moe-lazyeye

[moe-lazyeye]

Rhenco shriveled further under the intrusion of Liam's nature, as well as the despair caused by his own actions. "If I could take it back..." He shuddered, as he felt his very atoms reverberate under the entities scrutiny, a sensation that he alone had once held sovereignty over. "I'd...do...anything..."

The sound of his heart thundered and skipped through Liam ear, and he could passively detect the sensation of Rhenco's blood running thin in it's veins. Nausea and profuse sweating had taken the man, and at a glance Liam knew why.

The words Rhenco spoke were raw, and practically unintended. His mind was assaulted by the memories of the prime. How he had gleefully trapped the Warden, and forced words from her mouth by exposing her most inner thoughts and feelings...only he realize the dark craft he had concocted was a double edged sword, and he too was subject to the same, unfiltered vulnerability. A mistaken The Warden took lethal advantage of...

The flashed of his memories and thoughts dodged back and forth across Liam's awareness. Hel could see right through him...Liam could see right through him...a Norn violated every sense of security he had by plucking him from the timelines...and then...through his own blunder, a non-deity was able to call out his inner shame, and throw him to mercy of humanity.

One arm now curled around the severed head, and the other shielding his face, Rhenco's words were weak as he cowered under Liam. He tried to hide himself as if he were unworthy to be seen by him. "Stop..." He tried to convey. "Please...I cannot bear speaking to you like this. I can't help the words I say...the feelings I share. It makes me feel so sad-" He gaged. "I'm begging you...stay your primordial gaze, or leave me..."

Entrenched

On another battlefield far from the victorious Rebellion, the sun rose on another broken city: burst open like an infected pustule, its innards spread far and wide, but its crust remaining, huge sections of the earth's flesh jutting at odd angles, peeling open and outwards. It somewhat resembled a cannon blast shot into the southeastern city at a high angle, leaving an unfathomably deep circular chasm behind, and oddly enough, leaving a waning-moon slice of the city relatively untouched. The Triumvirate's towers watched the sun rise ominously, casting wide shadows and golden bands of light over High Central's chaos. Rebels were still alive, making hasty escapes out of the still-crumbling boroughs, extracting wounded, trying desperately to regroup and find out who was left.

The Tyrant Eternal was not dead, neither had she ascended. Not yet. In some decision with reasoning unknown to the Rebellion, she had not stood her ground. She had spiraled deep into the earth, and the noise of her escape had been long lost to mortal ears. But for one tiny figure, perched on a single agile cat's foot atop the spire of Kezia's former tower, she could be heard.

There was a purpose to not-Liam's current appearance, looking completely half-breed, short ears flicking back and forth, rubbing its stubbly chin, tail swishing as It balanced hundreds of feet off the ground with ease. Not only had the Tyrant escaped, she had broken the chains of Verðandi's Tomb and taken it with her. The timeline they currently all resided in had split off before Its own ascension in the Golden Timeline, which meant that the Tomb still held some measure of power, and neither It nor the Norns was positive on what that could be. Even if it wasn't a copy of Verðandi herself, if it was used offensively in any way, they could be dealing with another ascended Tyrant desperate to conquer the multiverse, or an explosion to literally tear a hole in the Loom twenty threads wide.

With a wick so short to a bomb so large, not-Liam had re-assumed Liam's mortal mantle for the time being. It did not want to alert Kezia to Its presence, and that was also why Urðr and Skuld were not assisting with the extraction, at Its own request. But this only made the task less hard, not more easy.

It sighed through Its nose in frustration, rubbing Its cheek and making Its light freckles warp and stretch with the movement. It had not yet figured out how to defuse the situation, and an unknown amount of time was running out. She had to be removed from the tunnel below without setting off the Tomb, and it had to be done before she learned how to complete her original mission of fusing herself to whatever amount of power remained inside. Closing Its eyes, It cast a mental net wide, awareness spreading, seeking knowledge, resources, anything.

[moe-lazyeye]

On the Horizon pt. 4 (botgd flashback)

Part 3

Orskaf's face became increasingly withdrawn and clouded. He spat off to the side, as if unaware that he was indoors, and muttered. "Imputant young'uns...talkin like am not here..."

