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To Kill a Mage (Minfeveer)

Started by HighLordMhoram, July 30, 2017, 04:54:26 AM

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HighLordMhoram

Graven made his way down the halls to the specially prepared room he kept for just these occasions. He didn't enjoy what he was about to do, but it was a necessary thing for his survival. He approached another door, flanked by two of his men, and passed through without a word. Inside was a bound, unconscious man.

He was clearly a soldier, as evidenced by his uniform. He must have been one of the ones who had attacked Graven yesterday. He hadn't realized his men had managed to capture one alive. He stepped further into the room, knowing that Orson was right behind him. Neither of them spoke; this scene wasn't new to them. Graven approached the man, knelt, and drew his knife.

All it took was to pierce the man's skin at his shoulder, drawing just the tiniest bit of blood, and Graven began to feel the man's life energy flow into him. The soldier was young, late twenties at the most, and the energy in his body would be able to sustain Graven for at least half a century. His body sang as it fed upon the victim's life force, gobbling it up bit by slow bit. It felt good, as always. It felt as though some strength he had never known was being tapped into, some hidden reserves uncovered. Despite his exhausting day, he felt refreshed and young. The only thing that kept him from grinning at the sensation was the sight of the man he was killing to get it.

Minfever

Fawn slipped into the room with them, and in horror she watched as Graven began to drain the life force from a young soldier.  The change in Graven was palpable, the sheer euphoria he felt emanated from him.  So, this was how he kept himself young, alive.  Why?  Why did he have to take the lives of others to keep himself young?  What was this obsession with youth that he had?

Solemnly, she stepped out of the room and returned to their chambers.  Her heart was pounding with the anxiety of the moment.  She slipped onto the bed and shifted back to her former self, a look of pain visible in her features.  As she sat on the bed she brought the blankets to her chest, just under her chin, and awaited his return.  She would have many questions for him upon his return, and she would make certain he would give her answers.

(Sorry it's so short, I'm trying to type and focus with distractions around me lol)

HighLordMhoram

(No problem, I totally understand.)

When Graven was done, he sheathed his knife and told Orson to dump the man's body at the base of the mountain with the others. If anyone cared about them, their relatives could go collect their remains and give them a proper burial. If not, then their bones would serve as a warning to other would-be mage killers. That job done, new power singing in his veins, he made his way back to his room.

Despite the reflexive exhilaration that came from absorbing life energy, his expression was haggard and drawn as he reentered his room. He crossed to the washbasin, splashed cold water on his face, and dunked his head into the water without looking once at Fawn. When he resurfaced, her shook his head, sending droplets of water everywhere. Finally, he turned back to Fawn, and the look in her eyes was all he needed to see that she knew what he had done. He didn't think she'd followed him, of course; she could have simply deduced what he was doing through logic if she had to. "I see you have questions," he said flatly, somewhat coldly. It was jarring to hear that tone, when just a few minutes ago he had been so warm and even kind. "Ask them."

Minfever

Fawn was struck by the apathy in his voice, as if she meant nothing to him suddenly.  She could tell there was a storm of emotions inside of him and it comforted her to know that he at least wasn't pleased with himself.  She felt sorry for him, somehow, though she saw what he did as purely evil, but that was why she had her questions.

She brought her head up from its downcast position and watched him for a long while without saying a word.  The silence was deafening as all she could hear was her own heartbeat.  What was wrong with her?  Why did she feel so confused suddenly, as if her morals could be skewed in the presence of this man.  She should hate what he did, hate him for it, but all she could see in his face was pain.

She rose letting the blanket drop and walked toward him deftly, without a sound.  She rose her hand to his cheek and pushed a lock of blonde hair behind his ear.

"Why do you do it?" her voice a gentle whisper.

There was no use in pretending she didn't know.  He would make his own assumptions about how she surmised it, but it didn't matter now.  She knew, and she needed to know that there was a good reason behind what he did.  She needed to know his actions were justified.

