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Serene End
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The clamorous clashing of plated fists rippled the air, the minotaur doing all in its power to obey its master's command. It launched its gigantic, muscular arms forward, attempting to grapple the suit. But contrary to its weight, the armour was surprisingly swift and evasive. It utilized that yet-experienced speed in this moment, its sabatons springing away from the minotaur's grasp.

It then riposted, brutally drilling its plated knuckles into the minotaur's stomach. The attack ruptured its lungs of air, its eyes bulging out of their sockets. The minotaur staggered backwards, its arms hugged tightly around its abdomen as it coughed up blood. The living armour continued, unleashing another overpowering punch. It smashed in the minotaur's face, an overwhelming strike which was the final nail in this minotaur's coffin. It let out one pained shrill as it toppled over, shaking the platform tremendously. The horrible cries of the minotaur was followed by utter silence.

Like a red flag sent to wave, the group now just turned itself. The minotaur was their plan to best this hulking colossus of runite, and now they were stripped bare of any inkling at all. The armour returned to its flanged mace, still stuck in the floor. It wrapped its fingers around the mace's shaft, ripping it out from the ground. With its mace firmly in grasp, the armour then returned to its soulless pursuit of the enemy.

"Now what!?" Shakir frantically panicked, suddenly then glaring at Telvern. "Your minotaur did nothing!"

"You would be... far more efficient if you could retain an even-head," the genius adamantly criticized, struggling. "Produce... not panic."

"Do not speak to me in such a tongue, laacrán caza! "

"Please calm yourself, Dimri, " then the usually stolid assassin Libitina requested of her comrade, instantly springing reaction from him.

Shakir bowed his head, humbly holding himself to his queen. "Forgive me, queen," he apologized.
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17-Mar-2017 20:35:56

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Raphael did not allow himself to be consumed by panic and alarm. He calmly evaluated the situation, analyzing the armour. He noticed that which remained in its shield, the battleaxe of the Rune Minotaur. Could it mean that the minotaur still existed in this world? There was only one way Raphael could find out.

The silver-haired prince then stepped up to the plate, drifting off into the distance. This act drew plenty of attention, some reacted appropriately. But almost as soon as he departed, Telvern realized the same thing Raphael must have. He argued against any and all pursuers, confident and faithful of whatever plan Raphael had in mind.

Raphael calmly trod ahead, hearing it behind him as its sabatons crashed over and over and over again. Then suddenly, the armour leapt out from the smoke, its mace held way above its helmet. The young prince reacted quickly due to his anticipation, his keen reflexes the key to his success. He jumped several feet behind him, finding himself strangely off-balanced.

He quickly regained foothold, feeling it again repeat just like his heart. The clamor and crash, so he counted, one... two... three... four... five... Just before six, the armour reappeared, covered partially under the sifting and swirling fog. It lifted its mace, but despite the threat, Raphael remained. He could hear a stampede, growing louder and louder. Its source was a gamble, but Raphael had to believe his gut. At the very last possible second, the silver-haired prince dove to his right and dropped to the ground.

And that was when it collided, ramming vigorously into the back of the armour. The presumed-dead minotaur let out a deep, bellowing roar as it gored straight into the runite behemoth. The armour was completely swept off of its sabatons, being carried off by the minotaur with all of its might.
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17-Mar-2017 20:37:17

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Raphael quickly crawled away from the edge as the two giants plummeted, not wanting to get touched by the ocean water. Their massive bodies then crashed into the water, generating a massive splash even bigger than they were. The silver-haired prince then rose up to his feet, watching the water rippling intensely as though shaking from shock.

He could finally catch his breath, returning to the comrades he had left behind. He could make out the sound of concern crop up in the distance, Telvern's name coming up quite a bit. No surprise, with the sudden loss of his familiar, he becomes weak and ill. From the shadowy mist, Raphael relocated his company, his stern amethyst eyes cast down upon the debilitated genius.

"It's done," the prince stated.

"...G-good," the incapacitated genius commended in a weak, pained stutter.

