Laurel Crown - Act 2, The Hive

[Wayfarer]

"It do be a fools thing not to be bearing a sword tonight, Stavros."

 

Looking at Kalos Melanoaos, the Queen's last Companion, Con shook his head at the gruff elder.  The man had been working on him for weeks to take up the sword in preparation for tonight, and to test him for that matter, but Con had refused everytime.  When he'd made his oath to never wield a sword again he had meant it, he was done with killing.  Once he made an oath he intended to keep to it, on the otherhand he wouldn't send others to fight in his stead.  He was responsible for his men, he would protect them as best he could from the worst of what was to come.

 

Sometimes he wondered what would have happened if he had refused Alin's offer to become the Commander of the Tower Guard.  He had preferred the relative innocence of being a soldier, the responsibility of decisions being upon others.  Well, not entirely, he had despised some of the decisions that had been made for him, but the responsibility of sending others into danger was something he had never become entirely comfortable with.  Blood was blood, whether one spilled it or they sent others to have theirs spilled.  The only consolation was that this danger was to be tempted in order to end the greater danger.  One of the Chosen.

 

"You could at least be using an axe."

 

"I might be swearing of the sword, but that would be splitting hairs on the intention of the oath.  We do be approaching the Palace, quiet be in order."

 

Getting a nod in turn from Kalos, Con turned from the man to their target.  The Palace of the Council of Nine was a great structure of Ogier design, exactly like the Royal Palace save for being two feet smaller in every measurement.  Supporting a decent garrison for security, many people that could have been counted on to help them had been expelled early in Ja'varan's usurption of the Laurel Crown yet there were still a few that could aid them.  The gates unfortunately had not been practical.  There was no reason for a large gathering of people to be approaching any of them and the alarm would have been raised.

 

Yet there had been an alternative.  Illian's canals had led to an entrance being made at the water level, an easy means of bringing supplies in and out of the Palace.  Not an uncommon sight at any time of the day or night with the supply of the army outside being an issue, the Palace had turned into a storehouse for particularly sensitive items like the finer weaponry to be issued to the new Companions that Ja'varan had seen fit to have trained in order to fill the holes in the ranks left by loyalists that had discovered her nature and defended the true Queen as she had escaped.

 

On the score of boats that Con and his men had manned, there were dozens of great crates where they had stowed away the men of the Band with the Black Tower, hidden with their weapons.  Cramped no doubt, but necessary to hide their numbers.  Once they were inside, Con and his men would help the sympathisers subdue the other guards, then crack the crates open and let the others out of the crates.  All the while they had to stay quiet while they stood in the crates.  Alot of trust in Con and his men to pull it off, but Con had no intention of him or his men being the weak link.

 

Even now the Palace loomed over their boats made their way down the canal.  Its white walls and purple slated roofs a darker shade under the half moon that loomed above them, the stray thought that Con had never thought to enter the Council Palace, particularly in this manner, was quickly brushed aside.  Instead he did the top button of his long coat up and made his way to the back of the boat even as Nic hailed the guards and identified them as carrying supplies.  Giving the password when requested, the chain boom was raised clear of the boats and they were allowed to continue.

 

Passing through a small tunnel in single file, it was torchlight that greeted them as they cleared it.  A dock of marble within the palace itself, the boats sidled up alongside the different piers even as guardsmen formed up on them.  Not one of them bore a drawn weapon though, supplies being moved in and out were common and there was never any trouble.  After all, how was this to be expected?

 

Following the men up onto the pier, Con remained quiet as he let Nic do the talking.  Before any of the unloading could begin, each man had to be checked for weapons.  Beginning to undo his coat, he only had the first button undone when a pair of the sympathisers amongst the guard had taken up a position by the stairwell and closed the door.

 

That was the signal.

 

"Now!"

 

Grabbing the nearest guard, Con knocked him into the land of dreams with brutal blow to the temple that had the man's eyes rolling to the ceiling even as he collapsed.  The others were already tackling the nearest guards and quickly overwhelming them before they could free their weapons or give a cry of alarm.  Any that won free were in turn taken down by the sympathisers who had revealed themselves by removing their helms.  A brutally quick scuffle, it didn't even last a minute before the last of the pretender's guardsmen were dispatched.

 

"Crowbars, be cracking those crates open already and let them out.  Once that be done and our friends do be disembarked, be getting the crates off and be heading back down the canal and be fetching the rest of our fellows and theirs.  By the time you do be getting back, we should be having the garrison subdued.  Hurry now."

 

Turning away as the militia got to work with freeing the Bandsmen and the Asha'men from the crates, Con walked over to Kalos who was now talking with the leader of the loyalists who had helped them take the dock.  Tyrian Evangel, he was one of those old men who retained a wiry strength that many didn't expect from his aged frame.  He was also Urias' uncle, which tied them together through Con's sister, Alexa, whom Urias was married to.  Nodding as Tyrian greeted him, he listened as Tyrian related what information he had.

 

"The garrison do be standing at about four hundred men currently.  Of that, there do be a little over two score that do be knowing the truth of the Usurper and be loyal.  Most of the guardsmen do be new, the Usurper's men.  Our men did be managing to be getting themselves on duty at the different gates, so we be sure that no one do be getting out.  The challenge do be in making sure those on the walls no be raising an alarm, but now that you do be here we be ready to make our move and be silencing those on the walls."