HighLordMhoram

Graven clenched his jaw and looked away from her. That wasn't enough; she was still too close for him to think clearly. He turned away from her and strode over to the door, only to turn back and face her again. "Why? So I could live. Why else? Do you think I live in the mountains by choice? Do you think I don't need my once-dead to defend me from mage hunters who come prowling up here under Church orders? It takes an unbelievable amount of energy to sustain my men. Some of it I get from animals, like the deer we ate in the stew last night. Most of it I take from men who came up here to kill me. Men who would be dead anyways. Men who deserve to be dead."

Without realizing it, he had raised his voice until he was half-shouting. He dug his nails into his palms and forced himself to relax. "I'm not proud of what I do, but I'm not ashamed of it, either. I do what I have to."

Minfever

Fawn stood watching him from across the room.  He was poised to leave, it seemed.  She hoped he wouldn't.  She needed to understand more of what kept him in this cycle of death.  She didn't try to step toward him this time, allowing him the space he so clearly needed.  She needed space, too.  She was beginning to worry that her judgment was being shrouded in feelings, and this wasn't something she was accustomed to during a job.  More often than not the people she was assigned to kill were people far more horrible than he, with malice in their hearts.  She had seen a bit of his heart, and she couldn't be convinced that he was like all the rest.

She suddenly felt small, standing like a child across from him, naked, seemingly defenseless.  She wondered if her prying would anger him further, if he would close himself off to her.  He didn't realize what was at stake if he couldn't make her understand.  They had only known each other a few hours, but had known each other so deeply even still.  She couldn't blame him if her questions infuriated him.  She just needed him to let her in, to let her touch the part of him he kept hidden.

"Graven... please try to understand how all of this is foreign to me.  I've never encountered anyone like you, ever."

One of her hands went to play with the ends of her hair just above her breast.

"Why can't you leave the mountains?  I could help you leave."

She desperately wanted to reach for him, to touch him, but she remained still, unsure of what he needed at that moment.

HighLordMhoram

She didn't seem angry or disgusted by him, but somehow her pity was even worse. Graven looked away, fists clenching and unclenching as if he wanted to hit something. Instead, he rasped, "Where would I go? Serendipity? Essyrn? Where in the world would accept a man who raises the dead and steals the very life from peoples' bodies? At best, I'd be a pariah. At worst, I'd be hunted the same as I am here."

His voice turned softer, but somehow more firm. "In any case, Connlaoth is my homeland. I haven't gone beyond its borders in all my life, and I'll be damned if I let the Church push me out." He seemed...deflated, somehow, as if venting his anger and frustration had weakened him. "If you want to leave, I won't stop you," he said. "But I won't go with you. When the Church does manage to finally kill me, I want to die on Connlaothan soil."

Minfever

So, he would choose this as his fate.  He was stubborn.  Born a Connlaothian and a Connlaothian he would stay.  What he said made sense to her, however, and she understood the predicament his path in life had led him to.  He was right.  Wherever he went, unless by some miracle it would be different, he would be a pariah at the very least.  He would always be considered a monster, wherever he went, despite how hard he might try.  And if Fawn could relate to anyone, it was a person stripped of their dignity and good name.  She had a choice to make, and she didn't have much time.  She could reveal herself to him and risk never seeing him again, possibly risking her own death, or she could follow through.  If she didn't make her choice within the next few days, they would attack again, coming after her as well as him.

Suddenly, her heart tightened at the prospect of losing her opportunity to know him, to explore the emotions surrounding him that had begun to bloom within her, and the prospect of betraying him.  That was what this had become, had it not?  Betrayal.  Now, she regretted more than anything having ever signed the contract to destroy this monster in the hills.  At first, it had seemed so simple.  All she had known about him before they met was a tale of exaggerated evil.  She could understand the people of Connlaoth exaggerating out of lack of understanding.  She could forgive them, to some degree, for their ignorance.  But could she forgive herself?  Had she been steeped in the sick of her treacherous profession for so long that she had lost her moral compass?

If she didn't tell him, the people of Connlaoth would grow suspicious and begin attacking again, as they had when she first met him.  Now, it seemed that in order to save his life she had to give up her own to him.  A feeling of apathy swam through her. It didn't matter, anyway, did it?  She was destined to have a short life with the choices she had made.  The world would be better off without her, she imagined.  So, what did it matter if he chose to kill her or exile her?  She would lose him or her life, there was no other choice.

