They Awoke (Open)

[Synkkis Kyyneltya]

The forest in this area of Skaven, darkened by night, was battered for weeks with snow and wind. The grounds were sparkling and untouched except for a single ragged trench that cut towards a cliff face. Winding up the base towards a split in the rock were the signs of man and beast, for a wolf's skull stared across the frozen wastes above the opening. He was flanked by bright blue painted runes punctuated by a freshly wet and red hand-print on the right side of the entrance. As the opening descended into the mountain slightly, a warm light greeted those who would see down into it.

An old, moss-stuffed door slammed open and two boots stumbled into a simple stool in a hurried crash. A body fell slumped at those feet. It was gaunt, heavily wounded, and bleeding black. A swirl of a ratted, purple cloak dodged to the side as an unearthly growl rumbled and a clawed hand swiped downwards through the doorway. The rush of wind blew out the soft, warm light, replacing it with sudden darkness. The moonlight that shone through the door-frame silhouetted three boney figures of men shambling into the cave dwelling.

Heavy breathing betrayed the location of the man inside, causing him to curse as he saw the sunken eyes of the first creature turn towards him in the darkness. Mumbles followed as even the moonlight in the doorway was blotted out suddenly before the framing was torn to splinters and the gaunt being was torn in two. A man's voice cackled with laughter from outside as furniture was being tossed towards the door frame inside the hovel. "Just give up! DIE! The nether will accept you just as your flesh will be accepted by these revenants! The conquest of your village is complete. Ilia has no more sons of the sword or winged daughters to protect this land! Etruria engulfs more day by day like a fire! Sacae has felt this wrath! The seas are corrupted! The world is slowly being devoured and yet you still scramble for these slabs of rock and ice like crumbs that have fallen from the tables of kings!"

SPOILER: Click to show

Two more revenants lumbered their bones towards the entrance as another crash was heard within. The man was dressed in fine white garments with Etruria's Holy Symbol of the Emperor on his back. His pale lips smiled wryly from under his hood that still exposed his hair as white as the snow around him. "So this is your refuge. What could possibly be hiding in that dusty hole which would be your last glimmering light of hope?" He smirked, using a thin walking stick to turn over a corpse that laid in his path. "Do you have any friends in there? Of course you don't. You've spent so much time in solitude that it has only served to weaken you. I've chased after you and your kind long enough to know. It's pathetic, really. I have a whole army at my back." He peeked inside, casting a magical light to illuminate the interior. There wasn't a trace of the man he spoke to, but the shack was almost turned inside out. "Are you still alive? You know you can't hide from an Inquisitor."

[Synkkis Kyyneltya]

SPOILER: Click to show

Heavy panting was heard from within the structure. A skull was tossed towards the Inquisitor who lazily avoided being struck by such a futile attempt at a toss. "This could be your grave, you know? Tucked away in these stones you admire so much… I think you’d enjoy it too much." The Inquisitor grimaced as his eyes adjusted to see the outlines of this home space. "I think it would annoy me too much. A public execution in Etruria would be perfect. Your bones would be on display for what happens to those who stand in front of the Prophet’s might." He then cackled as he snapped his fingers, piercing the darkness of the hovel with bright and intrusive light.

Synkkis, battle worn and wounded, had nearly an equal amount of redness in the whites of his eyes compared to his crimson pupils. The strain of using so much Elder magic at once was wearing on him. He cried out as his eyes burned from the light and he hid under his cloak. "Agh! How perverse! I have always had a great respect for light magic and its warm, inviting glow, but this is akin to a blue flame!" The Ilian shrunk against a cabinet, clutching his old tome in one hand and his cloak in the other. This only further made the Inquisitor laugh loudly at the Shaman.

"Heh. Hehe. Haha! Bwahahahaha! That’s right! Cower! Be afraid! Die knowing you lost to someone who knows the true way of the Prophet! His holy fire will burn through these mountains all the way to Edessa, cleansing the non-believers!" The Inquisitor shouted, gripping his fists tight, slamming one of them down on the table. He then realized the Shaman was murmuring from behind his cloak. Synkkis flung his purple cloak open, a ball of dark energy massing around the Inquisitor. "You! Agh!" the Etrurian let out an "urk" sound as his lungs were pushed in with his heart, the pressure immense on his ribs. However damaging, nothing collapsed or broke, though he was sure he had internal bleeding.

"You… do not dictate the terms to me!" He gasped as he kicked Synkkis in the thigh and then punching him across the jaw. "You still have fight in you!?" the Inquisitor shouted, lifting Synkkis up with his hand wrapped around his neck. He then whispered a silent prayer as a flash of light burnt across Synkkis’ stomach. The Shaman toppled over as the Inquisitor panted.

Two more figures stood in the door frame, but they were much more fleshed out than the gaunt figures from before. "Grab him. We should still have plenty of chains left over from those Revenants we expended. We need to get out of here before any Pegasus Knight patrols spot us." The Inquisitor started walking for the door as the two figures hastened towards the limp body of the Ilian Shaman. They wrapped him in a heavy blanket and secured him in chains at his throat and ankles. The three walked away from the dwelling, though the snow-haired Inquisitor looked around slowly, uneasy about their surroundings.