 

"What about those that do be in the barracks?  Did you be able to do it?"

 

"Yes, no be knowing how we managed but we did be managing to drug a goodly number of them during the evening meal.  No one be suddenly dropping off to sleep, but they no be entirely awake either.  The main problem do be the Council chamber.  Each Council member do be having Companions in their entourage.  Along with the ordinary guards that do be watching the chambers those Companions do be there, about three score in all."

 

"Who do be leading them?"

 

"Syrinos."

 

The sour look from Kalos caused Con to raise his eyebrow.

 

"Syrinos Savelli be one of the High Blades of Illian, and I know him to be false.  It was him and his company that attacked mine as we did be getting the Princess to safety."

 

Pausing, Con didn't take long to answer.  "Then we do be denying the Usurper some of her finer troops before we even do be taking the battle to her lair."  Looking to behind him, Con noted that most of their soldiers were disembarked before turning back to Tyrian.  "Do be sending your men to pass the word to begin clearing the walls.  We do be needing you to be showing us the way to the Nine's Chamber."

 

"Done."

 

Turning away as Tyrian began to issue orders for the men to put on their green armbands and to get moving, Con needed a moment to pick out his Queen from amongst the crowd, Arette by her side.  Light but Con had most certainly not wanted her here, but against any possible dreadlords they needed everyone they could get, or so the argument Arette had weakened his resolve on the matter had gone.  Gathered with them were several Asha'man and Bandsmen, those from the initial meeting at his home.  Handy, they needed to hear what he had been told as much as the Queen did.

 

Stopping before them, Con summarised what he'd been told before adding his own words to it.  "Everything do be going according to plan so far.  As long as we do be sticking to plan, then we do be having nothing to fear.  We will be needing at least three score men to be taking the Council chamber though since we be needing to be keeping channeling to a minimum so we no be alerting Ja'varan.  And, of course, be sure to be taking the Council members alive.  Do there be any questions?"

 

 

Con Stavros

Militia Head

 

OOC:  Long in the coming I know, should be finishing off work instead of doing this but finally got the right idea.

 

Basically we snuck in on boats, all you guys were in crates and we've let you out and you're unpacked in the underground dock.  The guards who are on our side are wearing green armbands.

 

Now, whats happening is we'll be heading through the Palace, sending squads through the halls to subdue enemy guards which shall be easy work for the most part because their evening meal was drugged.  Our posts need to get us near the council chambers, at which point I'll do another massive post (which won't wait nearly as long since the semester is approaching its end) and we'll be in the Council chambers for the main melee.

 

All good?  Awesome, take it away guys :)

[Wayfarer]

Estel's Post

 

“Kedyn, you smell awful!” Carnhain hissed weakly at his best friend.  It was meant as a joke, but the tiny crate they shared with some two dozen other Banders didn’t exactly have a good supply of fresh air.  To simply breath, one had to get past gagging on the pungent smells of sweat, vomit and gas- they were, for the most part, men.

 

It was an awfully long ride stuck, cramped as they were, in the tiny crate on the back of a barge.  Carnhain, having never seen the sea before coming to Illian, was unfamiliar to the roll of the sea which was so different from the familiar roll of a horse’s gallop.  As such, he had managed to throw up all over himself and the poor people around him.  Not that some of those weren’t throwing up themselves.

 

By the time their crate was opened some time later, the stench inside it was so bad that the men opening it had to step back at the release of smell and began gagging.  The cavalryman would have offered up some wisecrack but this mission was to be completed in complete silence.  Instead, he carefully lowered himself into the water of the canal, which was truthfully not much cleaner than the muck on his armour.  Crawling back out of the water, his arms shaking with exertion from first the effort needed to lower himself in quietly, then hold the weight of his body in full armour and then pull himself out.

 

He waited silently for Stavros’ next command as he was to be part of the group taking the chamber.

[Wayfarer]

Kael's Post

 

Kedyn was nearly coughing up his lungs as the crate he and some of the other Bander's were in was finally opened, trying desperately to hold in the contents of his stomach and thankful he had not eaten anything for a good while. "Speak for yourself Carnhain." Kedyn straightened himself out and checked the knives he had hidden about his person, and the longsword strapped to his back. He turned to Miria and reached out to take her hand. She was a soldier yes, but that didn't mean he was happy that she was here. One command could have left her behind, but he could not do that just because they were a couple.

 

Kedyn had finished listening to Con give out the plan before he turned to the Bander's near him to give his advice, even though Carnhain was still the commanding officer of the group. "I suggest the scouts going in first, sneaking or acting like an ally and then ambushing with knives and fists. Maybe try to subdue them without killing them if you can, but don't do anything to forfeit Band member's lives."

 

Stavros' and his men began to move and the Band and Ashaman followed behind them. Kedyn stayed back with Carnhain, the leader of the Scouts and picked men to send with the patrols down the halls, he tried to stay out of the fighting to much..he had had all the fighting he would need for his life and it wasn't necessary to put himself in danger, a snake didn't do too well without it's head.

 

 

Kedyn

[Wayfarer]

Arette's Post

 

All the canals in Illian stung if not as badly as the Perfumed Quarters, Arette decided sourly as she stood beside the true queen of Illian on the last boat manned by Con's militia. They both wore simple clothes and cloaks and the guards of the Council's Palace would have no reason to see nothing but two servant women. She would have wanted to be in the same boat with her husband but since he had to lead the men and she couldn't channel, it would have made her an liability. And she couldn't exactly insist on being close to him without revealing that her strongest motive of being present was guarding his back and making sure that he would not die on her. Of course her help would also be needed with the Dreadlords in their next target and she had to keep an eye on the Asha'man and the young Queen and those arguments had won Con's desire to keep her cloistered home safely.