"So we've completed our task here," the old master Malik then unexpectedly entered, grabbing at his injured left side.

"Yes... it would seem that way," Daevarro affirmed, ailed by his own malady.

"But a question still lingers," mentioned then the merchant-turned-assassin Kereske, clutching his chin. "Did any of you... find a Solasúian here?"

"...No," the collective response began to sprout, each person remembering the face of every adversary they encountered today. No, none of them possessed the characteristics of a god. No one would speak a confirmation, for all they knew now was lament, lament and deep regret. Just what have they done?

"It would seem we've been deceived," Libitina then calmly, yet unfortunately concluded. "The real question is, what for?"

"Those damned glowing-eyes," bitterly growled the Lamian Shakir. "How dare they force us to murder our own kinsmen! They'll pay for us!"

"'Lax, pal," then advised Calvin, his pale blue eyes turning to Kereske, who seemed in deep thought. "Whatcha thinkin' 'bout, tycoon?"
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17-Mar-2017 20:38:17

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"I can only believe that the people we killed here were members of a rebellion of sorts," the merchant-turned-assassin theorized, recollecting his kills with great detail. "They were humans, well-armed and literate, unlike the vast majority of slaves. And they were without binds, slave soldiers at the very least have cuffs around their wrists and ankles if they require restraint. What other sort of cause would require such able-bodied men of this nature?"

"Then, shall we ask?" Libitina then asked, drawing the attention of mostly every soul around.

"Ah, yes, you did knock one of them out, didn't you?" Malik then remembered.

"It's a waste of time," Raphael then declined, crossing his arms and breaking everyone's gaze upon Libitina. "We know what we've done here. It's something we're going to have to burden for the rest of our lives. There's nothing anyone can say or do that will lighten that load."

"But think about it, Raphael... If there is another sort of resistance movement here in Alverra, maybe we can help them out. I mean, they would want the same thing we do, wouldn't they? Freedom and equality for everyone! Governanti shouldn't be the only country with it, right? It should be everywhere, like it was in the pre-Solasúian era." Daevarro argued with great effort, convincing Raphael to a degree.

"...Fine," the silver-haired prince replied in a sigh. His stern gaze then found Libitina, a woman upon her knees as she tended to the pain-gripped Telvern. "Lead the way."

The queen assassin acknowledged Raphael's order, leaving Telvern's side. She then led them to where she left the unconscious soldier, the only body left breathing upon this encirclement of death. The woman laid there silently with a large gash in the back of her head, blood staining her beautiful dark copper hair.
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17-Mar-2017 20:39:17

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They then borrowed some rope and a bucket from their ship and bound her wrists and ankles, making her into a prisoner. When they were ready, they dipped the bucket into the ocean and quickly threw out its content all over the woman's face. It took a moment into the dumping before she finally woke up, coughing as she felt the water drench her. She slowly opened her eyes, her blurry vision able to make out indistinguishable figures before her.

"...You?" she could just barely make out, only able to feel the burn of salt in her nose, in her eyes, and in the wound on the back of her head.

She closed her eyes real tight and shook her head as if to wake up, to overcome her senses being overcome. The spellsword soldier then felt a cloth of sorts wipe across her head, face, and neck. An unusual gesture from the kind of people she knew she was captured by, causing her to further inspect her captors.

Through eyes watery from the burn of salt, she found a slew of characters before her, ranging from the stern-faced to the coldhearted, the calm to the whimsical. What a bizarre array of people that he has employed, her hurtful observation clearly readable on her face.

"There we go," smiled Calvin, then waving to the young woman. "'Well, 'ello there! Name's Calvin, Calvin Albertia. Pleasure ta meet ya, Miss...?"

"Who... the hell... do you think you are?" she spitefully questioned, dripping with water still upon her.

"Huh?" uttered the assassin, then facing her disdainful tone with a slight smile. "Miss Who The Hell Do You Think You Are, eh? Man, dat'll be a 'ard one ta 'member... How 'bout "Miss Hell" fer short?"