Tal gave a careful exhale. "No...no that's quite alright. He and I will..." He hessiated, and then raised his voice a bit. "The Cheif requires me to prep his ship."

Orakaf's already partially closed eyes squinted further. "Yes..." He said, and then turned with a hiss. Without another word, he wandered out of the hall.

Tal was quick to trail behind him, as he briefly turned back to the other. "Please, continue on without us. I'll be back shortly...or moderately..."

[moe-lazyeye]

Blunt's mind had turned at Tezz's words.

He got them to safety? This area here? Portals...

It was far from a matter set in stone. But this was his first tangible clue as to where Akkey could have ended up. Portaling in and out of danger was something she was familiar with. So despite the devastation...he could work with this. He could have faith.

Then Tezz's request cracked through his consciousness, and Blunt's heart sank. He knew...he didn't want to admit it...but he knew. His injuries, his lethargy, his vitals. If Tezz fell alseep...that would be the end of it.

He sinched the extraction blanket he had used to support and dry off Tezz snugly around him, and lifted him like a bag of floure. Field treatment and stabilization wasn't helping. He needed the hospital station!

"I'm carrying you back, Eights!" Blunt hitched, as he began to run him through the swamp. "But you need to stay awake, you hear? You're hurt, and if you fall asleep, you won't wake up."

His feet thundered over the soggy grasslands, and he craddeled his head. "Clover still needs to see you...Melria and Will still need to see you..." He stumbled once as he pushed harder. "So stay up, buddy, stay up..."

Knells and Throes II

[prev]

"Yeah. I was there. I wish I could have been the one to end her. But, I'll take the consolation prize of getting everyone to safety." Tezz had fully slumped into Blunt, too exhausted to keep himself upright. "I'm sorry I couldn't get them into one spot, or at least closer together. A portal that large and summoned that quickly is hard to keep stable. But they had a better chance of surviving up here." The two of them sat a few moments in silence. Blunt's mind raced, unable to know for sure if this man would survive another night. He kept looking him over, trying to see if there was anything he could do. The soft, warm glow of the lantern flickered across the pair. Creatures of the night awoke and stirred around them.

Tezz's mind was preoccupied. There was so much he wished he could say right now, just in case he couldn't do it himself. No. I can't think like that. Not yet.

"Blunt?" Tezz's crackling voice broke the silence. "My eyes are getting heavy. Do you think you could carry me back, so I get a little rest?"

[moe-lazyeye]

"'Her' just got her head crushed like a fucking watermelon." Blunt told him. There was no way Tezz was dying or passing out before he heard that. Although he kept Clover's lack of moving on to himself, although he now felt a coil of shame for suggesting the very thing to her not that long ago.

"I think most everyone got out of the way of the explosion, though. Hardly anyone was in the rubble." Blunt shifted a bit to keep the man against his shoulder, and worked a lantern out of the pack to help them with warmth and light. "I've actually been finding more people in the further, usually soaking wet, outskirts...for some reason."

Knells and Throes

The setting sun painted the marshy plains surrounding, what was until recently, High Central with amber, gold, and pink hues. This closing of the fourth day since the fall of the Tyrant Eternal left the search and rescue teams of the rebellion to find fewer and fewer of the scattered survivors. A ragged gasp and a sputtering cough came from beneath the shelter of a lonely mangrove cluster. The body that produced it belonged to a broken, nearly spent Tezz as he awoke from a comatose state. Pain, echoing from his mind through to his very marrow, wracked his body. The effort of transporting every living person he could sense in High Central to safety caught up to him in his lucid state. He dwelled in this state for several minutes, slowly willing his aching body to move and sit up from the muck. With his hand he was able to grasp the nearby roots and pull himself mostly from the water. He heard the distant sloshing of someone in the area and looked to the encroaching darkness of dusk. Tezz attempted to summon a voice from his damaged lungs to call out, and like sparks on wet logs he could produce nothing but more coughs. Catching his breath again he sighed and leaned back against the tree, he hoped it was enough.

[moe-lazyeye]

Orskaf's airs stemmed in and out from his nose in even breaths as his eyes dragged over the group. The sword on the ground and Sven's words did seem to placate him to a degree, but he was still suspicious. "Take me hom'..." He finally said to Tal, although his defensive posture remained up.