 

Everyone were playing their roles and the Banders and Black Towerers were quiet in their crates as they approached the Palace. It did not impress her much as a building, not much could after the White Tower and living in Caemlyn and she found it rediculous that the Council had wanted to imitate the King's palace. But men were often like that with their prides. As the first boat landed, she forgot her mood and rose on her toes to see how Con and the militia fared against the first guards. She partially leaned toward the opinion Kalos Melanoaos had spoken out loud many times during the weeks he had spent with him that Con should be using a sword today. She could understand why he had made his oath and she had helped him to get over his grief over his brother's death and his own revenge. She also trusted his skills with weapons but still there was something more comforting in the shield and long sword that had been his chosen tools than in quarterstaff. But nothing would happen to him and she shouldn't worry and get moody over it.

 

The ensuing scuffle with the guards was brief and effective. It took less than a minute to dispatch the Palace's first line of defense and the crates could be broken. Likely the allies inside would appreciate any fresher air. She didn't spare them much thought after that even though she was aware of the blackcoats closest to her and the Queen. Mostly her attention was on Con who was speaking with Kalos and her sister's husband's uncle. It annoyed her that she couldn't hear what they were saying but she wouldn't have used the One Power to overhear even if she could have channeled freely. They would share the keypoint with all the men soon and she could wait for that.

 

Their gazes met for a brief moment and it felt as intense as a touch. She worded silently "Be safe, love" and he nodded that he had understood before summarizing the plan again to everyone's benefit. She had no questions and neither did the Banders and the Asha'man so the men began to file inside the Palace. She and the Queen were at the rear accompanied by her usual trio, Leon, Luca and Bernd and some Banders and an unknown Asha'man who seemed to trust her as little as she him. They got no share of the action as the scouts cleared the halls before them and Luca managed to make her smile by complaining about it dramatically.

 

Finally after enough corridors that she had lost count, the people before them paused. Sofia whispered to her that they were in front of the Council's chamber and the poor child seemed to nervous under her good facade that Arette decided to shake her out of it by asking if there were any Council members she wanted to be rid of as it could be arranged easily in the midst of fighting. Fia caught that she was joking but the Asha'man eyed her disapprovingly which she returned with an innocent smile. But it was easy for her to jest as she wasn't in the forefront and the thought sobered her quickly. She tried to peek over the crowd of soldiers in front of them and see Con but to her dismay she could not spot him before the battle call was given. Light protect them all, even the Asha'man.

[Wayfarer]

Sam's Post

 

Happiness had long been considered the numb feeling one experienced when reaching the bottom of a very potent drink; the millions of people subscribing to this strict philosophy would prelate some shred of truth. To say, on the other hand, that happiness could be found locked within a very cramped crate, with a host of former enemies, unwashed bodies, and smells carrying some very creative textures, was something else altogether. But despite the apparently obliqueness of such a possibility, at least one person felt so.

 

Brandeis did not mind the unpleasant conditions. They were similar to conditions he himself had imposed on others, only to a lesser degree. Assaulting the senses, casting prevailing woe upon his subjects, these had been staple tools of the inquisition trade. It would take more than a little stench to bother him, and so he simply sat squashed against one side, thankful for having attained the position, and employed his military discipline to pass the time.

 

An odd destiny the Creator had planned for him, it was true. To abandon his family, his duties, and everything he had ever known for the chance to play mercenary hero, how classical. It had been easy enough to let get go of the questioning, the only part of his life that his moral compass had ever queried the direction of. But he was forever a military man, in mind body and nature; there were worse fates.

 

As the crate opened he could not suppress a sharp pang of relief, which in part offended his sense of vigour. The fresh air quickly stole away that train of thought. He spotted Con, and as always, moved to his side. An odd thing to deny himself the blade, Brandeis thought, but no stranger than a questioner giving up his search for truth. If no one else could understand what had prompted such a drastic oath, at least he himself did.

 

Bizarre it was to be wearing other than the pure white of his brethren, bereft of the shepherds crook and the sunburst he had felt naked for some time: utterly amazing how much influence a dress code could exert over a mind. The first colour Brandeis had chosen was brown; it was how all of his garments looked eventually, given his adoration of soil and its many creations.

 

Having never been a fan of heavy armour, Brandeis wore minimal protection for this outing, complementing it with a large shield, and the war hammer gifted to him by a man whose face he could barely remember. So strange to be so different, yet so freeing at the same time: no longer was he Brandeis Meinrad the Inquisitor of the Light, but simply a man with a purpose and a friend. After all, that was why he was there.

 

The honour was his to be the last defence between the enemy and Stavros if the conflict became that heated. There was little resistance and there was little reason to worry. The true battle would be waged elsewhere and until that moment he could relax somewhat, but not largely. Light forbid anything actually happen to the man, he’d be turned into a frog for certain.

 

And just like the click of fingers they were there, and sobriety settled over him as feathered bed linen. He had received a few light wounds, nicks and scratches; nothing to stop his progress or stunt his efficiency, and he was efficient, if only of average ability. He would be adequate to the task for there was no other option; failure, was not an option.

