@Dad 76 Darkness settled over the city like a heavy blanket, shrouding the light in its heavy embrace and casting all but the brightest of lights into shadow. The streets were bare and deserted, nary a rodent daring to set foot outside their homes. Doors were locked and bolted, curtains drawn in fear of the night, those without the luxury of drapes making do with planks of wood and sheets of ply.
Fear. It surrounded the city, choking it in a tight noose that could not be escaped. It's cold hands had closed about the end of that rope, pulling hard and leaving the people to hang. None knew from whence the darkness came, the eternal night settled over Essryn for days. Any could enter, passing through the invisible wall thrown about the city in a perfect circle, but any who tried to leave were punished by a fate worse than death.
The screams still echoed throughout the dead city, tormenting those who hide within its walls, waiting for help, preying for a rescue. There was little they could do but prey, their last hope gone with the city guard's mangled corpses, thrown about the city in a freakish display of morbid pleasure. Essryn was dying, a slow painful death none could prevent. There was a dark magic and play in the desert city, a powerful entity playing a sadistic game with the powerless people.
What, then, would that power do, facing one who could negate its abilities?
Ignis Snow stood firmly in the middle of the deserted road leading into Essryn, one hand planted on his hip, the other resting on the dagger at his thigh. He stood just within the barrier, the invisible wall shimmering at his back, trying to push him the last few steps inside its hold. He refused to budge though, feet placed stolidly and back pushing against the wall. A slight flick of his hand towards the wall extended his negative ability, making the constant force at his back leave off, if only for a little while.
Crunching loudly on the nut he had been rolling between his teeth for the past few minutes, he strode forwards, unnaturally bright blue eyes taking in every detail of the streets around him, sharp ears catching the haunted wails that floated through the city like ghosts. "A real mess you've made of this city, whatever you are."
It weren't only souls that wailed their pitiful existence. Several undead roamed the streets, trying to find anything that may soothe the unending hunger they were afflicted with. Their fate was a pitiful one. Souls maddened by their forced stay on the physical realm, possessing anything that once lived to exact revenge. It was a mess, one that needed cleaning.
Iorciar stood in the middle of the street, facing a small mob of these undead. She let out a curt sigh, before dropping her hands down into a fighting pose. Her strength alone was enough to deal with these. And while shredding them to bits would be disrespectful, she'd much rather do that and let their soul pass on, instead of being respectful. Yet keeping the vessel bound to the spirit. It would only be torture for these creatures.
This was not her duty as a lorekeeper. She needed to preserve the knowledge of her clan by all means. Iorciar took a deep breath, she couldn't sit idly and watch this torment continue. The undead moved in, but were easily dispatched by a swift set of blows and scratches from her claws. Rending them to bits. It was then that she knelt down at the group, taking a small charm from her belt. A bright light erupted when Iorciar placed the charm against the ground, cleansing the spirits around her. "Be at peace, fallen ones," she murmured in a language that was harsh in itself. Dragon's speak, no doubt, before looking up at the light with a faint smile at her lips.
Seems like there won't be any sleep tonight.
The streets were empty, even further inside the city, the wind whistling through the narrow gaps between houses and blending with the soft moans and wails. Ignis moved through the seemingly empty city methodically, working his way towards the west end. After almost an hour of silence, the shuffle of undead feet met his ears, eerily bright blue eyes snapping about to find the source. A small group of tormented souls, ambling along the road away from him.
He reached back to draw the Harbinger blade from its sheath on his back, only to pause when the Haunted were literally ripped apart. He watched cautiously as a dark figure knelt down, a bright flash of light shimmering through the air and nearly blinding him. He hadn't realised how dark it was until he saw light again.
So, perhaps there are some who do not cower...
The woman pushed herself up to her feet again, before glancing over at Ignis. The footsteps she had heard behind her. They were more steady, rythmic. It wasn't the shuffling or limping of the undead. So she held herself back. For now.
She adjusted the scroll on her back, before resting her hand on her hip, taking a deep breath. "Who are you? What do you seek here?" She inquired, preserving the distance between the two.