So, with the momentary resolve she could muster, Fawn took a few steps forward and extended a hand out toward Graven.

"Thank you for sharing what you have with me.  I think I understand now.  I owe you my honesty, in return."

(By the way, I changed how her natural form looks, so if it doesn't match the original description that's why)

Fawn had always been self-conscious about her original form, and it showed in her face.  Her eyes were dewy with tears that threatened to spill over, and her face was downcast, solemn.  The body he had known so intimately just an hour or so ago began to change.  The curves and slender nature of her body remained the same, but her skin began to pale to become more porcelain, her dark blue eyes changed to an oceanic light blue reflecting the light around her to give them the appearance of having flecks of diamonds in them, her hair curled and lightened dramatically to an almost white pale blonde.  Somehow, she had become even more extraordinarily beautiful.

She awaited his hand to take hers, uncertain if he would.

"As you said before, I've been holding out on you.  I'm a changeling, a shape-shifter, and this...." she paused, embarrassed, "This is truly me."

He didn't know it, but he had been given a rare gift in seeing her this way.  Never had she revealed her true form to anyone.  This was a sacrifice for her, and it made it clear to her how much she felt for this man to be willing to bare herself entirely before him.  It frightened her, to have felt so much so quickly, but there was something magnetic about him that she couldn't fathom.  If only he knew how much he had changed her in such a short time.

HighLordMhoram

Graven took a step back in shock as Fawn began to change. It was over almost before he had time to register what was happening, and then there she stood, pale-haired and blue-eyed, looking at him with mingled embarrassment and nervousness.

Betrayal. That was the first, instinctive reaction Graven had to her revealing of her true self. The girl had come into his home under a disguise, perhaps even under a false name. In a way, she had abused his trust. But then again, he didn't exactly have a reputation for being trustworthy. Perhaps she thought it was the only way to stay alive once she was found.

And although she had abused his trust, he had also given him her trust, in all the ways that mattered. She had revealed that she could use magic, a secret which could mean her death in Connlaoth. She had trusted him not to hurt her, seeing past the terrifying myths he had built up over the years. She had looked past his exterior and seen who he was inside...and accepted it.

So he accepted her, too. After a moment of hesitation, he reached out and grasped her hand. "You know," he said softly, "Between the two of us, I'm not sure which was hiding more from the other. It's almost like we're in a competition."

Minfever

Fawn's heart sank as she listened to him speak in a soft, low tone.  He could forgive her now, for the disguise she had worn, but would he forgive the rest of what she was about to tell him?

"Graven..." she squeezed his hand gently and then pulled it away, "Graven, there's more."

She felt as though she might swallow her tongue, and a tear fell down her cheek, disappearing at the corner of her mouth.

"I want you to know that, no matter what I tell you, my feelings changed almost from the moment I met you.  I don't do this work nonchalantly.  I choose every job very carefully, and try my best to judge whether the contract is in the best interests of the people around me.  When they told me about you, they only told me the myths surrounding your existence.  I was a fool to believe them.  Maybe I was arrogant enough to believe that I knew what was true and what wasn't.  I thought you were an evil man terrorizing the city.  Now, I know better."

She allowed her words to sink in before she continued, and she swallowed so hard it was almost audible, "I signed a contract as a blade for hire, and you were my target."

There it was.  The truth.  The uncomfortable glaring reality of her mistake.  She hoped he would let her go on, let her explain further....

"The moment I met you, a part of me subconsciously knew what I had been told was incorrect.  The more you explained, the more I realized what a mistake I had made.  I'm telling you this, Graven, because I care for you, and because you're in danger.  If I don't bring back proof that you're dead in a couple of days, they'll attack again, and not on schedule.  They'll attack until they have no more men or women to spare.  They're desperate, Graven, and with their desperation has come irrational decisions.  Do what you want with me, but be forewarned that they're coming, and they're coming in mass."