 

OOC: Sorry, wanted to have it up a little quicker, but it took me twenty four minutes!

[Wayfarer]

Sweeping through the palace, Con was surprised at how well it had managed to hold together.  The soldiers of the Band were showing a far greater aptitude for ambush and silence than he would have expected.  Guards that they came across were quickly silenced, no soul spared as they made their way for fear of betraying themselves.  It was the worst thing about it for the Con, knowing that amongst the Darkfriends they killed that there were no doubt some innocent men that were only doing what they did because they had been deceived.  There was no choice in the matter though, a few had to die so that many could live and be freed from the Darkfriends that had taken the city.  Not much of a balm for Con's conscience, but it was better than none.  At least the servants in the halls could be spared, unarmed and unarmoured they had no chance to defend themselves from being seized and quietened with a solid blow.

 

It took time in order to remain unknown, but the main column had made its way near the Council chamber.  It was but a couple of halls away that Kalos had asked Con to bring them all to a halt.  Exposed in the halls as they were, Con did so and signalled for the leaders of their expedition to gather around.  What Kalos had to say, they all needed to know not only for themselves, but so they could pass the word along down the line.

 

"Ahead, there do be three score Companions.  Amongst them do be some of our finest bladesmen, all of them be knowing their duties and after the initial surprise, we do be losing any advantage.  Our best chance do be rushing the ones that do be at the door of which there do be always at least ten, overwhelming them and pushing into the hall.  If we do be wasting time trying to pick them off as we have, it simply do be giving them time to prepare and be holding us at the door where our numbers no be mattering.  Rushing do no be elegant, but it do be our best chance to minimise casualties.  If we do be getting inside quickly enough that they no be able to hold us at the door, then our numbers be doing the rest."

 

Con looked to the others as he spoke simply.  "Be taking but a minute to be passing the news down the line.  When we be starting to move, we walk quietly until we do be reaching the corner.  At my call, we do be rushing.  There be but twenty feet from that corner to the doors, the corridor be wide enough for perhaps eight abreast.  Be picking out our best to be putting at the front, Brandeis and I do be forming the centre of the front line.  Kalos, you do be with us as well.  And remember, the Council do be under compulsion, if they do be taking up arms, they are to be disarmed.  The others do be Darkfriend to the last, no quarter."

 

"Each Council member do be recognisable enough by their distinctive livery."

 

Nodding at Kalos' interjection, Con added.  "Remember, this do be the first step.  By now our fellows do be having either taken the gates and walls, or our cause already be lost.  All or nothing.  Do be passing the word, one minute."

 

Watching as those gathered dispersed to do their duty, Con looked at Arette only briefly before turning away and making his way to the front line with Kalos and Brandeis in tow.  It wasn't long before others joined them and more pressed behind them.  Taking a simple yet well forged cudgel from his belt, he touched it lightly to Brandeis warhammer and Kalos' blade in turn for luck as they stood either side of him, they would all need every bit of it they could get.  The only thing they could hope for was to close the distance quickly, there would be no time to dispatch them except in the first blow.  They'd have to get the door open or alot of their men would be amongst the dead that this coup would make.

 

Raising his cudgel, Con began to walk forward as did the others.  A great deal of care had been taken with the equipment of the men be they Band, militia or otherwise, everything was muffled as much as possible so there was not a clink to be heard.  A slow movement muffled by the rich green and gold carpet underfoot, they rounded a corner, then another corner, then they inched the steps towards the last corner, step by step...

 

Lifting his weapon one final time, Con broke into a run as others did around him.  There were no battlecries on their part as they sprinted around the corner and down the last twenty feet towards the great doors leading into the inner sanctum of the palace, council hall.  Whether the Companions who stood at the doors had ever contemplated such a thing ever occuring, one would never know but they managed to overcome their initial shock and clear their weapons from their sheathes and yell a warning to those within as the front line of the charge hit them.

 

Using his cudgel to divert the thrust that was levelled at his midriff, it became caught between his weapon and Brandeis shield even as Con ploughed through the man.  Stepping over the Companion and leaving him to be trampled by those who followed, Con's shoulder met the doors squarely and shoved them open as the weight of those behind him propelled him forward into the hall.  From carpet to marble, Con had little time to appreciate the beauty of a room sheathed in it or the tapestries of past victories hanging from every wall.  All he saw was men with swords wearing the silver and black of the Companions and nine men seated at a round table of various plumes and designs, the Council.

 

No time for thought as he kept moving, Con deflected the blow of the first man he met and simply ran past him and barged past a second before being forced to stop and engage a third as the Companions began to constrict towards the entrance.  Stepping aside a thrust as he brought his cudgel down, he smashed the man's sword hand only to barely have time to spin and divert a nasty slash from the right that was meant to hamstring him.  In such close quarters as these, the man didn't have space to step back as Con reached and grabbed his arm.  Yanking him while he was off balance into the path of another blade, he moved within a sphere of space that he pushed into the enemy, using their inability to attack without moving in each other's way to keep him safe as much as his flurrying cudgel, all the while driving deeper to open a spot for others to take advantage and hoping that they were not far behind.

