Guardians of Enthia -- Chapter VI

The council that had gathered in Enthia two mornings after the death of Hrong was a site to behold. The Pillar of Time's conference chambers were likely the biggest in the Region of Spring, yet their walls could still barely hold the mass amount of people that had gathered inside.

Among many unknown men, there were many familiars. Alongside King Galacath of Enthia was King Heirut of Eyrica, and near King Heirut's side was the now knighted Sir Yui, who was to be given formal praises at this council. On the other side of Galacath, there was the High Society of Enthia who were in attendance: Kalykus, Dorido, Amani, and Vaas. Out in the crowd, there was Captain Warius with his friend Aladicci, and her guard, the Wolf. Not in attendance but nearby was Alistair, who sat at, interestingly enough, the Brothers Farmsworth.

After a long state of unrest the crowd was called to attention by the sounding of the bell, and those who could sat while the rest stood among the outside railings. Galacath, as natural, was the first to speak.

“As I am sure you have all known as of now, my good friend King Heirut was attacked in his own castle.”

“Aye,” the other king said, “I would've been shot with the arrow as well if it were not for the honorable acts of the late Hrong Golddriver and Yui Staav.” At this moment, Yui took his knights vows, the Ribbon of Courage, and then went back to his seat.

“We believe we do know what could be the source of these attacks.” Kalykus began, standing up to address all in attendance. “For a long time now, the Enthian Royal Scholars have noticed a strange increase of activity in the Falls of Anguish, as well as decaying crops and sickly animals near the former roots of the Great Tree.”

Aladicci whispered to her nearby friend, “The Great Tree, doesn't that mean-” She was interrupted by Kalykus' continued speech.

“If what all the signs pointed to what we believe to be true, then this world is in great danger. This attack – it is the first of the signs that we have to take action.”

“Kalykus, we have ignored your calls for assistance, but no longer,” The Enthian Monarch began to speak again, “The armies of the Groundlands, and hopefully the world, will be here to defend our home if it comes to it.”

A conclusion was held, and people began to leave. The Warius party met nearby at a nearby bench to debrief what they've heard.

“If it's true, your visit is going to be a lot shorter than we originally thought.” Warius began, “Your father will call you back to Acadia, and I will likely be drafted to lead the Skyranger out into fighting.”

“I don't believe so; in fact, I may be able to draw my father's attention to this matter. If it is as serious as it seems, which it does seem like it, he'll be a fool to not trust it. My father is not a fool.”

“Still, Akira is not that far away. He'll call you back to your home so you'll be protected.”

“Then I'll hide on the Skyranger among the world's best captain and the Martyr of Blackboar. There's no stopping me.”

“My lady,” the grizzled veteran chimed in, “please, here what I must say: as my number one goal is to make sure of your protection here in the North, I implore you that, if it comes down to it, you follow your father's orders and return to your home.”

Now the daughter of the Desert King seemed to be noticeably agitated. “Ifs, whats, whens and thens – none of it matters now. We'll decide upon it when it happens.” Seeing that the young girl was no longer interested in council, the two men gave up and began the trip back to their headquarters.

At a nearby pub, a newly honored member of the King's Guard sat at the seat next to a man who looked awfully similar to him and began the following conversation.

“So, did getting suspended work out for you like you thought it would?”

“Oh stuff off, you cunt.”

“Good things happen to good people in the end, you should know that.”

“Oh, whatever.”

The two continued their conversation and life in Enthia continued as it always did, the people unknowing of the things that were happening below.


---

Twitter: @CodexofAegis
Facebook: facebook.com/CodexofAegis 

Cycles

“Hey, you alright?”

“Fine, I'm... I'm j-just fine.”

“Good, good. Yeah, the first time is always a bit rough, but you'll learn to get used to it.”

Perhaps “a bit rough” was a considerable understatement, if the chunks of old pork and the pool of straight vomit that came from the rookie had anything to say. But the “get used to it”? No, that was just fine. The rookie himself would learn soon enough that a job this dirty has a noticeable touch of negativity associated with it, a negativity that, in order to pull of this job perfectly, would need to be saved for a later time at a later date – or even better, not at all.

