Wolf Chronicle: Wolf out of Water

Tristian looked at her over his shoulder as they crossed through the orchard lining the pathway to the main doors of the palace. He searched her face for lies, she was telling none.

"How can someone know magick but not be aware of it before hand? Didn't your parents tell you it was in your blood or something? Or are you the first?"

He didn't know why, but he felt he could trust her on the subject.

However, in the end Tristian seemed to have arrived at the same conclusion she had upon stopping at the main doors of the palace to find meaty piles of what were probably the very gate guards they'd wondered about. Still clasping their weapons in hand, but the aforementioned "hands"'s whereabouts were debatable.

Tristian frowned deeply, sapphire blazing with a fury in the face of meaningless slaughter. That was beyond murder, or simply getting someone out of the way. That took the kind of person who relished in the thrill of bloodshed. Someone or something that Tristian would be determined to take down before the nights end.

Kneeling to the side of one of the corpses, Tristian gave a silent prayer before taking up the sword of the honorable stranger and looked over to Laecora. "Still wanna keep going?"

"Fool you are indeed, if you think this is to be a grand adventure." A voice called out behind the pair, as the brown-cloaked figure approached them. "The creature you are ignorantly hunting is known as Xumevyn, the Broken King."

The figure stopped just short of them and allowed his wrapped bundle to fall to the ground. It unsnapped one of the straps securing it, and the cloth fell away.

"While the fact that you possess a modicum of magical ability is impressive in this age, the creature that is now before you is a remnant of a fractured bloodline. Much like the emperor's kin are directly descended from Sylvanse, the great God of magic and progress, so is Xumevyn kith and kin to the Twisted One that is sealed away." The man slowly removed his cloak, folding it and setting it aside. His face was almost unnaturally unblemished, skin smooth and pale. His hair was black, and cut short and ragged. His eyes, that same bright liquid silver, scanned the hallway before them. "Too long have I hunted him. Too long has he been free. He cannot be allowed to succeed here, or all the three of us wrought will have been for naught."

The man reached down to the now revealed contents of the bundle.. Three swords, each of a different style; a single-edged blade of the East, of the same shade of black as the leather armor the man wore.. A broadsword of the Western style, engraved with an elaborate "A" on the hilt.. And the last, a strange, jagged sword, with a chain dangling from it's pommel.

"Today.." The man's voice changed slightly, deepening, as if reverberating from deep from some deep chasm. "Today the hunt ENDS."

With slightly weary eyes, his gaze flickered over the features of the female. Thinking long and hard about whether she really knew what might have been going on or not. His eyes narrowed suspiciously, but before he could speak, he stood, taking up the defensive as the cloaked man revealed himself by voice before presence.

Wanting SO BAD to yell at this stranger for sneaking up on them with all that was going on, Tristian used his better judgement and only looked up the towering double doors left slightly ajar, a dark chill pouring out from between them. "So it's not human... I suppose that makes it a little easier then." He said in a calm tone, a hand reaching up to his scarf thoughtfully as the cloaked man unraveled his cloak and the weapons he apparently kept on hand. Weapons from different regions. A fellow traveler? Or a mercenary?

Judging by his face, probably neither. He didn't look too much like he'd been through too many hardships, but if this man had indeed been following the thing responsible for all this bloodshed... then how couldn't he have face any? Was he just that good? Tristian wondered for a moment when turning his gaze on the stranger. The information was well and dandy, but one thing stood out in his mind.

"And, just who are you? How do you know all of this? How can we trust that you're not working with this Zoo-thingy?" His tone was suspicious, but his lazy stance and narrowed eyed made him look more like some young-punk trying to pick a fight with anyone as a result of an inability to completely grasp the situation.

"I go to all the trouble of hiding my face as I travel through Sylvanse, and the two people closest to actually finding Xumevyn don't recognize me." The man grumbled quietly to himself, putting a palm to his forehead. "Bloody figures. My luck."

The man tensed suddenly, as the sibilant hiss of steel scraping against stone became just barely audible. He recognized the sound, though he didn't expect the others to. He grabbed two of the swords he had placed down, the Western broadsword and the strange, jagged blade.

"He comes," the man hissed from between clenched teeth. "Run, fight, hide, it doesn't matter what you do. Just do not get in my way."

Tristian paused to think about the man's face.. Was he familiar? Tristian couldn't say the man was, not to him at least, being a visitor and all to the royal city. Then again, remembering important people wasn't exactly one of Tristian's strong suits. That was usually Natalia's job.

