#akanis.troupe 2

[princemordecai]

With respect, Leander clasped Akanis on the shoulder as the weave he'd meticulously crafted dissipated into the air. "Magic's a fickle bitch, isn't it?" He was a man who could conjure a thousand ways to end a life, but when it came to preserving one, his expertise was sorely lacking. His advice on the matter was as straightforward as it was limited - consult the elvhen. The intricacies of weaves flowed differently through elvhen veins, and while Leander could learn through keen observation, Akanis would need to navigate his abilities through a different path. "Bring your gold," Leander smirked, his voice laced with a rough edge. "The drow don't train anyone for free."

For a brief moment, Leander's typically prickly demeanor softened as he cast a glance back toward the smoldering city of Aventia. The siege was unyielding, a relentless force that seemed to know no end. For now, there was a lull in the chaos, a fleeting opportunity to catch their breath before the next wave of violence crashed upon them tonight. "Back inside!" Leander commanded the troops, his voice carrying the weight of his authority and the promise of respite. "We've earned a break before the next wave of cock-sucking bastards shows up."

Years of practice? He spent years of enduring his flame and it hadn’t gotten him any closer. But he had never sought an understanding of his power never learnt to accept but fear it with the respect it deserved. His face sunk as he watched Leander manipulate the weave. While it was far beyond his comprehension it was beautiful. He appreciated the display but there was no way he would be able to accomplish such a feat Leander was far more proficient with the weave than Akanis ever will be.

“Yes, it does.” It was a rhetorical question but he wanted to answer anyway even if it was blatantly obvious after that fight. “I may give the drow you mentioned a try.” Yes they were more brutal then the Elvhen but at least with the drow he hadn’t been thrown out of their society at birth. Akanis has and always feel awkward around Elvhen even if they are sliver. He was deprived of knowing that part of him, he actually never meet his parents doesn’t even know their names.

[princemordecai]

The weapon Leander had secured with a pact materialized in his hand, threads wove together and formed the longsword, a marvel of draconic craftsmanship.

"Commander." Leander corrected, though there was a mirth to it as he continued to contest the title prince and royalty. He was so much more than his birthright and every moment he spent in the field was meant to be a testament to that. Nepotism hadn't made him the leader of these forces, birthright had nothing to do with it; Leander was a seasoned veteran and a Warrior of Mars - war was what he was best at.

Akanis moved with deft precision, landing strike after strike in a flurry of flames that rippled through the air. Heat permeated from below and Leander moved to meet the ogre eye to eye. There was nothing but rage within them and hatred, unlike anything Leander had ever seen.

So, this was the face of the blight?

"You couldn't possibly be any fucking uglier, could you?" The ogre roared in his face as it buckled to its knees, like lightning cracking through the ozone, Leander swung his blade as the reach burned and increased in length. What was once a monstrosity was now a beheaded brute, the blade had cauterized the flesh as Leander had swooped in, but blood still oozed from the wounds that had been charred black. "Dawn is breaking, we have a few hours to rest. At ease."

Not many people knew that his body was being consumed in order to be in this form. He made sure to keep it secret from many, her majesty knew what the cost was if only because Akanis fought by her side on many accounts. On this battle he stood beside her son, a capable warrior, a capable leader. It was a shame he’d be unable to ascend to the throne. Akanis would be proud to protect him, lay his life down for the other.

He couldn’t believe that an Ogre was before them. Snaggled teeth jutting out from the mouth of the creature. Seeing Leander ready for the challenge spurred him on. “Low your highness.” He was trying to catch whatever air was available before they charged the dark head on. Anakis would have to make sure he got back to the safety of the line before his flames needed reigniting. He’d need a brake soon also take care of his burns before they were infected but for right now he could take this ogre with Leander.

Moving forward he started to clear a portion of the way closer to the large creature. As they reached it he manoeuvre himself to behind its knees, using hellfire strikes his fists moved unnaturally fast. One, two, three, four, five, six and seven landed on the back of the creatures knee joint, it stumbled and ended up taking a knee hopefully this would help his highness who was going high.

[princemordecai]

There'd been so much back and forth the last few months. Lines of morality between what was right and what was wrong - when his mother sent him to Astoria it had been to butcher witch killers and make them suffer for what they'd done to people like him. The Vanguard were nothing but cowards plucking infantile, untrained witches - when confronted with the weight of the Tower it had been vindicating to watch them shrink. It didn't negate the losses, the things Leander had done, and the people he'd hurt. There would never be a night when he did not hear their screams, or the smell the afterburn of a witch's pyre.