Ignis kept his fingers right around Harbinger's hilt, not yet drawing the sword, but keeping ready. He ran an appraising gaze over the woman before speaking, shifting his weight slightly, "Ignis Snow. Mordecai." He answered her shortly, an uncomfortable tickle at the back of his neck alerting him to a fresh group of twisted, ambling corpses to their left. "And you?"
"A mordecai in Essryn?" She inquired with a frown. "A rogue? Or a wayward stray?" She shook her head. A mordecai could be an issue. She relied on her magic for most occasions. And if this man was an actual Mordecai soldier, she could have issues. For now, she would regard the man with distrust and wariness. But her name wouldn't matter either way. "Iorciar Daneth," she answered. "What does a Mordecai seek here?"
Ignis shrugged, drawing Harbinger from its sheath and resting the long, slim blade over his shoulder. "To leave," he started saying, before pausing and casting eerily bright blue eyes to the side, tracing the trio of undead as they shuffled towards the two humans, "Don't worry. I not here for you, and I don't give a crap about your magic-I assume that was magic?-either."
With that said, he turned on his heel to stride towards the three creatures, picking up a light jog as he got nearer to them before spinning on his heel swiftly, Harbinger swinging out to slice cleanly through rotted flesh and end the trio's suffering in one blow.
Iorciar glanced back at the souls. "It was. And I'm glad you do not wish for me to stop putting these souls to a peaceful slumber," she answered with a soft sigh.
"And I imagine leaving isn't all that easy. This is a curse. One too big to control for your aura," Iorciar stated, glancing up to the sky, before down at the zombies he had slain. She let out another soft breath and walked over, kneeling down next to the corpses, pressing her hand down again.
Ignis nodded, stepping back when she approached and watching as she put the souls to rest. His negative ability instantly reached out towards her, but he yanked it back with some effort, chaining it down mentally as he let out a terse breath. "No, it's not. You can get halfway through the barrier before it ejects you again." He revealed, slinging Harbinger back over his shoulder and shifting his gaze to scan the city.
"It seems we are both here for the same purpose; to purge the city," he looked back to meet her gaze, proffering his gloved right hand, "Partners?"
She was done with putting the souls to rest, listening to Ignis as he talked. Then she looked up to Ignis, clasping her hand into the man's. "For the time being. I have no qualms with Mordecai," her cold blue eyes crossed his. "I'd like to keep it that way."
Ignis quirked a sardonic grin as he gave her hand a single shake before dropping his back to his side, "You and me both." He replied simply, before swinging on his heels to look ahead. "I came from the south, cleared out the majority of the streets there, was hardly anyone around. I'm going to assume you've already been through this district?" He cast a glance over his shoulder, electrict blue watching her calmly.
At that, Iorciar couldn't help but frown. "You are a mordecai, but you are not affiliated with them, Snow?" She inquired, before looking at the remainder of the group she cleared up. "I have. Most souls here have been cleansed. Both the possessing ones and the wandering."
Ignis nodded at that, turning his gaze back ahead, "So I guess we work our way through the rest from here, then." He muttered, tapping the flat of his sword on his shoulder before he started walking, obviously expecting Iorciar to follow. "So what are you doing here, if I may ask? You don't exactly seem like a native."
"I am not," Iorciar answered, falling into step next to Ignis. "I was merely passing through. Resting when foul magics befell this place." She had no actual reason to be here. If anything, she hated Essryn, not for the heat or the sand. But for the slave emporium that was present in the entire city. And a woman of her stature, looks and race would make for a valuable slave.
Ignis nodded, though whether it was in agreement or acknowledgement it was hard to say. His own plans were probably similar to what the lore keeper had intended; a brief visit in Essryn before he continued on to Adela. To home. Letting out a soft sigh, Ignis mused that things like this always seemed to happen whenever he thought of returning to his family, maybe it was a sign? A small, slightly amused smirk twitched at his lips at that, before he shook his head and focused back on the task at hand.
"Do you happen to have an idea who caused this? Or where this started?" She inquired with a soft frown, before shaking her head, a soft groaning and wailing pulling her attention. "Perhaps.. We'll have to find a place we can talk undisturbed," she said with a soft sigh.