"Erm..." Tal glanced from Orskaf's dagger, and then to Sven. "Of course...let's just...get you back to your quarters on the ship."

On the Horizon pt 3 (botgd flashback)

Part 2

Orakaf's breaths hissed out of his nose as he stared the group down, unflinching in the awkward silence. He shuddered again as he drew a wrist across the corner or his mouth.

As he stood over the others, something suddenly changed in Orakaf's eyes. The cloud of his mental decline lifted, replaced my the formerly sharp, watery gaze of a cheif...veteran...and man who was unmistakably unsafe to be near. "Central...is on the horizon. Our horizon...during my time at sea, I learned of their methods. Their plans are too secret to know. But the pattern of what they do is unmistakable."

Catching Sven and Hroar's gazes, he pushed himself away from the table, and stalked around the meeting table to approach them. A finger of warning lifted, as his head turned. "They slave. Meaning they have no appreciation for labor, and craftsmanship. Their lands are mined too deep...contraptions decorate their lands where cornerstones of villages should stand. They're arrogant, with magic that turns minds. They don't just want everyone to think, look, and act like them...they are preparing for something beyond this world...and a man would be wise to crush that kind of vermin the moment opportunity presented itself."

He rolled a tongue around in the corner of his mouth, squared his stance, and placed his hands behind his so. "So Chieftains...what lengths would you take? To subvert an enemy like that?"

[moe-lazyeye]

"Mining and lifting liquor barrels for twenty years." Blunt laughed as he held him close in turn, but could already feel his eyes beginning to tighten. "You should have seen me a few months ago, though. My gut used to be almost as wide as my shoulders." His face fell a little. "You've been gone a while buddy I...I had no idea you were alive."

He sniffed as he began to check him for injuries. "Clover...Melira...Will... I always made sure they were doing alright."

Knells and Throes

The setting sun painted the marshy plains surrounding, what was until recently, High Central with amber, gold, and pink hues. This closing of the fourth day since the fall of the Tyrant Eternal left the search and rescue teams of the rebellion to find fewer and fewer of the scattered survivors. A ragged gasp and a sputtering cough came from beneath the shelter of a lonely mangrove cluster. The body that produced it belonged to a broken, nearly spent Tezz as he awoke from a comatose state. Pain, echoing from his mind through to his very marrow, wracked his body. The effort of transporting every living person he could sense in High Central to safety caught up to him in his lucid state. He dwelled in this state for several minutes, slowly willing his aching body to move and sit up from the muck. With his hand he was able to grasp the nearby roots and pull himself mostly from the water. He heard the distant sloshing of someone in the area and looked to the encroaching darkness of dusk. Tezz attempted to summon a voice from his damaged lungs to call out, and like sparks on wet logs he could produce nothing but more coughs. Catching his breath again he sighed and leaned back against the tree, he hoped it was enough.

[moe-lazyeye]

"That's not true!" Orakaf yelled, and actually took a step forward in response to the groups defensive posturing. "An old man can't live in 'is own home safely. His own son leaves him ta wander in danger! You DO NOT tell me what to do!"

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." Tal stammered to those next to him, his face now flushed. "H-he isn't well.

On the Horizon pt 3 (botgd flashback)

Part 2

Orakaf's breaths hissed out of his nose as he stared the group down, unflinching in the awkward silence. He shuddered again as he drew a wrist across the corner or his mouth.

As he stood over the others, something suddenly changed in Orakaf's eyes. The cloud of his mental decline lifted, replaced my the formerly sharp, watery gaze of a cheif...veteran...and man who was unmistakably unsafe to be near. "Central...is on the horizon. Our horizon...during my time at sea, I learned of their methods. Their plans are too secret to know. But the pattern of what they do is unmistakable."

Catching Sven and Hroar's gazes, he pushed himself away from the table, and stalked around the meeting table to approach them. A finger of warning lifted, as his head turned. "They slave. Meaning they have no appreciation for labor, and craftsmanship. Their lands are mined too deep...contraptions decorate their lands where cornerstones of villages should stand. They're arrogant, with magic that turns minds. They don't just want everyone to think, look, and act like them...they are preparing for something beyond this world...and a man would be wise to crush that kind of vermin the moment opportunity presented itself."

