pierce the darkness brought upon the Mistwatch leader’

‘The Arch Shadowcaster, taking a small piece of tobacco and popping it into her chasm-like face’

“Ha~ so there are eyes!” ‘The Toxicologist stands in front of the apparition of death’

‘A blade of darkness strikes, unnaturally sidestepped by The Toxicologist, a wide, sickly grin emergent on his face’

“Admirable reflexes. Do you use yourself as a lab rat, Defiler?” ‘The Shadowcaster asks frustrated, sharp shadows lashing out, roof tiles shatter with ease’

“Only the good ones! The bad ones remain for poor sods like you~” ‘The Toxicologist throws out a series of purple vials’

‘Blades of darkness strike the vials, purple mist erupts, piercing into the smoke and onto the caster’

“How’s that for a try~? My near-perfect, special blend for special headaches!” ‘The Toxicologist asks as the roof below The Shadowcaster begins to melt, The Criminal’s ambush force stare at the shrieking caster consumed by the purple mist’

“...” ‘The cloak of The Shadowcaster erodes in seconds’

‘Pale flesh melts off paler bones, falling off turned to dust mid-air, reduced to nothing as rancid liquid drips down between the eroded tiles’

“Impressionnant pour des jeux d'enfants” ‘The shade refuses to die, her tone lacks frustration of any kind’

“Hah… ghosts talking? Go now, tap tap my dear fly off now~ You’re free!” ‘The Toxicologist watches as the poison erodes lower, the shadows remains present’

“Vous m'avez aidé à atteindre la perfection, merci” ‘The mist answers in a hum as the cloak reforms in jet black glory’

‘Silhouettes of arms and legs form into solid mist as the entity walks towards The Toxicologist, crow wings envelop his vision’

“You… Ha, haha… no… Men, women, all of us… I’m sorry.” ‘The Toxicologist steps back, fidgeting in his bag’

‘The shadow clears its spectral throat, returning to an absent, but still distantly human voice’

“You will watch everyone you ever knew die. Kneel over. Fall to pieces. Turn to dust. Reduced further until the very world forgets the materials which were used to make their pathetic existence a thing.” ‘The Arch Shadowcaster explains calmly as with each step the mist expands consuming all those who try to run, Mistwatch shatter in front of the poisoner’

“Haha… would it be so late to call you beautiful, dearest shadowcaster? A mist like that… I always aspired to be that powerful…” ‘The Toxicologist asks, feeling the shadows gnaw away as the lady of Arts looks to him, a world encircled with darkness his tone droops to weasel his way out’

‘His hands firmly gripping onto a vial of burning red liquid’

“Do you wish to acknowledge my power in your last waking moments?” ‘The shade walks towards The Toxicologist, the world is naught but darkness as the gas mask of The Criminal erodes in the void of her arts’

“Yes- Yes I do! Please, please give me your name if you believe I’m worthy!” ‘The Toxicologist pleads, fidgeting behind his back excitedly’

“Well, it was you who purified me of weakness… Made me connect with Arts on the closest level… I shan’t scream my true name to the world, lean in close.” ‘The shadow beckons The grinning Toxicologist’

“Day is soon gonna rise…” ‘The Toxicologist mentions as he looks the piercing red eyes in the iris’

“Hate it all the same, but you won’t see it, lean closer.” ‘The shade commands, allowing the poisoner her ethereal neck’

‘The Toxicologist’s hands quiver in excitement, opening the lid of the red vial, his fingers immediately begin to burn by the fumes’

“My name is…” ‘The shadow opens her lips’

“Beatrix…” ‘The shade begins to consume The Toxicologist’

‘In a brash move, the poisoner dashes forth sticking the red vial into the mass that became of The Shadowcaster’

“And my name’s Daniel~ And you are… My perfect…”

“Testing dummy!”

‘The red vial implodes inside the body of the shade, the very concept of her soul begins to scream, yell, shout as the red mist digests the darkness’

“YOU- YOU INSIGNIFICANT!” ‘The shade screams out as The Toxicologist crawls back from the entity, his arm melted off’

‘He chuckles’

“It’s Danny for friends~ Be sure to find me in hell once we meet there~” ‘The Toxicologist says watching the red haze envelop The Arch Shadowcaster Beatrix’

“... My perfect blend… to destroy the soul…” ‘The Toxicologist chuckles, looking at his arm, only his forearm remaining, even that is melting off’

‘He reaches for his comms’

“... Brothers… I’ll take some time… off…” ‘The poisoner begins losing consciousness, sitting up against a chimney overlooking Hillock’

‘A familiar mask greets the poisoner’

“Convict… help…” ‘The Toxicologist calls out to the silent man, who without words picks him up’

‘He feels an unnatural heat in his arms, but his eyes close, darkness fades in’

‘The morning begins to rise everso higher, the street behind the poison haze ’

“Hah! Sadly it still won’t be no equal fight, sir” ‘The Bandit claps for the lackeys to surround the man’

“Surprised ya didn't bring the whole regiment to take me down!” ‘Hogan chuckles, walking circles with The Bandit, eyeing the lackeys’

“They are out killing every last scum willing to die for Eblana” ‘The Bandit exclaims nonchalantly’

“So what then? Ya kill half of Dublinn… Then everything gets solved. How'd ya gonna deal with Victoria, deserters?” ‘Captain hogan asks, lowering his guard’

“Will ya look that poor girl in the eyes as you call her a betrayer of the cause?” ‘Hogan asks The Bandit’

‘The Criminal dashes forward and swings at the crossbow captain’

“Shut your gob.” ‘The crowned mask grits his teeth’

“Then answer me youngin’” ‘Hogan chuckles as he easily blocks the attack’

“...” ‘The Bandit stays silent’

“She fights for Tara, doesn't she?” ‘Hogan presses the question’

“... If she remains blind I’ll… I’ll-” ‘The Bandit hesitates’

‘His guard falls’

‘Captain Hogan kicks the criminal in the gullet followed by a bolt shot straight into his shoulder’

“If ya gonna stay indecisive, people’ll get ya, now then… SHOW OL’ HOGAN WHAT Y’ALL MADE OUTTA!” ‘The crossbow master shouts out as a ghastly scream echoes behind them’

“HE HURT THE BOSS!” ‘One of the lackeys shouts out as the five of them dash to the old man’

“Haha! Give it ya best shot” ‘Captain Hogan dashes into the closest lackey, unloading a bolt in their neck’

‘Without missing a beat, the old man clashes with a strike by a lackey behind him, grappling onto and throwing the poor sod into the biggest one’

‘Captain Hogan dances around the field before the ground begins to shake’

BLAST

‘Black smoke pierces into the sky’

‘A series of explosions below the streets sending debris into the sky as the houses begin to drop and sink into the ground’

‘Homes topple in on each other as people try to rush out of the collapsing ruins’