Ignis shook his head, a grim expression slipping onto his face, "I don't. But I know the strongest aura here is radiating from the centre of the city." He subtly shifted a hand to his right arm as he said that, a wince flashing across his face. It was quickly smothered when the undead made themselves known, a soft sigh breaking from his lips as he lifted Harbinger off his shoulder, "Perhaps."
"I sensed that as well," Iorciar answered with a soft snicker. "But I have the feeling we won't be able to reach it just yet," she let out a mirthless chuckle. "It would be too easy."
She clasped her hands behind her back, taking a deep breath. "Anyhow, when you're done, we should look for suitable shelter."
Ignis nodded and shot forwards, the blade flashing through the air in a split second, the undead wavering for several moments before dropping to the ground. Turning back to Iorciar, Ignis sighed again and sheathed the Harbinger on his back once more. Casting a quick glance around, his eyes alighted on a nearby inn, which he then nodded towards, "Try there."
Iorciar walked over to the in, putting her hand on the knob and trying to open it, ofcourse, to no avail.
With an annoyed click of her tongue, the half dragon took a step back and kicked the door in, through the furniture that was stacked to keep the undead out. "Not locked anymore," she murmured. A gesture towards Ignis for him to enter.
She looked at the frightened people inside, glancing across the room. A strong scent hit her, bodily fluids, sweat. But most of all. Fear. She sneezed softly and turned back to the door, muttering a soft incantation under her breath after Ignis stepped inside.
And the entrance froze over in a massive sheet of ice.
Ignis raised an eyebrow at the sheer ice wall that covered the door, blocking out the frieghtened sounds and the less than pleasant odours in the inn expertly. "Effective." He muttered, tapping the ice experimentally and nodding his approval before he turned back to the people clustered inside the building.
"We're not here to hurt you." He said firmly, eyes hard as they raked over the men, women, and a few children clutched tightly in their mothers' arms. "We just need somewhere safe to stay for a short while."
Iorciar glanced at Ignis and huffed softly, before examining the poor folks inside the tavern. Then her eyes passed a woman that was on the table, bleeding and muttering nonsense. She glanced at Ignis again, before rushing to the woman's side, inspecting the wounds.
She hummed under her breath and placed her hand on the wound, before pressing down on it harshly, her hand sinking inside. The woman doubled up and screamed her throat ragged, before being pushed down by Iorciar again. Who seemed very busy in stirring around in the wound. The people looked at her with horrified expressions. But she seemed inquisitive. And focussed.
As if it was majorly important.
Ignis frowned, moving over to stand at her side beside the woman. Placing a hand on her forehead, he quietly shushed her, a soft white light managing to escape the dark fabric of his right sleeve and glove as the woman abruptly stopped squirming, falling back on th table bonelessly. That done, he turned bright blue eyes towards the wound, raising a single platinum brow at Iorciar. "What is it? I assume there's a reason your digging around in it. The demon causing this, perhaps?"
"Got it," she murmured, before pulling out a small crystal. It was completely black in texture. But it hummed with a dark, red energy. She passed it over to Ignis, before leaning over the woman's face, softly pressing her hands on the wound, pressing a soft, apologetic kiss on her cheek. "Ssh," she murmured. "I'm so sorry," she stated, her hands humming with a soft, yellow light. The wound slowly started to close again.
Ignis took the crystal gingerly, turning it over in his hands with a frown as he glanced between it and Iorciar. His arm hummed with a soft sound whenever the crystal touched his right hand, tendrils of misty white pulling towards the dark energy.
"What manner of demon is this." He murmured softly, raising his gaze to the horrified Essryni all around them, sighing softly at that. While he understood her motives, Iorciar could have been a little more subtle about her actions. "Don't worry, she'll be fine," He attempted to reassure them, muttering more to himself than anyone afterwards, "Now that this is free."
"Dread demon," Iorciar answered easily, still tending to the woman. "They feed off feelings of fear, dread and discomfort.. They're quite powerful," she pointed at the crystal. "That's what the aura tells me," she took a deep breath. "Though I have no idea what purpose it serves."
Ignis hummed thoughtfully at that, turning the crystal over in his hand, "I thought as much. There are few demons who can ensconce away with a whole bloody city." He replied steadily, looking over to the woman and her patient, if that was even the right word, "Will she survive?"