 

 

Con Stavros

Militia Head

 

OOC: Lets do our thing :)  Disarm and even knock out the Council members if you come across them, kill the Companions to the last.  Well, not the last, Kalos will be facing off against Syrinos and he'll be the last one to go.  But, yes, get into it :)

[Arath Faringal]

Arath Faringal followed the group through the impressive building that housed the Council of Nine.  He was a little restless at having to take a back seat for this first part, channeling would be so much faster, but he well understood the need for secrecy.  Channeling at all might alert any dreadlords stationed among the ranks of the enemy.  But his moment would come soon.  He was sure they were approaching their destination, after the seemingly endless hallways and corridors they had passed. 

 

At long last Stavros called them together again for last minute instructions.  Kill all Companions and capture all of the Nine.  Simple enough.  Arath threw a questioning look at Con, silently asking if channeling would be permitted now.  A barely perceptible nod confirmed it.  The Asha'man's moment had come.  Turning to the Asha'man and Dedicated who accompanied him, he gave his own instructions.  "We go behind the initial charge and seek out the Council members.  Bind them and quickly remove them from the battle.  Keep channeling to a minimum if you can, but get the job done.  Kill any Companions who get in your way quickly and quietly.  Air razors and such.  Once the council is secure, assist the Band and militia in securing the chamber."  It may have been pointless to repeat all of this again.  They had gone over the plan several times before during the previous day, but one could never be reminded enough of the simplest plans.

 

A few minutes later it all began.  After sneaking down a couple more hallways, Con led the charge toward the council chamber.  Only a few of the well trained Companions fell in surprise.  The others recovered quickly, acting as if this were a normal occurance to be attacked in the middle of the palace.  Arath and his companions followed close behind the front line of attackers, wielding their own blades and their deadlier weapons against the elite guards of Illian.  Arath's twin short swords deflected attacks from enemy soldiers intent on his destruction, while he counterattacked with Saidin.  Thin weaves of air slashed out the throats of any who stood in his way as he purposefully moved deeper into the room.  Spying a council member a little ways ahead, Arath prepared the weaves he'd need.  A trio of Companions stood in front of the Illianer Lord, showing no sign of moving for anything.  Weaves of Air snaked out across the floor and jerked the feet out from under one man and cracking his head against the nearby table.  A thin razor silently drew across the throat of Companion to the left, leaving a dripping red line.  The third man was visibly shaken, having watched both of his companions fall to an unseen foe, foolishly, but to his credit, he stood his ground.  A moment later he fell too as a spike of air drove through his chest, piercing his heart.

 

In short order the first council member was secured;  bound in weaves of air and dumped unceremoniously under the large table in the center of the room.  Satisfied that he wasn't going anywhere, Arath rejoined the battle.  There was more work to be done before this skirmish was over.

[Guest Estel]

Giving Kedyn a tight smile and gripping his older brother’s shoulder, Carnhain watched as the scout set off to take care of those on the walls.  Meanwhile, the cavalryman checked the straps on his breastplate.  Besides his helm, the breastplate was the only steel he wore openly, underneath and over the rest of his body he wore only reinforced leather and his boots were his soft-soled sparring boots rather than his heavier riding boot.  Donning his helm, he took care to endure the visor didn’t creak as he moved it into place.

 

It took all the skill he had learned from Kedyn in the art of stealth to keep as silent as the rest of the militia and Banders as they gradually moved towards the centre of the palace.  Carnhain’s broadsword remained sheathed for this part of the operation as he favoured a long-tipped spear which was about as akin as he could find to a lance.  The shaft was much shorter than the guards’ polearms and pikes but it still had a longer range than any of their longswords.  The primary reason for the weapons was the wooden shaft that made only a dull thunk when hit by a blade, which carried only a short ways in comparison to the ring of steel on steel.

 

The guard let out only a weak grunt as Carnhain thrust with the shortened foot-lance.  The young man winced as the guard’s drawn sword clattered to the ground and he glanced nervously up and down the winding corridors for any sign that he had been heard or that an alarm was being sent up.  Twisting the shaft so that the pronged speartip made a fatal disaster of the man’s vital organs.  Stepping in closer to the man and pushing his spear all the through the man’s body, the cavalryman eased him to the ground to avoid the clatter his armour would make as it hit the ground.  Only then did Carnhain draw his broadsword, slashing open the man’s neck to avoid any deathscreams the man might utter as he ruthlessly jerked his lance back out of the man’s body.

 

The Tinker soldier avoided looking at the face of his victim.  He didn’t want to know whether or not he had killed a father whose family needed his support or a boy who would never get the chance to father boys of his own.  His insane blood lust throbbed in his head, demanding more blood; more fathers’ and boys’ lives.  Carnhain’s mind kept an iron fist around it though, struggling to overpower its influence and maintaining his sanity.

 

Finally, the small group Carnhain was with merged with the larger group as they gathered for the final charge.  A familiar laugh rang out over the crowd and the young man elbowed his way towards it.

 

“Uncle!”

 

“You’re here too nephew!  Good, for a bit I was wondering whether you’d turned coward on me and gone with the scouts.”

 

“Never!”

 

“We’re up for a good fight then.”

 

Carnhain drew his broadsword and lightly touched it to Rowul’s axe Snaga.  Verbal commands were hissed from one soldier to another so that the plans spread like the ripples of a pond, Stavros and his commanders being the rock and diffused to those on the outskirts of the group.