"Calvin," then solemnly named Raphael, staring strongly at the social assassin, a sign to him that Raphael wanted him to step aside. The assassin respectfully took a bow, allowing the silver-haired heir to step into the spotlight. "What's your name?"
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17-Mar-2017 20:42:49

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"What does my name matter?" the spellsword soldier then returned, monotone. "Such details are needless from someone you're about to kill."

"Who said anything about killing you?"

"You're the dogs of Silas Alverra," she uttered that name with great furor. "Your mission, your purpose for coming here was to end our operation by killing us all."

"No," Raphael candidly declined. "He tasked us with the destruction of this platform, nothing more."

"Why then...?"

"I doubt any of you would have given it up willingly. And why would you? This place is the perfect strategic point against the Solasúians. You can gather intel, spy on them, and there's not a damn thing they can do about it."

The spellsword soldier then went quiet. Raphael and all others patiently awaited her next action, for her to further this conversation. "Kellyn," she gave out a name, her name.

"Who are you affiliated with?" Raphael then continued. "Some kind of resistance army against Silas?"

They then could hear a low, exhausted laughter emit from this woman named Kellyn. ""Resistance"?" the spellsword jeered as though entertained by the label. "...No, we're not some petty rebellion trying to overthrow a totalitarian government."

"So what are you then?"

Her head had hung low for the majority of the conversation, but Raphael could feel himself pierced by a pair of eyes most chilling and resentful. "A liberator," she proudly, patriotically declared. "I hail from the city of Yanille, the last bastion of mankind. There, its armies march under the unified banner of the Yanillian Liberation."

"And what is its goal?"

"For now, it's to reclaim our stolen city of Ardougne," she answered. "We are a detachment of spies sent to this platform to gather reconnaissance of Silas and his forces. We act as a nervous system of sorts, whatever information we receive, we relay back to Yanille. And if they, the brain in this case, have a change in plan, they can relay a message back to us."
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17-Mar-2017 20:44:28

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"I see," the heir acknowledged. "You say reclaiming Ardougne is your Liberation's cause "for now". What do you mean by that?"

"One day, we will march upon our stolen city, we will bring down the tyrant Silas Alverra and all who bear eyes like his. We will reclaim our great city of Ardougne, bask in its glory again. But even with Silas dead, there are still so many others just like him. That's why we will continue our advance, from Great Ardougne all the way to the Salve River. We will not rest until we've liberated this world from the Solasúian scourge and return it to what it once was: bounteous, free."

"Complete annihilation is not the right way to freedom," the heir then thoroughly rejected, shaking his head. "There are many Solasúians who are kind and generous, Solasúians who oppose subjugation and violence. There are those who were born into this situation, those who've done nothing to deserve counter-oppression and genocide. Humans cannot hope to rise above if they fall even lower than the Solasúians' level."

"So what would you propose we do then?"

"What I'm going to do when I return to Governanti and claim the throne: give the humans emancipation and equal rights."

"...Equality? With them?" the woman named Kellyn then replied in a mocking tone. "You've lost your mind."

"No, the person who's truly lost their mind is the one who justifies complete genocide."
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17-Mar-2017 20:45:56

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"Solasúians are no different than bears upon a hunter's homestead," she boldly argued. "Invaders, belligerent animals with no conscience or thought process. They're stronger than us, and they abuse this power by taking what they want and doing whatever they please. They use violence to threaten us, and that has forced us many of us into submission, into a perpetual state of fear. But we, the hunter, possess the gift of intelligence. And with our intelligence, we will advance, arm ourselves with tools to overcome our flaws and weaknesses. And then we shall begin the hunt, tracking them and killing them all until they no longer pose a threat to our home, to our family, to our livelihood."

"Spin it however you wish, it doesn't make it sound any different," Raphael responded to this analogy, his voice stinging with rejection.

Kereske then broke away from this woman, turning to Raphael, vessel of his drág Essa. "What do you intend to do with her, Raphael?" the merchant-turned-assassin curiously pried. "I don't believe it entirely necessary to kill her, but..."

"...It's clear that this Yanillian Liberation is no ally of ours," the old master Malik then inputted.