He rolled a tongue around in the corner of his mouth, squared his stance, and placed his hands behind his so. "So Chieftains...what lengths would you take? To subvert an enemy like that?"

[moe-lazyeye]

Rhenco withered under the words and looked away as if he could hide inside himself. For a moment, Liam felt pungent, roiling hatred from him. Much it was born from the fear and loathing of the spirits that comprised Liam. But the diety could sense that, greater still, Rhenco hated him for simply being what he was:

Divinity he could not threaten. A being who had full, cosmic authority to say whatever I deemed to.

But at Liam's next words, Rhenco became uncertain, and his arms curled protectively around the head. The words the half breed once spoke, now carved into Rhenco's arms, enveloped it. Patches of the partial corpse had its fur faded or stroked to smooth skull from gestures of affection. It's deterioration expedited by a constant wash of tears cried over it.

Rhenco trembled as he shook his head, unable to look Liam in the eye. "I didn't know..." He said, the words finally serving as an answer to Liam's first question. "He spoke to me and I...I didn't realize...by the time I knew what the prime knew it...it was too late...he was already dead. So I just....stayed." He paused, and Liam saw the man look in the direction of what was once High Central. "And you? Something to do with -her-?"

Entrenched

On another battlefield far from the victorious Rebellion, the sun rose on another broken city: burst open like an infected pustule, its innards spread far and wide, but its crust remaining, huge sections of the earth's flesh jutting at odd angles, peeling open and outwards. It somewhat resembled a cannon blast shot into the southeastern city at a high angle, leaving an unfathomably deep circular chasm behind, and oddly enough, leaving a waning-moon slice of the city relatively untouched. The Triumvirate's towers watched the sun rise ominously, casting wide shadows and golden bands of light over High Central's chaos. Rebels were still alive, making hasty escapes out of the still-crumbling boroughs, extracting wounded, trying desperately to regroup and find out who was left.

The Tyrant Eternal was not dead, neither had she ascended. Not yet. In some decision with reasoning unknown to the Rebellion, she had not stood her ground. She had spiraled deep into the earth, and the noise of her escape had been long lost to mortal ears. But for one tiny figure, perched on a single agile cat's foot atop the spire of Kezia's former tower, she could be heard.

There was a purpose to not-Liam's current appearance, looking completely half-breed, short ears flicking back and forth, rubbing its stubbly chin, tail swishing as It balanced hundreds of feet off the ground with ease. Not only had the Tyrant escaped, she had broken the chains of Verðandi's Tomb and taken it with her. The timeline they currently all resided in had split off before Its own ascension in the Golden Timeline, which meant that the Tomb still held some measure of power, and neither It nor the Norns was positive on what that could be. Even if it wasn't a copy of Verðandi herself, if it was used offensively in any way, they could be dealing with another ascended Tyrant desperate to conquer the multiverse, or an explosion to literally tear a hole in the Loom twenty threads wide.

With a wick so short to a bomb so large, not-Liam had re-assumed Liam's mortal mantle for the time being. It did not want to alert Kezia to Its presence, and that was also why Urðr and Skuld were not assisting with the extraction, at Its own request. But this only made the task less hard, not more easy.

It sighed through Its nose in frustration, rubbing Its cheek and making Its light freckles warp and stretch with the movement. It had not yet figured out how to defuse the situation, and an unknown amount of time was running out. She had to be removed from the tunnel below without setting off the Tomb, and it had to be done before she learned how to complete her original mission of fusing herself to whatever amount of power remained inside. Closing Its eyes, It cast a mental net wide, awareness spreading, seeking knowledge, resources, anything.

[moe-lazyeye]

Orskaf's finger shot out at him. "I wasn't talkin to you! I don hav tah listen to you!" The man raged, as his eyes suddenly began to flicker with something new. Apprehension. "What are ya all sittin in here gawking fer? Get out! GET OUT!"

"Dad, dad it's the meeting." Tal tried. "See? They're all listening to you-"

"No they're not! No one listening to me! All the years ave been alive, and no one has any sense!"

For a second, Tal's jaw actually firmed up, and he placed his hands on his father's shoulders. "Now look, all these good men have been listening, and I think perhaps you may just need some rest-"

Orskaf struggled against his son's strength, which very rapidly gave way to him snapping a bite at him. "Get off me! Let me go! He should be locked up! You're lettin him run around like he wouldn't try an kill me again-!"