HighLordMhoram

At her revelation, Graven's blood ran cold. She was sent here to kill him? Another attack was coming, and so soon? His hand fell from hers, and he took a step back, his mind racing. He thought back, reevaluating everything Fawn had said and done over the past day. Had it all been a trick? A ruse? But then why had she come forward with this information? Did she truly care for him, or was this just another layer of treachery?

"I..." After a moment if hesitation, he made his decision. "Orson!" The once-dead appeared in the doorway at once. Graven turned away from Fawn and said, "Imprison her in the sacrificial chamber until I figure out what to do with her." He did not intend to drain her--did not even consider it--but that chamber was the most secure and the easiest to guard in the caves. "Post a guard on her at all times, and prepare the men. We may be having company sooner than expected."

Orson complied immediately, striding up to Fawn and seizing her by the arm. Unless she was foolish enough to resist, he would begin escorting her to her new cell. "And I don't want her harmed!" Graven shouted over his shoulder as she was dragged away.

Minfever

It was as she expected.  And how could she blame him?  There was absolutely no reason to trust her, and even if he was considering it, how could he?  How could he believe she cared for him in the face of her treachery?  But then, the most miniscule part of her had hoped... had believed, even... that he might take her at her word.  But that was foolish.

The rope that bound her hands smarted as Orson, almost in vengeance, bound them tighter than was necessary.  She also couldn't blame him, but a look of indignation crossed her face as he yanked her from where she stood.  She'd never felt so humiliated in her life.  There she was, exposed in her natural form for the first time in... over a decade, and she remained unclothed as they took her from the chamber.  Part of her wanted to use her invisibility spell, even though it wouldn't aid her in escaping.  Though, she would, if at all possible, escape.  She would at least try.  Her ability to seemingly disappear was something they did not know, and she had been careful not to unveil all of the cards up her sleeves.

As she passed Graven she kept her head pointed straight ahead, unable to meet his gaze.  He wasn't turned to look at her anyway, but to salvage what was left of her dignity she held her head high.  That was what she'd done all of her life when things went sour.  She had always desperately clung to the little bit of pride that existed within her to survive.  Whether it was a botched job, or being caught red handed thieving, or any other myriad of things that could go wrong, she always clung to that little bit of pride that let her move on and learn from her mistakes, and helped her to quickly turn the situation around to her favor.  This time, though, she knew there was very little chance of winning back trust that had been so quickly demolished.

A pang of fear, though a light pang as it would be with anyone who had faced death before, struck her chest at his mention of the sacrificial chamber.  He hadn't said he would drain her, but he hadn't said he wouldn't either.  If that was to be her fate, then so be it, but she wouldn't go without a fight.  She had been honest when she said that her magical knowledge was limited, but she had fibbed about how limited it was.  A smaller piece of her almost wanted to give in and let him kill her.  The men and women that were coming to attack were going to be after her, too, once the Church realized she hadn't followed through with her deal.  The death he would give her might be a merciful one compared to being torn to shreds.

As they reached the cell, she was pushed inside and guarded.  She didn't have a lot of options as her guards faced her, again, humiliating her by their very presence as she sat naked before them.  She curled her legs to her chest and leaned her head into her arms as they folded over her knees.  She would think of something to escape, if he was going to kill her.  If he didn't plan to, she hoped she could make him conscious of how much she cared for him.

HighLordMhoram

Only a moment passed before another guard entered the room bearing a pair of trousers and a shirt. He approached Fawn, dropped the clothes at her feet, and undid her bonds. Then he left as abruptly as he had come. The two remaining guards watched her dispassionately, not a hint of lust or desire in their flat expressions. Outside of the chamber, she could hear the others preparing for battle.

Graven's force had four muskets and two pistols; he ordered them to be handed out to his best sharpshooters. The remaining five men, including Orson, received short swords and daggers. He spent the better part of half a day discussing strategy with Orson. Two gunners and three swordsmen would wait on a ridge nearby and lure the enemy up when they arrived. Then the rest would burst from the cave and attack them in the rear. With luck, they would break immediately. That was the best plan they could come up with at short notice, but hopefully they wouldn't be attacked for the next couple of days and would be able to refine it. After the strategy was laid out, there was nothing else for Graven to do but go see Fawn.