"She will now," Iorciar answered, resting her clean hand on the woman's head, leaning in to murmur consoling nonsense towards her. And slowly, with magic, lulling her to sleep. It was odd to see a woman like her. Stern, cold and vicious at times, being so warm and caring as a healer. Moreso than other healers even.
As the woman nodded off in a deep, rather relaxed sleep, breathing very deep and rythmic, Iorciar stood up again. Regarding Ignis with the same cold look reserved for everyone. "Any ideas?" She looked around the tavern. "Does anyone here know what happened?"
Ignis nodded at that, satisfied with her answer. He turned to the frieghtened people as well, eerily bright eyes scanning over them critically. Each and every person hidden within the walls of the tavern reeked of fear, the taste of it salting the air, leaving a foul odour that mingled with blood, sweat, and the general filth of the human race. Much and all as he understood their terror, they were powerless here, magicless and without gope of reinforcements, he didn't have to accept that this was all humans were capable of.
Sniffing in a sightly off-put manner, he folded his arms over his chest, a displeased frown pulling at his brow and creating a generally intimidsting aura. "You heard her. Anybody in here know anything at all about what happened here."
Silence. God he hated the human race sometimes
She shook her head. So it seemed like none knew. Or none was willing to tell. The dragon pushed herself up and slowly cracked a yawn. Gods. She was exhausted.
She glanced around at the people and shook her head, walking to the middle of the room. Before pressing her hand on the floor. The thick ice on the door growing to envelop the entire inn. "I'm going to sleep," she stated as she got to her feet again, turning around to ascend the stairs.
Ignis raised an eyebrow at that, glancing out through the cracks in the boarded up windows to see the ice now encasing everything in a thick, protective shield. It wasn't very covert, but by this point they were either going to get attacked, or not. Ice or no ice. Shaking his head, he ran one last glance over the people inside the inn before turning on his heel and following Iorciar up the staircase. Luckily enough, the people seemed to think downstairs were safest, leaving the upper area mostly clear of people. Heading for the chair leant in the corner, directly across from the stairs and beside a somewhat clear window, Ignis sat down heavily, unbuckling the sheath of Harbinger and laying it across his knee.
He waved a hand at Iorciar, gesturing towards one of the rooms, "Go sleep. I'll take first watch."
Iorciar cracked a bemused chuckle at Ignis' offer, shaking her head as she rested her pale hand on one of the doorknobs. "Why keep watch when we are encased in true ice? Why keep watch when my arcane presence envelops the building?" It seemed more than obvious to her that Ignis knew exactly what true ice was. Or what it meant surrounding the building. Keeping watch seemed such a needless bother.
With another shake of her head and a soft chuckle, she pushed open the door and stepped in. Failing to give any further explanation.
Ignis shook his head and leaned back in his chair, running a hand down Harbinger's sheath absently. It may have been true ice, but he had learnt never to trust anything when demons and other creatures of dark origin were about. Such carelessness cost many their lives. He said nothing, though, instead settling into his chosen place of rest and propping his chin on his fist. Sleep would not come with the darkness that surrounded them, not yet, so he prepared himself for a long night of waiting and watching.
It seemed the dragon lady was quite content with sleeping as she did. Though the odd thing was that she barely seemed to breath, a small trail of condensed air coming from her lips every few seconds. It was steady, but barely there.
And, as promised. Not even once did the ice thaw or do as much as crack. A few minutes before the sun would rise, given this vile darkness it was impossible, Iorciar sat up with a soft yawn, pushing herself up. And without saying much, she made her way down the stairs.
As he had predicted, Ignis barely slept that night. The majority of the twilight hours were spent in the old chair, watching the ice wall outside the window and catching fleeting glimpses of dark shadows moving beyond the thick wall. Come morning, though, he descended to the floor below, moving through the people huddled in groups on the ground floor. Some slept restlessly, pressed together for warm and comfort both, while other sat, wide eyed and afraid, holding their young close and their lips sealed.
Hearing the footsteps from above, the wanderer turned away from the frozen over window downstairs to meet Iorciar's gaze as she descended, his expression unreadable. "Well rested?" He asked, not that he cared either way, but the silence had been slowly whittling away at his sanity for the last four hours, at least. Any conversation would be better than none.