In a blink, Orsakf suddenly slipped from Tal's grasp, and branded the long knife he had formerly been on his belt.

On the Horizon pt 3 (botgd flashback)

Part 2

Orakaf's breaths hissed out of his nose as he stared the group down, unflinching in the awkward silence. He shuddered again as he drew a wrist across the corner or his mouth.

As he stood over the others, something suddenly changed in Orakaf's eyes. The cloud of his mental decline lifted, replaced my the formerly sharp, watery gaze of a cheif...veteran...and man who was unmistakably unsafe to be near. "Central...is on the horizon. Our horizon...during my time at sea, I learned of their methods. Their plans are too secret to know. But the pattern of what they do is unmistakable."

Catching Sven and Hroar's gazes, he pushed himself away from the table, and stalked around the meeting table to approach them. A finger of warning lifted, as his head turned. "They slave. Meaning they have no appreciation for labor, and craftsmanship. Their lands are mined too deep...contraptions decorate their lands where cornerstones of villages should stand. They're arrogant, with magic that turns minds. They don't just want everyone to think, look, and act like them...they are preparing for something beyond this world...and a man would be wise to crush that kind of vermin the moment opportunity presented itself."

He rolled a tongue around in the corner of his mouth, squared his stance, and placed his hands behind his so. "So Chieftains...what lengths would you take? To subvert an enemy like that?"

[moe-lazyeye]

"I'm telling yah to jus leave it alone!" Orskaf snapped, his withered body leaned over, and face oddly slack. It were as if his brief walk around the table had exhausted him, but didn't know how to let itself rest. The distance had returned to his eyes. Tal stood sullenly beside him, his posture displaced and his former optimism now gone.

"These kind of people kick out mongreuls for havin fur. They'll care or see retaliation whenever they wish."

"We shouldn't just turn a blind eye." Tal admonished.

"Then turn a seein one!" Orskaf retaliated. "But that wouldn't give yah the soft pillows to prop up yer feet, or tha extra lard you want to stuff yer fuckin face with, now would it!?"

On the Horizon pt 3 (botgd flashback)

Part 2

Orakaf's breaths hissed out of his nose as he stared the group down, unflinching in the awkward silence. He shuddered again as he drew a wrist across the corner or his mouth.

As he stood over the others, something suddenly changed in Orakaf's eyes. The cloud of his mental decline lifted, replaced my the formerly sharp, watery gaze of a cheif...veteran...and man who was unmistakably unsafe to be near. "Central...is on the horizon. Our horizon...during my time at sea, I learned of their methods. Their plans are too secret to know. But the pattern of what they do is unmistakable."

Catching Sven and Hroar's gazes, he pushed himself away from the table, and stalked around the meeting table to approach them. A finger of warning lifted, as his head turned. "They slave. Meaning they have no appreciation for labor, and craftsmanship. Their lands are mined too deep...contraptions decorate their lands where cornerstones of villages should stand. They're arrogant, with magic that turns minds. They don't just want everyone to think, look, and act like them...they are preparing for something beyond this world...and a man would be wise to crush that kind of vermin the moment opportunity presented itself."

He rolled a tongue around in the corner of his mouth, squared his stance, and placed his hands behind his so. "So Chieftains...what lengths would you take? To subvert an enemy like that?"

[moe-lazyeye]

One of the man's bare feet dragged itself a step away from the being, a light red stain trailing in the snow behind it. He sniffed once as he dashed a hand over his still weeping eyes, patches of his face raw from the motion.

"Do you have any idea...what you've done...?"

The words painted a picture before Liam's eyes, his divine cognition finding immediate understanding of the words.

Even though Rhenco had acknowledged him as Liam, in this moment, he spoke to the part of him that was Verdandi.

Millions of soul shards flew through the timelines at her command, briefly condensed into one, and then dispersed.

Every, single, Rhenco...was now painfully aware of their failure. In that moment, they saw the best and most dangerous of them lose. Saw his mind unwind. Saw his suffering. And most of all...they felt his fear, sorrow, and regret. They felt it all, with no lie or magic that could save them from feeling the same.

Liam then understood something that perhaps even Milae hadn't.