Leander's death toll piled higher until he stood on a mountain of men and women who'd been on the wrong side of his lionhearted fists. This stench of blight, the twisted frames of the darkspawn as the marrow of their bones rolled to a boil. This wasn't difficult, none of it was, the Astorians made it easy for Leander to want them dead. The darkspawn too. A pulse reverberated from Leander's frame as those that closed in were knocked back, engulfed the Centurion's flames. He heard the howls of Akanis' latest victim and acknowledged the Queensguard's strength - Arethusa chose well.

Linked together with his fellow Olympians, he felt more power flowing into him than anyone should ever wield. But witches were not unlimited wells to draw from and the risk of his contemporaries burning out was far greater than his own. This battle wouldn't end in a night, the siege would be counted in weeks - maybe months. At least until they could understand who or what was at the center of all this. The lives of those in Aventia mattered more to him than anything else.

As the ogre rose on the horizon, a deep laugh rumbled from Leander's chest. "Finally things are getting interesting." Proud words punctuated playfully as the Prince cracked his neck on either side before he asked, "High or Low, Akanis?"

Everything that Akanis thought had meaning, every hope, dream or moment of happiness. None of it matters as he faced the darkspawn. None of it changes what a blade does to a body. We all die. Does that mean lives are meaningless? Does that mean there was no point in being born? Would he say that of his slain comrades? What about their lives? Were they meaningless?

They were not! Their memory serves as an example to him. The courageous fallen, the anguished fallen. Their live have meaning because the living, refuse to forget them. And as they pushed against the darkspwan, we trust those who come after to do the same. Akanis would not buckle or yield when faced with the cruelty of this world. He would push forward! He would scream out! He would rage!

Step by step the ground sizzled. Marks of their progress scarred into the ground. The other Olympians could keep these creatures of the dark at arms reach, it was far more personal for them as the rot would meet their knuckles. They would look darkness in the eye and deny its progress. Taking another step Akanis consumed a darkspawn. It’s skin melting like candle wax, reaching inside pinching at the corner of it forehead the skink came away like the hard shell of a toasted marshmallow. Blood, sinew stretching to follow its face as it was discarded on the floor. While it crumbled within the changeling Akanis pointed out what was to come “your highness…” ogre’s.

[princemordecai]

These skirmishes were endless, the darkspawn and their forces seemingly limitless. Leander had fought the Vanguard for a decade and knew what it meant to stand on a blood-soaked battlefield. These things were different though, they fought without any fear or consideration for their lives. Each one with the strength of two, bleeding their rotted blood and spilling it fervently across the ground.

Leander was not an heir, the title of Prince was performative. He was not the daughter that could someday lead, he was the son that would forever remain the Mordecai family's lionhearted warrior. Golden flames burned at his palms as he landed beside Akanis, eager to fight at the Queensguard's side as he basked idly in the radiant heat that bore into the air - pulsing from the blazing warrior.

"Drive them back!" Came the Centurion commanded the forces around them. The Lysarans in a tight line, pressed their advantage as the darkspawn fell upon them wave after wave. Reduced to ashes and little else, anyone nearby would see the hateful grin on Leander's face - amid such carnage, Leander was at home.

The changeling had come to this onslaught with a sense of retribution. The life he could have had in Avalon if the blight wasn’t in his veins. The people who would have drawn breath fuelled each step he took towards what will become a graveyard. A finale resting place for many.

There was a notion, a misguided belief that he’d be able to make a difference without the flames. Was it pride? Or not wanting to rely on what had gotten him this far? Either way it was foolish, a belief that should be saved for more peaceful times. The darkspawn were relentless, droves and droves of them spilled onto the battlefield, did they have an end?

No matter how many Akanis dispatch twice as many would take their place. Blighted blood dripped from his knuckles like sand in an hourglass. Suddenly he was overwhelmed, one had got behinds him, in a panic he was on the floor thinking this would be the last he would see.

The tainted soil wet beneath his fingers he grasped for his blade. The blade seemed impossibly far way in the moment, even if it was realistically beside him. His eyes closed accepting what was to come. Smoke filled his lungs, the smell of putrid flesh being burned was a welcome relief. As his eyes opened he saw the Prince for all he was.

The Prince wasn’t leaving anything to chance, so why was he? Leander was a beacon, a shining example. What good was nobility, honour, restraint against the dark spawn? The high road was useless here, the only road that mattered was one that lead to survival.

Hearing the command rain down Akanis got to his feet. The blade no more of a concern in his mind. Burst into an inferno, he was the flame, the flames were him it was time to purify what dwelled in the dark. Side stepping a sweeping blade Akanis held the head of a herlock and granted them oblivion. He was now holding his part of the line waiting for Leanders next command.