But he couldn't. Not right now. Instead he went back to his room and began sharpening his dagger, struggling to remain composed. He didn't want to confront her today. tomorrow, if they hadn't yet been attacked, he would find the courage to speak to her. But for now, he sat and sharpened his knife and stewed on all he had learned.

Minfever

The day passed uneventfully for Fawn, but she could hear within the walls of the cave that the men were preparing for battle.  She had told him everything she could, but she hoped she had impressed upon him just how many mordecai and adhara were going to come.  She shrank into herself when she thought of him possibly being outnumbered, and she wished that she could have told him sooner, but it wouldn't have mattered.  It was impossible for her to have warned him any earlier than she had, and she had given him the best chance that she could at developing a defense strategy.

The second night came without word from Graven.  He was thinking, she imagined.  He was struggling with what to do with her, uncertain of how severe her punishment should be, uncertain of her.  Fawn managed to will herself to sleep, though it took some hours into the early morning.  It was a disrupted sleep.  Fawn felt herself drift in and out of wakefulness, illogical visions and memories filling her mind.  Just at the crack of dawn she awoke in a cold sweat from a nightmarish dream, crying out in terror, waking herself as her body thrust her into a sitting position.  She breathed heavily as the realization that it was another one of her reoccurring nightmares washed over her.  Nightmares had plagued her since childhood, but they had evolved over the course of her short life.  When she had begun her assassin career her nightmares became more like night terrors, reminding her of the soulless murdering she was capable of.  Even telling herself that she was a sort of vigilante had never had an impact on her innermost feelings about what she did for a living.  Maybe she was really not meant for this kind of thing, but then, her skill as an assassin told her otherwise.  It was a contradiction of heart versus will, and this was what made for the worst of nightmares.

HighLordMhoram

"Are you alright?" Graven sat cross legged on the floor in front of her, a dagger in his lap and a polishing cloth on the floor beside him. "Sounds like you had something of a night terror." His face and expression were kept carefully neutral. He didn't want to let her see his true feelings just yet. He didn't want to give her anything more to manipulate.

"I'm in a bit of a situation now, as you might have guessed," he continued in a dry tone. "Your presence here poses a bit of difficulty for me. What am I supposed to do with you? If I leave you imprisoned here, I'll have to keep at least one man back to guard you, and I need everyone in the coming battle. But if I let you go, then you could go to the enemy and tell them where this place is. I can't afford to risk either of those possibilities." He got to his feet, the dagger clenched in his right hand. He took a breath to steady himself; what he was about to do might come back to haunt him for the rest of his life, but he was going to do it. He had no other choice.

"So, there's only one option left." He let silence linger for a moment, which was uncharacteristic of him. He didn't usually tend towards dramatics. Perhaps he was simply punishing her by making her wait for his decision. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he tossed the dagger to Fawn. "You're going to have to fight with us. That way, I can keep an eye on you." He indicated the dagger he had just gifted her. "I worked on it last night, preparing it for you. It should be a decent enough focus, for today at least." The blade of the dagger had been decorated with ornate patterns etched into the metal, specifically designed to direct the flow of her magic. Its polished blade gleamed her reflection back at her, clear and unbiased.

Minfever

As her vision cleared from the nightmare and she began to pick up the details of her surroundings she saw Graven sitting, polishing a blade across from her.  A quick intake of breath could be heard from her at the shock of his presence.  He was foreboding in his manner.  It sent a chill through her partially due to intimidation and partially due to the sick thrill it gave her to see him in such control of himself, emanating powerful presence.  She wanted him, suddenly.  A heat rose from her neck to her cheeks, but she remained expressionless to him.  And then, he began to speak. 

For a moment, she thought that was it.  He had grown cold to her and in his vengeance had decided to destroy her.  As the silence permeated the room she sat perfectly still, no expression of fear or cowardice.  If she was to go, she would not go without some sliver of her dignity.  But then, he threw the dagger to the floor before her and it chimed against the stone floor.