As far as Rhenco was concerned: his home timeline hadn't been golden because it mitigated the wide spread damage Rhenco was responsible for. It was golden because it crippled all of them across all universes...

Entrenched

On another battlefield far from the victorious Rebellion, the sun rose on another broken city: burst open like an infected pustule, its innards spread far and wide, but its crust remaining, huge sections of the earth's flesh jutting at odd angles, peeling open and outwards. It somewhat resembled a cannon blast shot into the southeastern city at a high angle, leaving an unfathomably deep circular chasm behind, and oddly enough, leaving a waning-moon slice of the city relatively untouched. The Triumvirate's towers watched the sun rise ominously, casting wide shadows and golden bands of light over High Central's chaos. Rebels were still alive, making hasty escapes out of the still-crumbling boroughs, extracting wounded, trying desperately to regroup and find out who was left.

The Tyrant Eternal was not dead, neither had she ascended. Not yet. In some decision with reasoning unknown to the Rebellion, she had not stood her ground. She had spiraled deep into the earth, and the noise of her escape had been long lost to mortal ears. But for one tiny figure, perched on a single agile cat's foot atop the spire of Kezia's former tower, she could be heard.

There was a purpose to not-Liam's current appearance, looking completely half-breed, short ears flicking back and forth, rubbing its stubbly chin, tail swishing as It balanced hundreds of feet off the ground with ease. Not only had the Tyrant escaped, she had broken the chains of Verðandi's Tomb and taken it with her. The timeline they currently all resided in had split off before Its own ascension in the Golden Timeline, which meant that the Tomb still held some measure of power, and neither It nor the Norns was positive on what that could be. Even if it wasn't a copy of Verðandi herself, if it was used offensively in any way, they could be dealing with another ascended Tyrant desperate to conquer the multiverse, or an explosion to literally tear a hole in the Loom twenty threads wide.

With a wick so short to a bomb so large, not-Liam had re-assumed Liam's mortal mantle for the time being. It did not want to alert Kezia to Its presence, and that was also why Urðr and Skuld were not assisting with the extraction, at Its own request. But this only made the task less hard, not more easy.

It sighed through Its nose in frustration, rubbing Its cheek and making Its light freckles warp and stretch with the movement. It had not yet figured out how to defuse the situation, and an unknown amount of time was running out. She had to be removed from the tunnel below without setting off the Tomb, and it had to be done before she learned how to complete her original mission of fusing herself to whatever amount of power remained inside. Closing Its eyes, It cast a mental net wide, awareness spreading, seeking knowledge, resources, anything.

[moe-lazyeye]

"Like a terrible terror nibbling at the heels of a green death." Orsakf said with a 'bah,' as he turned to pace back towards his son. "Even all of us banded as one would be crushed after a moments detection, at the first opportunity...it's what I would do in their boots."

His boney hand reached out to yank the chair Tal had formally been seated in and plopped himself down. "All we have left...is to subvert...and preserve." He sniffed. "We aren't their focus, or target anyway."

On the Horizon pt 3 (botgd flashback)

Part 2

Orakaf's breaths hissed out of his nose as he stared the group down, unflinching in the awkward silence. He shuddered again as he drew a wrist across the corner or his mouth.

As he stood over the others, something suddenly changed in Orakaf's eyes. The cloud of his mental decline lifted, replaced my the formerly sharp, watery gaze of a cheif...veteran...and man who was unmistakably unsafe to be near. "Central...is on the horizon. Our horizon...during my time at sea, I learned of their methods. Their plans are too secret to know. But the pattern of what they do is unmistakable."

Catching Sven and Hroar's gazes, he pushed himself away from the table, and stalked around the meeting table to approach them. A finger of warning lifted, as his head turned. "They slave. Meaning they have no appreciation for labor, and craftsmanship. Their lands are mined too deep...contraptions decorate their lands where cornerstones of villages should stand. They're arrogant, with magic that turns minds. They don't just want everyone to think, look, and act like them...they are preparing for something beyond this world...and a man would be wise to crush that kind of vermin the moment opportunity presented itself."

He rolled a tongue around in the corner of his mouth, squared his stance, and placed his hands behind his so. "So Chieftains...what lengths would you take? To subvert an enemy like that?"