"But we don't have to kill her," Daevarro then spoke up. "Sure, she has a different stance on the subject, but... I don't think that means we should kill her."

"I agree," Libitina concurred with the dark-robed young man. "There's been enough killing today. There's no need for anymore."

"Dat's makes three-a us," Calvin chipped in. "She ain't done nothin' ta us ta deserve ta die."

Raphael listened to the conversation be held by his allies, contemplating their words well. Indeed, taking her life was not justifiable. Although she may have a different opinion than theirs, it shouldn't be warrant enough to kill her. Far too much bloodshed had fallen, the deaths of many humans claiming this day. To Raphael, that alone was more than enough reason not to kill her.
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17-Mar-2017 20:48:05

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The silver-haired heir sighed deeply, withdrawing his blade back into its scabbard. "If that's what all of you believe is best, then I won't argue against it," Raphael said to his allies.

"...If you intend to stay... your hand, do you expect to... carry her aboard like a piece of luggage?" then questioned a pained voice from behind the group, finding a cynical Telvern on the ground, leaning back on one of the platform's many wooden pillars. "Need I remind you... that we know nothing... of he who helms the ship?"

"What are you getting at?" Raphael then questioned, suspicious.

"Deny it as you will... but we were tasked with the slaughter of every person aboard this platform," the furtive genius went on, fighting back his ailment. "If we intend to spare her... and sink this platform, then we'd be required to carry her... aboard the ship. As it stands, we've little clue as to the identity of this Thaumas, his aims and whom... he is associated with. Our pardoning... would be a direct violation of the terms of our agreement, and if Thaumas bleeds for the Alverrian hivemind, then he would surely... notify Silas of our task's... unfulfillment."

"Ah, c'mon, egghead," lightly dismissed Calvin. "Ain't ya seen the guy? There ain't no way he's-a groupie 'n Silas's gang."

"But it does stand as a possibility," thought Malik, crossing his arms as he pondered. The group conversed feverishly, trying to solve this dilemma birthed by Telvern. A crisis, a conflict of conscience and logic. Some saw the point he was getting at, while others soundly rejected its very nature.

Yet all the while, the spellsword Kellyn slyly looked down upon her bindings. A simple wrapping of rope, easily enough to tear through if her fingers have free movement. She managed to place whatever finger she could upon the rope, its tattered hide beginning to smolder and burn. Her magic easily burned through her entanglement, freeing her from their binds.
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17-Mar-2017 20:50:40 - Last edited on 17-Mar-2017 20:51:06 by Serene End

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Kellyn then quickly bounced up to her feet and went into a full sprint, attracting reaction from her captors. Her freedom not a complete shock, but it still prompted them to give chase. She went into a pouch at her waist, her fingers securing a small stone-like tablet of a peculiar nature.

Raphael's eyes saw that tablet, recognizing it in an instant. "Let her go," he ordered those in pursuit. Everyone halted, looking back at the prince who commanded their disengagement. He watched with solemn eyes at she did as he expected, throwing that tablet at the ground beneath her.

Despite its hard, stone-like appearance, the tablet smashed into pieces on impact. And from its remains spawned a swirling, magical, purple portal, one which whisked her away from the threat and harm of those murderous dogs of Silas. There was no negative reaction to this happening, for it corresponded with their decision without Telvern's conflicting logic.

Raphael closed his eyes and calmly breathed, still dealing with all of the pain and regret of this day. "Daevarro," he named, drawing the young man's attention. "Cast a fireball at the platform. We're done here."

With the battle over, the remaining Lamians attended the bodies of their fallen. They gave them their proper last rites, digging their daggers into their torsos and cutting them wide open. They were grievous, gazing with deep melancholy at the toll, at the complete loss of life. But they had to carry on, for their queen and mother were in need of their service.

It wasn't too long after that that the group departed this platform, setting sail as the platform began to burn. They gave birth to a ravenous flame, a sight which Raphael stood there and watched with utmost bitterness. His face as if he loathed the flame's very existence, or rather fire's very existence in general.
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17-Mar-2017 20:53:18

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