The other man – I'd call him a veteran, but that would be a sin – sat placidly in the opposite corner, making sure the rookie's excrements wouldn't reach his mousse boots. This annoyed the rookie to a point that could not be described on paper, but for the sake of good will he kept his mouth shut.

As for the job, it had been cleaned up fairly well by this point. The job a crime, the crime a murder – something I'm sure you picked up on your own, but for the sake of our audience who needs a little guidance, I'll put in a few words and paint a picture; a flash, a bang, a fountain of blood. You see, a picture has never hurt anyone, but a gun sure has. At least a man with a gun. But when the man with a gun has no motivation besides a vague promise of money and a chance to be something bigger than himself, he gets a little woozy. So please take this: don't insult the guy who has done something you've never tried.

The man in mousse began to pick the other up from the ground due to the status of time. Though despite what the rookie said only moments ago, it seemed that his physical state deemed the opposite: the thousand yard stare and the thousand ton clench.

“What? Something wrong?”

And despite the fact that this was only the simplest of variations to something that was also said only moments ago, this time the rookie opened up. His hands – that momentarily stopped clenching, yet still continuing the shake – made their way to his shirt pocket, and it was from there that out came a simple polaroid.

“This was in her pocket.”

The man took it, and smiled. This was a picture of a man of unknown origin, and a woman that once was. Perhaps not as exciting or colorful as the other image, but interesting nonetheless.

“Well, young love. It happens, don't worry.”

“Check the back.”

The back he checked, and unfortunately it lead to his hypothesis being incorrect; for instead of “boyfriend”, it read “brother”.

Some tend to forget that, just as there is a circle of life, that there is a circle of death – and this circle of death lies inside one of the greatest human imperfections. Some people chase the killer's of their loved ones to the tips of the earth – others beg, and whine, and cry, and wait for something to be done while things never change. But few can recognize that neither of these paths lead to anything better, and though the man holding the picture was wise, nor experienced, nor even that intelligent, he knew this simple fact.

But the rookie had already chosen his path, even as he was meant to be the destination. The gun was cocked once again, the man heard it loud and clear – and to make it even more obvious, it was pointed right at him as he looked up.

“Listen, I know your frustrated. I was too, but right now you just need to listen to me.”

What's the similarity between a cranky child and a man with a gun? Neither one can be reasoned with.

By the time the man realized his mistake, it was too late. Too little had been put into thought, and too much pressure had been put into the trigger. Just like a circle, it happened all over again.

A flash.

A bang.

A fountain of blood.

But this wasn't the blood of the man. To confirm this, he looked at himself and found it to be true; but it was only until he looked at the rookie that once was, that realized exactly what had happened.

Impressively, the rookie had stopped the cycle in the way no one else had thought of. Indeed, he stopped the infamous circle of death, and although the feelings of the brother to this situation is debatable, it seemed that this time it worked out for the good of the whole.

But let's not forget: this is a job.

The cycle would continue as it always had, and although the rookie put a stop in the gear, it is a gear that has an engineering failure. Would the gears ever stop turning? Perhaps not. Perhaps just like there must always be a cycle of life, there will always be a cycle of death.


---

Twitter: @CodexofAegis
Facebook: facebook.com/CodexofAegis 

Guardians of Enthia -- Chapter V

An Eyrican we all know by now slugged and slooped as his dreary eyes looked onward toward the castle of his king. His senses were temporarily excited when he heard the boards of the watchtower creak, but ceased once he heard the voice belonging to it.

“Alistair?”

“No, the other one.”

The figure had finally climbed its way to the top of the tower along with Yui; a bald man with a red beard and a glass eye that seemed that it was once the target of an agile blade.

“Ah! Your his brother, is you not?”

“Yup, that's right.”

“Heh, probably out on his suspension because of his little trip to the prostitute house. Damned bug, that one is.”

“At least we can agree on something.”

“I was the one that reported to Monty you see, wanted to get him what he deserved, yeah?”

“I take that back, I hate you too.”

The two did not talk up until a peculiar incident only a few minutes later, in which a strikingly black figure seemed to make its way to the castle.