[moe-lazyeye]

On the Horizon pt 3 (botgd flashback)

Part 2

Orakaf's breaths hissed out of his nose as he stared the group down, unflinching in the awkward silence. He shuddered again as he drew a wrist across the corner or his mouth.

As he stood over the others, something suddenly changed in Orakaf's eyes. The cloud of his mental decline lifted, replaced my the formerly sharp, watery gaze of a cheif...veteran...and man who was unmistakably unsafe to be near. "Central...is on the horizon. Our horizon...during my time at sea, I learned of their methods. Their plans are too secret to know. But the pattern of what they do is unmistakable."

Catching Sven and Hroar's gazes, he pushed himself away from the table, and stalked around the meeting table to approach them. A finger of warning lifted, as his head turned. "They slave. Meaning they have no appreciation for labor, and craftsmanship. Their lands are mined too deep...contraptions decorate their lands where cornerstones of villages should stand. They're arrogant, with magic that turns minds. They don't just want everyone to think, look, and act like them...they are preparing for something beyond this world...and a man would be wise to crush that kind of vermin the moment opportunity presented itself."

He rolled a tongue around in the corner of his mouth, squared his stance, and placed his hands behind his so. "So Chieftains...what lengths would you take? To subvert an enemy like that?"

[moe-lazyeye]

With an almost audible distortion, Blunt's vision tilted as the blood drained from his face. For a moment, his mind blatantly told him that this must be a trick. It must be a lie.

But the sight of him...the injuries...the knowledge he was likely already too late...that perhaps it had been too late for a long time now...the knowledge of Clover, and Merlira...twenty years...

God...what have they done to you...?

No...this was too terrible to not be true.

With a jolt Blunt's weary body sprung to life. The pack was flung to the nearest dry patch of land and, a moment later, Blunt's strong arms caught Tezz up, and pulled him from the mud, and towards the pack as carefully as he could manage.

"Yeah buddy, I have food and water." Once he had laid him down, he tore the pack open to produce a drinking canteen. "Hold still. I'm gonna get you out of here."

Knells and Throes

The setting sun painted the marshy plains surrounding, what was until recently, High Central with amber, gold, and pink hues. This closing of the fourth day since the fall of the Tyrant Eternal left the search and rescue teams of the rebellion to find fewer and fewer of the scattered survivors. A ragged gasp and a sputtering cough came from beneath the shelter of a lonely mangrove cluster. The body that produced it belonged to a broken, nearly spent Tezz as he awoke from a comatose state. Pain, echoing from his mind through to his very marrow, wracked his body. The effort of transporting every living person he could sense in High Central to safety caught up to him in his lucid state. He dwelled in this state for several minutes, slowly willing his aching body to move and sit up from the muck. With his hand he was able to grasp the nearby roots and pull himself mostly from the water. He heard the distant sloshing of someone in the area and looked to the encroaching darkness of dusk. Tezz attempted to summon a voice from his damaged lungs to call out, and like sparks on wet logs he could produce nothing but more coughs. Catching his breath again he sighed and leaned back against the tree, he hoped it was enough.

[moe-lazyeye]

Tired and sore from his head to toes, Blunt Donz trudged through the myer. A hand worked to the bone clung to a rope tied sack of emergency supplies over his shoulder. The lowering light reflected off his distant, almost flat gaze.

His immediate pursuit of just finding Akkey had been abandoned when he crossed the first victim of war partially trapped under rubble. After that rescue, he started as close to the center of the area as he could and circled outward from there. He remembered a time in his life he would have just prioritized his own needs. A part of him wished he had retained some of that selfishness.

But such things had been thrown away, like valuables into the sea, a long time ago. Now, he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he chose to just walk past someone he could have helped. He scoffed. Hel, not long ago, he wouldn't have been in good enough shape to do all this.

As it turned out, actually addressing his past, and Rhenco's looming threat had been good for a few things: Blunt was more sober than not now, and gotten back on track with his health. And so he circled...and circled...and circled...for days.

Far past whirlwind thoughts and mostly conscious movement, Blunt trudged along like a machine with only a single, practically thoughtless task series: find, extract, stabilize.

But at the barest ghost of a noise...someone broke through the haze of his mind. He saw, like most he had found, a partially obscured form.

A form marred and twisted nearly beyond recognition...