Thoughts on the face of the stranger easily melted away with the eerie scraping noise echoing through the corridors of the palace and he immediately looked up and around down the dank and lifeless halls. Unlike the other however, Tristian wasn't so quick to leave someone with seemingly the same goal behind and alone. He preferred to work alone, sure, but to leave someone else to die? Not his style.

he examined the blade he liberated from the corpse still behind them, running his finger along the edge, then nodding in approval. "this'll do." Then his gaze moved to Laecora. "But i'd prefer the eastern styled sword if you don't mind." And he knelt to take up the last of three swords brought by the cloaked man, holding out the long sword to the woman, hilt out. "You know how to use one of these?"

"Be careful with that sword," the man growled at Tristian. "That's the only one of the three that's actually mine."

The man shifted, one sword resting on his shoulder while the other pointed at the ground in front of him. The chain on the jagged blade seemed to slither up and wrap around the man's wrist of it's own accord, while the longsword almost hummed, as if in anticipation for the battle to come. His eyes were locked on the half-open corridor, the sibilant scrape of chain-on-stone growing louder by the moment.

"Since it seems we're going to be fighting on the same side..."

He smirked, an expression not quite reaching his grim, silvery orbs.

"My name is Sinja. Sinja Thorne."

Tristian frowned a little bit, so she wans't too battle experienced? Why did he drag her into this? Stupid...

"Don't worry. If things get too bad, i want you to turn and run as fast as you can. I won't let you die, and this guy.." Tristian cut himself off at the name given by the cloaked man. Eyes narrowed a little bit. he knew that name. "Well.. I'm not sure if this is an honor or if you'll abandon me in the middle of battle."

An obvious distaste, but they'd have to settle that later, when an apostle of darkness wasn't heading right for them.

Standing calmly with the katana in a reversed grip, he nodded, watching the hall. "I'll put it to good use, don't worry. any pointers on fighting this thing?"

Tips? For fighting the Broken King? Sinja would have laughed, if he'd been in a slightly better mood. Tense, he let his smirk drop.

"He fights with a sentient weapon, another remnant from a bygone era. It is capable of fighting autonomously, able to battle Xumevyn's foes without him even being conscious. It's difficult, but possible to neutralize them temporarily by tangling them with each other. Once his chains are out of the way, he'll likely resort to magics. His power is far greater than mine in that respect, but we really have no choice at this point." Sinja gritted his teeth. He hated being in situations like this, where the upper hand lay so heavily with his enemy.

"I hear the sooo-uuund of a heee-rooooo or threeeee!" A mad cackle could be heard from behind the doors of the corridor. A new sound joined the scraping of the chains; a wet, fleshy sound, dragging across the floor. The creature called Xumevyn let out one great bellow and, with a kick of his boot, slammed the double-door open. His chains immediately lashed out, flinging the remains of one still semi-recognizable guard at Sinja.

"And lucky for me, one of them is a legend in his own right!" Xumevyn almost giggled, the chains writhing around his arms. "To what do I owe this honor, O Saviour of Fools?"

Tristian tried to put in his mind the mental image of a sentient chain weapon. Like a snake? or pit of snakes.. to be accurate perhaps tendrils would be better thought of. The more he thought of it, the more menacing this man became. To wield mystic forces by both ability and weapon, this creature must indeed be someone to be trifled with, if Sinja hadn't defeated it yet... what hopes had the rest of them?

Feh, thinking never did help his mood.


"Well that sounds fair." Tristian replied with a dry smile before the menacing tone of Xumevyn came from beyond the double doors. Instantly a chill swept over Tristian and for the first time in his life, he considered fleeing as a possible option. Common sense intervened however. If the guy was stronger than them, he couldn't run away cause he'd be killed anyway, but if the thing was all talk? They'd kill it.

Simple right? HAH.

As the resounding crashing of the swinging double doors reached his ears after the call, Tristian looked up to see the fleshy heap hurled for the man know to most who didn't live under a rock as a Legend. Tristian was no fool. His eyes remained on the chains that'd acted of their own free will. How they seemed to move as mere extensions of Xumevyns thoughts. Could they be cut? Or perhaps he'd try to tangle them as Sinja suggested... Still. He waited, looking this creature over for a quick analysis. Marking down possible weak points and openings they could exploit.

"Still fighting with their swords?" Xumevyn laughed madly, not so much as budging from where he stood. Indeed, the chains wrapped around him seemed more than happy to fight Sinja for him. "Is that out of some kind of sick sentimentalism? They're dead, o saviour, and killing me will not bring them back!"