“Eh, Hrong,” the older Staav began, “you see that guy come in?”

“Y-yeah?”

“King doesn't have anybody on his place today, does he?”

“N-...”

Upon their sudden revelation, the two brought their weapons and hurried down the tower towards the castle.

Inside, the court was in session; ironically about cutting the city guard. King Heirut sat at his throne in the center of it all, clearly bored from the talks of the officials.

Hrong and Yui let out a cry to get the officials out of the building, while they looked for the one in black. It was when Heirut himself however began to make his leave, that a figure appeared out of the dust with a bow ready.

“King!”

The bow's twine was released, its arrow striking the Eyrican that got in the way. The figure itself, realizing its failure, disappeared once more.

Yui moved towards his fallen comrade, noticing that the arrow had hit it's accidental mark sharply. Hrong was already dead.


---

Twitter: @CodexofAegis
Facebook: facebook.com/CodexofAegis 

Hinterkaifeck

There is a time in a man's life where he should look upon his sins, and ask forgiveness of those he had sinned against.

Hryoan Dravstei could not.

After the waking memory of waking, and of getting dressed, taking a shower, sitting down for breakfast, and then dosing off from lack of sleep, he could not begin to think of a situation in which he could get from there to being leaned against the rough oak, a pocket knife in his hand, and the body of a young woman with her blood spilled on the snow in front of him, as he was now.

And so in his horrid panic he could not think of what case he would have of forgiving, as the blonde, lifeless head that stared into him he did not recognize, nor the pocket knife, nor the rough oak that he leaned against.

Hryoan, who henceforth shall be known as Hry for simplicity, got up from the seated position and in his shock dropped the knife from his hand. Upon hitting the white ground, the knife disrupted the blank slate by adding a splatter of red to the canvas. This did not help Hry in calming his nerves.

He looked about him. Trees, bushes, all of which he could not recognize. To his north east the ground began a steady increase of height, and so in decision he decided to run towards the elevation in the Earth.

But his running did not last long, as he once again stopped to realize that the knife was not the only painter. No, for now the very shoes which he ran with left dots of a harsher fate across his path. Seeing as normal holes were better than death holes, he took off his boots and left them behind, hoping no one who came would have the ingenuity to follow the path of a different color.

As it had turned out though, taking off shoes in at approximately negative twenty degrees did not help the human body. Poor Hry! By the time he got at the top of the hill, he was desperately hoping for there to be some sign of civilization. Whether due to a good fate, a good god, or just a writer's sake of convenience, there lay a diner near the long road that connected city and city. Besides that, there was nothing but the same forest he had been traveling to this point.

In the interest of time he made it to that diner, which in every step closer seemed more and more appetizing. Although it was only as he entered the door he recalled that state that he had been in only moments ago, and how during this, the count of inventory only tallied one bloody knife, one unfortunate soul, and a pair of soles that needed desperate cleaning. No where on this inventory at the time, or indeed now, included money.

However the owner, noticing his current state, weakened to him; much so that it only took a few minutes of pleading for her to finally allow the man a meal.

It seemed as though this would be the first break he would get in his journey to figure out what happened, he sat eagerly to a meal of steak and eggs. Unfortunately, there would be no journey – as only minutes after he had begun to indulge the door rang, followed by the footsteps of two police officers.


---

Twitter: @CodexofAegis
Facebook: facebook.com/CodexofAegis 

LEVIATHAN 001

Leviathan Tape 001
Date: Unknown
Location: New York, United States

Transcript:

I think the first episode was about... mid to late October of that year. It was early in the morning, and I was bringing Chloe out on a walk – we always go out on walks around that time, we go to the park. We'll stay for about an hour – Chloe would play with the other dogs and I would sit reading a book. But by the time I got there things... just felt weird. I was really lightheaded, so I let Chloe run off while I made my way to the bench. My eyelids got heavier and heavier, and... really the last thing I heard was Chloe barking.