 

Broadsword in his right hand, foot-lance in his left, the young man crouched on the balls of hit feet, ready to sprint forward when the order came.  He didn’t need to look over at Rowul to know the man was standing seemingly at ease with the axe resting on top of hit boot, haft held loosely in his right hand.  Carnhain could feel his uncle at his side and despite the man’s air of unconcern, felt his tension.

 

Their signal came more from the movement of those in front of them rather than the actual signal from Stavros who was on the front lines so as to be one of the first into the chamber- if he made it.  Generally the front lines didn’t last all that long, but the Bander was unaware of the older man’s skill and so couldn’t comprehend why a commander would join the front ranks in their death charge.

 

By the time Carnhain met his first opponent, he had already leapt over the bodies of some half dozen men and this one went down with the foot-lance stuck in his chest, clutching at his ruined side where his armour did not cover.  The last the cavalryman saw or remembered of his was the blood dribbling down his chin as he tried to lash out with his blade, his strength having failed too much do to more damage than give the blonde man a neat gash across the back of his unprotected calf.  If this would have been a longer fight, that injury might have become a hindrance but as it was, Carnhain met a total of three opponents before everything in livery was twitching and trashing on the ground.

 

It wasn’t only liveried men croaking death rattles though, there was still half the number of green armbanded men and women groaning from grievious and fatal injuries.  On his way into the chamber, a particularly familiar still form with a green armband caught his eye.

 

“No!” he gasped but even before Carnhain saw the axe he knew.  “Noooo!”  Tears ran freely down his cheeks as he wept unashamedly amid his uncle’s entrails, protruding from the pompous captain’s ruined belly.

[Arette]

The men in front of Arette and her and Sofia's guardians began to run and they picked up pace too. She could see the grand entrance of the council hall but a column of soldiers blocked the actual fight at the door and she could hear only clangs of weapon and dying cries. The troops moved forward and by the time they were at the massive doorway, the bodies of its defenders were throughoutly trampled and she walked past their crushed forms with a wave of nausea. Battle raged in the big vaunted room but Leon who led the trio was determined to keep the women off from it. He stopped them near the entrance where they were to wait beside a wall with the three of Con's companions in a defensive formation in front of them. The Banders and the Asha'man who had been with them joined the melee.

 

It was frustrating and frightening to see only glimpses of the fight from behind the back of Luca. She had never been more afraid for Con and she had to constantly remind herself that there was to be no channeling until the Queen's palace or their surprise would be ruined. There was nothing that she could do but watch and listen men die. Occasionally the combatants moved so that wider openings let her see glimpses of the Council members protected by their assigned Companions. The five of them were not left undisturbed when a few of the Companions spotted that something was being guarded so vigorously by the attackers. They were clearly veterans and Leon, Luca and Bernd were hard-pressed to keep them off their charges. Sofia was clearly unsettled as it was the first battle she ever witnessed and she stumbled while moving out of one dueling pair's way. Her hood slid off and the Companion recognized her. His determination to off Leon doubled and he began to rally more men to them by hollering that the imposter was there.

 

Arette yanked the young heir to the throne to her feet and pressed Sofia tight against the wall positioning herself to cover her as a living shield. She was on brink of embracing saidar but Con's command of no channeling held her back. The inability to do anything else but follow helplessly was maddening. The crowd around them thickened as about dozen more the Companions charged following the call and militia men and Banders moved to block them. Time seemed to loose relevance and she noticed strange meaningless details, the stubble of one of the Companions, a sword slash in a tapestry and how dark the pool of blood gathered on the floor seemed.

 

Their side was winning in front of Arette and through the cleared space she finally spotted Con. He was in middle of the room fighting back to back with one of his men and thank the Light he didn't seem to be badly injured. Her focus narrowed on him and soon shifted to a ruckus nearing him. A soldier that seemed to be on their side fought with such suicidal disregard of his own safety that it made her wince. It seemed effective nonetheless as his opponents fell before him. There was something tantalizingly familiar in the figure but she was was certain that it was none of their men. When it dawned on her who it was, she had to stiffle a scream of terror. Marden Veniso was a dangerous madman on loose, a rabid dog that the White Tower should have put down but the law of her and Karana's devicing had made it doubly forbidden. He had killed three Aes Sedai when he escaped and countless Tower Guards and now she was utterly convinced that he would plant his blade on Con's back any moment. He had to be a darkfriend beside everything else and in service of the Forsaken.

 

But she couldn't abandon Sofia and channeling was out of question or there would be no hope of ousting the Forsaken. With dark foreboding she watched the events unfold and prayed that Con would be just badly wounded so he could be Healed. She could never forgive herself but their mission was more important than even his life.

 

Arette Stavros

Exiled Brown Sister

[Wayfarer]

"RAAAAAAH!"

 

Parrying the thrust of his opponent to the side as he kept charging forward, lowering his shoulder to knock the man slighter man before him off his feet.  Trampling over the man, he almost tripped but recovered in time to catch the next attack with his right blade and with his hacked down on the man's sword hand.  Following up with his right as he cleaved the man's head from his body, Marden kept moving forward even as his black coat became darker for the lifesblood that drizzled onto him as he knocked the corpse out of his way with his broadswords held low.

 

While Marden was not a blademaster, he was by no means unaccomplished.  A veteran of the Borderlands and under Dramon Calgar, he knew exactly how to handle himself in such a close melee.  Momentum was important, and that was why he chased after Con Stavros, slashing anyone who the man missed as he led them forward.  And what he lacked in skill, he more than made up for with a single minded rage and hatred for the Darkfriends he faced and the gnawing agony that the Aes Sedai had given him.  Gentled by their Tower, physical pain was a blessing and death would only be a release from it, the grave had no fear for him.