She was astonished.  He had fashioned a blade for her, a focus, to wield in the fight against the Church.  Interrupting her stoicism she took a deep breath and lent a hand carefully down to the hilt of the dagger.  The moment she touched it an electric pulse ran from her arm down to her hand, proving that the focus had been well made.  It took to her as if it were an extension of herself.  Despite his feelings toward her, she was grateful for this gift.  He had honed the blade himself, and it touched her.  She wondered at why he had decided to spare her life.  If she had been in his place, that might've been the only option on her mind, but instead, he gave her the opportunity to fight at his side.  Perhaps, she would be able to prove herself trustworthy, perhaps not, but she wouldn't pass up the opportunity.

Her eyes hadn't met his the entire duration of their meeting together, until at last, she lifted them to his.  She saw nothing there.  Apathy.  And she remained emotionless save for her guilt, gazing into him, taking in the moment.  Then, she cast her eyes downward toward the blade again and gripped the hilt, feeling its perfect weight and measurement.

"I will fight for you." she finally spoke in a hushed tone, "I had hoped I might help you, somehow."

She knew the words would mean nothing to him, but they were the truth, and at this point she had no choice but to bare the truth.

HighLordMhoram

Her words touched Graven's heart, but he let none of his true feelings show on his face as he turned away from her. "Come on, then. My scouts reported that they're already on their way."

A short time later...

The Connlaothan force made its way cautiously up the side of the mountain. There were perhaps fifty of them in all, nearly five times the number of Graven's force, and besides some light skirmishing near the base of the mountain they had so far gone uncontested. There were seven mordecai in the group, their presence evident by their different uniforms. All of them bore rifles with bayonets, and all of them had the look of military veterans. Graven, Fawn, and the four men with them could hear their bootsteps as they marched by the cave entrance, which was low enough that it had avoided detection for the moment. When half the column had passed the entrance, there was suddenly an eruption of musket fire and the sound of screaming. Orson and the other five once-dead, positioned outside on a ridge opposite the cave entrance, had unleashed their ambush.

The Connlathons wheeled, knelt, aimed, and fire, but Orson's squad had ducked back behind the rocks for cover, and none of them were hurt. With a hoarse cry, the commander ordered his troops to push forward and take their position. Graven waited until he heard their bootsteps marching away, then turned to his squad. "Try to kill their mordecai first," he said to all of them, but keeping his gaze on Fawn. "We won't be doing any magic until they're dead. And remember, if things get bad, retreat and try to draw them into the caves. Good luck." With that, he led the way as his squad crawled through the low entrance and assaulted the Connlaothan rear.

Graven set his sights on a mordecai, a huge man with broad shoulders, and aimed his pistol. The two others with firearms in his squad picked their own targets, and they fired as one. Two mordecai fell to the ground, while a third gripped his arm and howled in pain. The other soldiers in the rear ranks whirled, eyes wide at the surprise attack. Graven dropped his pistol, pulled his knife, and led the charge into the enemy.

Minfever

Four mordecai left, Fawn thought.  This should be easy enough.

She kept pace with Graven and the men as they approached the opposition.  She had shifted back to her dark haired form to keep her anonymity.  The Connlaothians were large men indeed, alert and wild eyed with intent to kill.  Fawn could tell there was more to this than a simple battle in the minds of these Connlaothians; they were here to finish Graven, and they would stop at nothing to accomplish their task.  Size was never a problem for Fawn, however, as an assassin relies on cunning rather than strength to take down their enemies.  This was the mindset Fawn put herself in as they approached the rear.  Without word, she parted from Graven and the men and began to slip between trees and foliage, camouflaging herself within her natural surroundings.

She set her sights on a nearby mordecai who was making his way swiftly toward Graven and his once-dead.  Allowing the mordecai to approach them, Fawn followed him silently until she was able to slip out from behind a tree adjacent to him and pounced, slicing open his throat.  He didn't even have a chance to let out a cry before he was suffocating on his own blood and fell to the ground.  Fawn wiped her blade clean on the man's tunic and pulled back.  She reeled around to catch the arm of another mordecai who had spotted her and plunged her blade into his heart, letting him slide off of her blade as he fell.