Nearly...

Blunt fell still, and then slowly lowered the bag to his side as he took one, and then several more steps over to Tezz's side. His expression shifted from blank to stunned as he spoke a single word in a voice horse from shouting.

"Eights?"

Knells and Throes

The setting sun painted the marshy plains surrounding, what was until recently, High Central with amber, gold, and pink hues. This closing of the fourth day since the fall of the Tyrant Eternal left the search and rescue teams of the rebellion to find fewer and fewer of the scattered survivors. A ragged gasp and a sputtering cough came from beneath the shelter of a lonely mangrove cluster. The body that produced it belonged to a broken, nearly spent Tezz as he awoke from a comatose state. Pain, echoing from his mind through to his very marrow, wracked his body. The effort of transporting every living person he could sense in High Central to safety caught up to him in his lucid state. He dwelled in this state for several minutes, slowly willing his aching body to move and sit up from the muck. With his hand he was able to grasp the nearby roots and pull himself mostly from the water. He heard the distant sloshing of someone in the area and looked to the encroaching darkness of dusk. Tezz attempted to summon a voice from his damaged lungs to call out, and like sparks on wet logs he could produce nothing but more coughs. Catching his breath again he sighed and leaned back against the tree, he hoped it was enough.

[moe-lazyeye]

"Dad it's just bussiness-"

"Ah could care less what you choose to do with whoever stumbles over yar boarder." Orsakf shot back, clearly beginning to work from up anger, to a frenzy. "But talk of trade with any of Central is madness. Foot the bill yarselves if ya hav such bleedin harts!"

He flung out a hand, the motion nearly colliding with Tal's face. "My village have non of it! And I'll kill any high falutin fascists, or tail sproutin savage that you send my way!"

On the Horizon pt 2 (botgd flashback)

Part 1

Orskaf's knee jerked under the table as his face twitched. But his mouth would not cooperate with what his mind wanted to say.

"Of course," Tal then offered. "Even the best of us occasionally face hardship during difficult winters, crop failures, and untamed dragon packs pillaging livestock. A massive influx of asylum seekers could tip this balance for the worse." He held up a finger. "But even though more people means more mouths to feed, it also means more people to work together."

"The concept of make or break." Another Chief summarized. "A highly individualized situation depending on where you are, and what is available to you. For example, Chief Tal, your lumber export is highly sought for, and I'm certain extra hands to chop timber, and craft vessels would be welcome. But your rocky coast has next to no additional room for farming, sheep herding, or camps. Whereas my grasslands village has room to spare, but significantly less resources."

"Precisely," Tal stated. "Humanitarian aid will work well for some, but be burdensome to others. But why have us foot the bill either way, when Central is the one deporting these masses to our boarders? Obviously we can't demand anything of Central. But we could acquire some of their revenue by other, more orderly, means."

[moe-lazyeye]

"Clear the wax from yer ears!" Orskaf snapped at him. "Just keep to yer selves, don take their coin, and tell any vagrant ya can't put ta work to move on."

"Dad..." Tal tried again.

"After everthin ahv done..." Orskaf said in a grave voice, as he trembling head turned his way. "Everythin I've work for...and you intive em to our door! For what?!

On the Horizon pt 2 (botgd flashback)

Part 1

Orskaf's knee jerked under the table as his face twitched. But his mouth would not cooperate with what his mind wanted to say.

"Of course," Tal then offered. "Even the best of us occasionally face hardship during difficult winters, crop failures, and untamed dragon packs pillaging livestock. A massive influx of asylum seekers could tip this balance for the worse." He held up a finger. "But even though more people means more mouths to feed, it also means more people to work together."

"The concept of make or break." Another Chief summarized. "A highly individualized situation depending on where you are, and what is available to you. For example, Chief Tal, your lumber export is highly sought for, and I'm certain extra hands to chop timber, and craft vessels would be welcome. But your rocky coast has next to no additional room for farming, sheep herding, or camps. Whereas my grasslands village has room to spare, but significantly less resources."

"Precisely," Tal stated. "Humanitarian aid will work well for some, but be burdensome to others. But why have us foot the bill either way, when Central is the one deporting these masses to our boarders? Obviously we can't demand anything of Central. But we could acquire some of their revenue by other, more orderly, means."