 

It was because of this that he was able to surprise his opponents as he followed, disregarding his own defence and giving thought only to the attack.  Others were with him as they followed, slashing and hacking their way through the dark Companions even as their own fell, in quick succession.  Battle was as much a matter of luck as it was skill, and for now it held with Marden as he swept a man's defensive posture aside with a powerful slash as he spun, his other blade sweeping low and cleaving through the man's leg as he kneeled under the counter blow that the Companion leveled.

 

Raising a blade high as the man fell, the sword followed and ended it with a crimson tide...

 

 

"Kalos!"

 

Ripping his broadsword free as he looked for the source of the challenge, Kalos didn't even notice the body slide against him as it fell to the ground.  A man in black with silver trimming, the mocking smile that didn't match the ice in his eyes was familiar to him immediately.  Syrinos.

 

There were no words as the pair rushed at each other, Whirlwind on the Mountain swept low as Water Flows Downhill, The Falcon Stoops caught up while Syrinos was Parting the Silk even as The Grapevine Twines.  Slipping free of Syrinos, Kalos's face was flat as the Lightning of Three Prongs was swept aside as The Boar Rushes Down the Mountain, the Moon Rises Over the Water was wrapped up by the Ribbon in the Air.

 

Spinning backwards as he was Twisting in Wind, Kalos buffeted Syrinos' attacks as the Darkfriend was Striking the Spark, forcing the man to chase.  Five revolutions and Kalos had reached the wall as the man slashed with brutal force.  Leaning back on the wall as he dropped down, the Arc of the Moon wailed against the stone even as Kalos jumped forward, the Tower of Morning greeting Syrinos' unprotected groin and carving its way through entrail and bone to his midsection.

 

The sword dropping from Syrinos' hand, the darkfriend fell heavily onto Kalos' shoulder, holding himself up with his last strength as he whispered.  "The Great Lord be hav-"

 

Kalos twisted his blade slightly.  "Piss on your Dark Lord."  Ripping the blade upward and free as it cleared the man's chest, with both hands he hacked downward, shearing through neck and shoulder to clear the darkfriend's armpit, two wet thumps slapping the ground instead of one as Kalos surveyed the battle, it was done...

 

 

"Do be taking the wounded over there.  No it no be mattering who they be, just be taking them over there, healers be helping them."

 

Con steeled himself as he looked to the dead.  Twenty three in all, ten of them from amongst the Band of the Red Hand but thirteen of them were from his militia.  Watching as they were laid out, he couldn't bring himself to mourn as he saw members of his family lying there, eight of them in all.  Many more would die before the throne was done, he couldn't let himself go now or he'd be useless to those that were still alive.  The numbness helped, though he knew that it would pass, even as the Commander he had not been able to stave it off indefinitely.  Returning to Illian had taught him that he shouldn't, just as long as was necessary.

 

"Con!"

 

Turning about, Con nodded at Kalos as he saw what the man was indicating to.  The Council had been secured, half of them were unconscious and the other half restrained.  One looked like he'd taken a nasty gash to the side but one of the Asha'man, Arath he thought, was seeing to it.  The one who had insulted his wife.  Shaking his head, it was Kalos who got his attention again.  Giving him permission to go to the cells where more of their fellows were busy freeing the prisoners, he watched the man take a few of his militia with him as before proceeding.

 

Seeing Arette beside Sofia, he walked over to the pair who were still trying to understand what had happened.  His wife had limited knowledge of fighting, and he doubted that Sofia had had any experience save for when she had been freed, and from what Kalos had said, that had been fleeting.  "The main chamber do be secure, we do be hearing from the others soon enough and short of disaster, we do be fine.  Our friend, Asha'man Arath, do be freeing the Council from the compulsion soon.  Twenty three dead here, we will be learning our full losses when the others report in."

 

"Con, look."

 

Looking where his wife gestured, over to where the wounded awaited healing, Con had to look carefully before he realised who Arette was pointing to.  His grip tightening on his cudgel, it took a moment before Con was able to force himself to relax.  "He do be wearing the black, we no be able to touch him without disrupting the alliance.  We will be talking to the Asha'man afterward though if he do be surviving the day, perhaps they no be realising who they be sheltering."

 

"Princess Sofia?  Could you come over, they're free now."

 

Turning and looking towards the Council, Con stepped aside so that Sofia could go and speak to the Council.  There would be much to speak of.

 

 

OOC: Going to open a new thread for the rescued prisoners (Forge and Andular etc, council stuff will happen on here.  Aftermath posts and Arath if you want to write the breaking of the compulsion with spirit etc, otherwise save yourselves for phase three.  Its going to be big :D

[Arath Faringal]

The brief battle died down around Arath as he secured the final two council members, binding and gagging them with air weaves.  Dragging them over to the pile of nobles next to the center table, he assessed the situation.  He grimaced slightly when his eyes passed over the nasty wound across the ribs of one of the captives, but the damage lay within his own skill to heal.  After closing the wound, Arath performed a quick count.  All nine lords were accounted for, some unconscious, others bound, gagged, and completely ungrateful for the rescue they had just recieved.  But they were not aware that they had been rescued.  Yet. 