Xumevyn's back arched, and he cried out in his own sick, twisted form of glee.

"Oh yes. I remember that day! How the large one stood by, hovering so protectively over that girlchild you were so fond of, allowing that pesky Immortal to challenge me instead. He lasted awhile, I'll admit, but in the end the Twisted One's acolytes always triumph!"

Xumevyn was well and truly mad now, for there were no 'acolytes' of the Twisted One remaining.. Only him, and his broken soul. He clenched his fingers into fists.

"And you, you were unconscious the entire time! Fallen, beneath a pile of bodies! Hahaha! A pity.. I had hoped you'd be conscious to hear the girl scream! Sinja, Sinja she cried!" Xumevyn mocked. "She died while you lay knocked out, not ten feet away!"

Tristian closed his eyes for a brief moment in time, thinking back, separating himself from mind and body to stand away from the present in an instant. Sapphires looked at the back of his eyelids as an apology never spoken would never be heard, but it calmed him to know he'd at least tried. There was no room for distractions. A false move would land him on the body count faster than he could say "Fucked."

When he returned to his awareness, the reality struck true as the resounding clanks of separate lengths of chains being batted aside like a pack of hounds struck on the nose but too bold to back down. Tristian cut off to the right at a sprint, following the lead of their "fearless leader" as Xumevyn was going bat-shit crazy trying to break Sinja's spirits.

Tristian hoped it wouldn't be so easy, he didn't want to die from something so pointless.
Arcing around and digging in, Tristian slid only a few feet to correct his direction on the blood dampened stone of the entranceway to the palace where they had gathered, dashing in low and fast toward the weaving sea of chains so stained with blood the moonlight ignited the crimson haze, unable to bleach them with it's ivory kiss.

With the sword of Sinja at hand, Tristian's resolve was shown through movements remnant of a wolf traveling through a dense forest. flawlessly navigating through the sea of assailing chained links with short steps and quick movements without wasting a step. several times having to correct and try at another angle, but each step bringing him closer to their foe as Xumevyn looked too preoccupied and faithful in his magic weapon to protect him.

It was cause of this shortsightedness, he hoped, that Tristian took to the air in a splay of flailing chain links trying to keep up. They fell short of him, ganked by a lack of length as the weaving advance Tristian had chosen was not only meant to avoid them, but tangle them in a mesh while trying to protect their master.

Tristian could taste the victory, knowing for SURE this strike wouldn't be able to be avoided, but somewhere in the back of his mind he felt like he was forgetting something...

Forgetting something CRUCIAL as he came down at Xumevyn's back, forgetting something dangerously important as his blade lashed out true to form to try and sever the beasts head.

But...What could it have been?

Sinja did his best to ignore Xumevyn's words, but it was apparent from the way his strikes became more frenzied and less coordinated that he was not entirely successful. The jagged sword struck only the chains, while he lashed out at Xumevyn itself with the Western broadsword. Swirling runes flared to life on the surface of his black leather armor, pulsing with arcane energies. The jagged sword seemed to throb in time with the runes, faint white flames beginning to eke out from the hilt and lick at the blade.

"In their memory!" Sinja cried, using the strange sword to strike hard at the writhing mass of chains. With an eerily human shriek, the links cracked, a foul green mist spraying from within. The remainder of the chains fell flat, devoid of their life any longer.

"No!" Xumevyn hissed as his chains fell to the ground, the mist dissipating quickly. It had taken centuries to hoard all those souls into the chain! He gathered his will, and thrust his palm skyward.

"Burst!" He snarled, releasing his will in a sudden tempest. Winds swirled around him, gusts strong enough to cause the stone beneath his feet to groan, exploding outwards in all directions, with himself at the center.

Tristian's blade was mere centimeters from it's target when he felt it. Something relevant of a damned freight train slamming into his body. With all he could muster he tried to force his hand last minute, but the blade barely grazed the garb of the creature as his body was thrust back and through the air.

With an ear splitting crash Tristian's body struck the hard surface of one of the towering double doors of the entrance tot he castle,cracking it slightly, before crashing to the stone floor of the landing and rolling down a few steps with a pained groan, and holding his ribs with one arm.

"Well...That wasn't very well planned out..." He realized what he'd forgotten. Magic...oooh how he hated it when it wasn't on his side. If only he had his Case..but he left it at the Inn with Natalia. He groaned a bit more, spitting onto the steps a splatter of red. "Yup... Definitely broke something with that one."