[Synkkis Kyyneltya]

Synkkis could feel a warmth take over him as he opened his eyes to see the sweets of a soft festival gingerbread cookie laying in his lap, half eaten. His younger brothers were clinging to him, wanting to show him something they found at another stand, though their hands were empty. "Syn, come to us!" they called out. It's been so long, the white haired eldest brother was having difficulty discerning their faces. Why were they so young? They then were hazily returned to how he remembered them not a year ago. Alaric, acting cool and smoking a slim cigar he had rolled himself. "Are we going to start drinking now or what? I'm already a few ales in!" Jost, the youngest, stood next to him also trying to play it cool. He was always seeking attention, though. "Hey, I get one too, right?" he asked, trying not to appear meek though his eyes betrayed his voice of bravado.

Synkkis stood upright, grasping for the treat in his lap, it now replaced with a heavier weight of a scythe. He remembered the heat as fire nearly missed his head. The flow of battle as men rushed across the snow, desperate to beat back the bandits. A certain cavalier rushed past, sword drawn. The shaman's heart beat fast as he clung to a cart nearby, feeling his legs go weak. 'I must command them! Their flank is exposed!' Synkkis screamed in his head, looking down at his legs as he fell to his knees.

Looking back up, he was kneeling for the Baron. The one that had kept him for so long. The old fool, he could see death in his face as the months went by. Every day the Baron became weaker, Synkkis became stronger. 'Jade... Where are you? You aren't by his side. We had committed ourselves for each other for when the Baron died, but that never came to be.'

His eyes welled with tears as he turned his head and wiped them away. He splashed his face with water from a creek on the steppe. That green-haired fellow with that no-compromise grin urged him to hurry and rejoin him. "Ah yes! Of course! I will... be right... there..." Synkkis called out, fading in enthusiasm as he thought of those uncertain times. Why live through such pain again? He had been at the top of the mountain as the Old God called to him. He felt the rush as battle painted the land with blood red snow. He had protected these mountains from Etrurian, Bandit, and Revenant alike. It was all he knew. The pain of this world was just a reminder of his duties to the Old Gods and to draw power from the Nether to act on their behalf.

--

Synkkis could feel his body sway back and forth as he slowly regained consciousness. He felt like he couldn't move though his face kept bumping into something cold. He sat more upright, covered in blankets yet with his wrists bound completely. There were three other folk in the cart with him, all as bundled up as he. The one in front of him on his left was a man who looked as haggard as Synkkis felt as he could feel his body fighting against every inch of movement. He had turned his gaze towards him as Synkkis' eyes sharpened to see the details of the world around him in that moment. "Hey! You! You're finally awake. You were who they set those Revenants upon, right? Walked right into that Etrurian ambush." the Ilian, as Synkkis could tell from his accent, called out to him. He saw another cart ahead of this one that had a large, but empty cage affixed to it. "That's where they had them locked up. Was truly a horrendous sight."

"Not nearly as bad as having them try to rip your guts out, no?" Synkkis smirked, almost laughing but feeling his ribs ache with pain at even the thought. His mouth was extremely viscous, so he spat out of the cart leaving a dark stain in the pure white snow. "So what was your misfortune to be in my company?" Synkkis asked, his whole existence feeling disgusting at the moment. It was also at this time that he could tell that his very comforting tomes and notebook were not at his sides. This made him worry and look around as to where they could possibly be.

"Being a witness. Under the armistice with Etruria, there shouldn't be any Etrurian soldiers, especially someone who looks to be acting for the Prophet himself to be on Ilian land." he explained, also trying to hide a look of worry on his face. Ilians were a hard folk or were supposed to be. Most true Ilians were dead or fighting for their existence in Bern if that conflict was still going on.

"If that madman is a Prophet then I'm a Dragon." Synkkis joked, honestly wishing he had the awesome power of what he saw in that Bernese Arena years back. That would solve a lot of problems for him right away, in fact. He looked at the other two lumps in the cart to see if they were stirring from the conversation.

[Lauren]

Ilia was NEVER her favorite place to be, and it was counted as enemy territory. But there was a mission of grave importance that drew her to it. The inquisition was the only authority that could police itself. And there were dark rumors around one of their number. They said he had gathered the dead under his control in some manner and that was a grave sin. His loyalty to Etruria and the prophet may have been unquestionable but his actions were far too twisted to ignore. His path was dark and so Interminor asked Lauren to investigate him. The problem though was that he journeyed into Ilia to conduct his work.

Lauren was angry at her fellow inquisitor. She was traversing the white cold north in order to pretend to be on his side. She needed to understand his methods to control the monsters, or however he was using them, and confirm why he was there taking such reckless actions. If he were to break down the armistice there could be no forgiveness. Her hope was that he would return quietly.

She did not have access to the inquisitors notes and did not know how he was hunting a young shaman or why he did it. She did not witness the shaman's rescue either but she did manage to find what came after. She didn't know what happened, and she had no frame of reference for the cart or the men in the distance carrying a man over their shoulder but she knew she was in the right place if nothing more. "Hold! What has happened here!?"