 

Walking over to a particularly mad looking noble, Arath forced him into a chair and stood behind him.  Focusing hard on the task at hand, he wove spirit.  A small tendril of spirit snaked forward and gently probed around the Illian lord's head.  It was odd, trying to detect the fine web of compulsion created by Saidar, maddening to be looking for something you could feel, but not see.  The added danger of sending probes of spirit into someone's brain made it even better.

 

His eyes lost focus and took on a slightly glazed look as he gently explored the weave.  In his mind he formed a picture of how this net was formed, trying to find a central point.  A knot where he could just pick at and-  A smile sprang up onto his face as he found it.  Plucking at the knot with that fine spirit probe, he felt the entire web unravel.  His test subject stirred a little, shaking his head as if suddenly waking from a dream, his thoughts suddenly his own again.

 

Not waiting for the exclamation of gratitude that surely would never come anyway, Arath set to work on the next man.  It was much faster and easier this time, now that he knew where to look.  It was still a delicate process, but the remaining eight council members were all quickly freed from their mental enslavement and returned to a full awareness of their situation.  Stepping back from the final one, the man Arath had healed, Arath caught Con's eye and nodded to him.  "It is done," he said simply, indicating the nine nobles who were now free of their physical and mental bondage.  "They should be fine now."

[TaeaDawn]

It had been the easiest hard thing she had ever done in her life.  The choice had been too simple really and for the simple girl that she was, the answer even simpler.  She couldn't wait on the sidelines to find out if her friends had died to save the country she had been born to.  Though she had lived a horrid life in Illian, Jatasha Danica did not look upon it so.  She remembered her mother and the few friends she had made there.  She remembered working the streets in the worst heat until the stench made them all want to gag, only to have an unexpected rainstorm come upon them.  She remembered dancing with one of the other girls until it felt like the dirt of the Perfumed Quarters might be washed from their limbs as the laughter washed it from their souls.  Those memories were what she held onto as she continued through the battle. 

 

She moved in and out of the armies, keeping as far from anyone that might know her as possible.  Those that knew her might try to protect her and those in the Band would know she had no place in this battle, but she was there anyways, her knives and daggers drawing blood as well as any other.  She wasn't battle trained, but she was street hardened and blood wasn't a new sight to her.  Seeing the people dieing around her though, knowing that she had spilled it... she prayed the Creator would forgive her for how she had fallen.  She had only wanted to find her mother's people.  She had wanted to find the Travelling People and be with them and the Way of the Leaf, but it had always been a dream and nothing more.  Jatasha was a whore and now a butcher.  Nothing changed that.  No amount of wishing would make her pure enough for her mother's people now.  Tears feel down her face as she moved through the battle, but her blades didn't slow.  Not for her tears, not for her enemy's blood, and certainly not for her own. 

 

Jatasha Danica

[Guest Arie Ronshor]

 

 

She sat for the moment as there was a momentary lapse in their sieging of her Palace, her home. A mere fraction of a moment that passed by her as if it were days. None could have known as they stared onto to the serene face of Princess Sofia Stepanneos that it was all a facade. A facade that hid the inner termoil as those loyal to her fathers crown, to her, marched into battle without hesitation and ready to die for the Crown. That it woul dbe placed on her head.

 

But she hesitated, the emotion far from her face. Why?

 

Some could say that the young princess was collecting her thoughts, anouther may have said that she was afraid of the imposter that sat on her throne. But none woul dhave guessed that the look behind her beautiful eyes were that of insecurity and the fear she would fail. Her own council had turned on her as Jav'aran unseated her, and Sofia had disapeared to save her own life. A coward. Returning had only pushed these thoughts to a more demanding part of her mind as she felt the conflict of her own resolve.

 

Could she truely take on her Fathers Crown?

 

The answer would have been obvious to any around her. A resounding "yes" would have formed on her lips without hesitation. And she would answer this without hesitation. Even without a visible hesitation, Sofia was holding back because of her fear. Fear that she would not be fit to Rule and end up like Jav'aran, corrupt and evil. Sofia shuttered. No. It simple was impossible.

 

Glancing past Arette Sedai, Sofia gazed on to the Council members from the shadows where she waited. They were free, but even the hesitation in Master Con's voice told her she waited too long. Her steps were not rushed, but she strolled over the beautifully pattered marbled floor towards those that were being healed. She place her hand on one that was of the oldests and freshly healed by the men of the Dragon's Tower. He tried to say something, but the look in the man's eyes were nearly unbearable. She gazed for a moment at the rest of the Council. Not one eye was filled with anger or Hate as she had seen on them the day she left. Remorse and sadeness within each of them.

 

"Shh.. " She soothed with a tone befitting a Mother soothing a young child after a night of dark dreams. "It would be best to be leaving the details to anouther time. Gentlemen, you had been under compulsion. A trick of the Dark One. But these men of the Dragon and the Light came to aid by my request. We be owing them a greater debt."

 

She paused in her small pretty speech. "There be a Forsaken among us, and she took my own appearance as a disguise. We have uprooted the Palace and are now are to strike back at her with the force of the Light. Join us, these men of the Dragon and the Light, and help us regain Illian for her People. For the Light." She watched them silently, waiting for anouther to speak so that they could move onward.

 

Light guide their swords, for Jav'aran will be dead before the night's end. Sofia swore to it.

 

 

 

 

 

Princess Sofia Stepanneos