Two down, two to go, she thought, and readied herself to defend against the onslaught of men surrounding Graven, herself and his men.

HighLordMhoram

Unfortunately, the enemy commander realized quickly what their intention was. At his order, the two remaining mordecai, a man and a woman, were surrounded by six other soldiers. There were about forty Connlaothans left now. Twenty split off to go assault Orson's position, while the twelve not guarding the mordecai charged Graven's five men. An all-out melee ensued. A once-dead was impaled on a Connlaothan musket but, in his fervor, dragged the blade deeper into his belly until he was able to reach the soldier holding the musket and stab him in the neck. Two more soldiers unleashed a volley into him from close range, blowing his head off, and the battle raged on.

Graven ducked a jab from a bayonet and surged forward, burying his dagger in the ribs of his attacker. A motion out of the corner of his eyes alerted him to an attack from behind, and he twisted his body, barely avoiding a second bayonet, which then buried itself in the first soldier's throat. Graven grabbed the musket barrel, jerked on it to drag the second man closer, and finished him off with a quick slash of his throat. He looked around desperately for Fawn, but he didn't see her. He did see a dead mordecai a short distance from the main battle, which was a strong indicator that she was still alive, but he had no time to think more on that before he was assaulted again. If only the mordecai weren't still alive, he might be able to raise more dead to help him here. But they were too heavily guarded, and not participating in the fight at all, simply watching as Graven's men were slowly cut down.

Bodies fell and blood an across the gray stone of the mountain as the fighting continued. Graven and his remaining two men were gradually forced into a defensive semi-circle, assaulted by the seven surviving Connlaothans and cut off from the cave. Graven panted heavily as he barely managed to deflect a jab from a soldier with his forearm, his knife to short to allow him to retaliate. His shoulder had been wounded somewhere in the fighting, he hadn't noticed when, and now it bled profusely. Up above, the sounds of battle and the crack of musket fire had ceased, and eleven Connlaothans were coming down from the position Orson had held. Seeing that the battle was almost done, the commander ordered the six people guarding the mordecai forward to make the final push, leaving the two nullifiers unguarded. Unfortunately, none of the Connlaothans had managed to keep track of Fawn.

Minfever

(I'm no good at fight scenes so be kind lol)

The fight was bloody, the mangled bodies of the Connlaothians strewn about, one on top of the other, a mess of entrails.  Fawn had been stealthily picking off Connlaothians one by one from within her camouflaging surroundings.  It wasn't until an eerie quiet descended upon them leaving nothing but the sound of the labored breathing of both the Connlaothian men and Graven and his once-dead that she realized the peril Graven was in.  They were surrounded with very little to defend themselves with, but the Connlaothians had lost track of Fawn.  She was their only chance out of this.

She made her way through the trees and amidst the rocky terrain to reach the now unguarded Mordecai.  With her blade singing, she came up behind one of the Mordecai and slit his throat, using her other hand to embed her other dagger into the neck of the Mordecai beside him.  They both fell in unison, and with that, Fawn's image disappeared.

As soon as the Commander saw Fawn she was gone, having shifted to become invisible.  The Connlaothians were suddenly panicked as from the trees came a launching of arrows, one soaring behind the other, and several of the men fell with arrows to their heads.  There were now eight Connlaothians left, not including the Commander, who ordered his men to turn their muskets to the trees.  A spray of bullets entered the atmosphere and aimed toward the trees.  There was a sound, almost inaudible to the ears, like a bullet had found purchase in flesh, but no cry was heard and Fawn made no movements.  The rest of the bullets were lost in the terrain behind her.  The Connlaothians still surrounding Graven and his two men aimed to fire once again, but Fawn had already left the trees at that point.  Despite her pain she had leaped from her hiding place and landed softly on the ground without a sound.

She stood and silently approached the Commander from behind.  He suddenly arched and his jaw dropped as she drove her blade into the curve of his back and sent a wave of electricity through his body, letting his body writhe and then slide away from the blade Graven had fashioned.  The Commander fell to the ground and the Connlaothian men were now on their own.

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