...About two hours had passed, I think, until I was woken up by a concerned policeman. He woke me up saying, something like, “Ma'am, I noticed you've been sleeping on this bench for awhile and I thought something might be wrong. Is anything wrong?” And I told him the truth, told him I couldn't remember. So he drove me down to the hospital... the doctors did some tests, and they couldn't really figure out what was wrong with me. They decided to set an appointment with a specialist. And yet, as I walked out of the hospital, a question began to creep its way into my head... where was Chloe?
 

81st Avenue

The residents of 81^st avenue were, in lack of a better word, befuddled on the morning of August 24^th. It was only around 5 when the sirens first roared to life, and although most were already up, they had only just begun to prepare their morning routine.

One by one the skeptical folk opened their doors and windows to see what was going on, and upon learning the truth contorted their faces in horror.

For there, where some knew the Harrison's lived, was a line of 3 tactical SWAT vans. And slowly, those vans released people, men and women who wore the SWAT badge and covered themselves in ballistic armor.

But something wasn't right, for Lars Mikelsen, who lived directly across from the Harrison's, knew that the Harrison household consisted of an elderly couple and occasionally a 6 year old grandson. So, he questioned to himself, why were they there?

The answer came to him in the form of three body bags.

To the others, the bags came to a more simple yet all the same horrifying conclusion. Once the bags were safely carried out from the house by a group of men in hazmat suits, the brute force entered. Then, silence.

By this point the entire street had at least one member of each household out, surveying the house from however far away and keeping quiet. A few had tried to get close to ask what was happening, only to be turned around.

Finally, the door opened.

The subsequent rush was too great for anyone to actually get a good glimpse of what happened, but immediately people were ordered to be evacuated. As people left with what little they could carry, a series of various government vehicles rolled by, consisting of Homeland Security, DEA, CDC, and many more.

Those who remember the disintegration of 81^st avenue, in which many do not, have no idea exactly what passed through that door. There was one who did claim to see it, however; a man named Lars Mikelsen. In a local newspaper interview on the incident some 5 years after it happened, Lars claims he saw only one man come out of the home, covered in a shiny, black sludge.

Mikelsen passed away 7 days later.


---

Twitter: @CodexofAegis
Facebook: facebook.com/CodexofAegis 

Guardians of Enthia -- Chapter IV

(View the Guardians of Enthia page for a complete list of all chapters so far.)

The first stop on Zeroi's grand trip was probably the most popular tavern in all of Enthia: The Brothers Farmsworth. Though this perhaps was the best decision Zeroi would have the knowledge of making, in retrospect it was a pretty lackluster idea. More so, he decided to go in still wearing his High Society regalia.

If it wasn't already assumed, High Society members are not exactly welcome at the tavern. In a world full of pirates, displaced convicts, and men with fairly shady personalities, you could see how a man such as Zeroi would not be welcomed; and he was not.

From the very moment he walked in, scowls and angry looks stared into him. As he moved down the hall to the center more and more looks were given, and turn the halls grew more and more quiet. The tavernkeeper himself sulked back, not wanting to be responsible over whatever was to happen next.

“Hello, I am here-”

The young elf was stopped by a sharp shot of spit onto his forehead by a buccaneer who was interested in hearing no more.

“Har, shihnty! Ya think we're gonna lissen to you?”

'Shinty' being a very profane, derogatory word for elf, you can see how Zeroi was offended, and instantly went on the offensive.

“Well, it's clear to see that your kind is fairly uneducated, but I have the means to change that – don't worry.”

The buc's hatred was intensified to molten levels upon seeing the high scholar's smug look, and unhooked his axe from it's hold on his back.

“Wot did you just say to me, ya damm'd shihnty!”

The case would've gone that the elf's head would've been cut clean off from the brute, and though in response the brute would've been properly hanged and the establishment shut down, the High Society itself would've been under much scrutiny. Fortunately for the High Society, the owner of The Brothers Farmsworth, Zeroi, and probably the brute himself, the attack was stopped when, just before the swing, his weapon hand was impaled into a nearby column by a cloaked stranger.

“God, Gods! What in da... what in da hell!”

Before the brute could recover from his injury in which the dagger used was already removed, the owner of the dagger rushed Zeroi off the premises and out into an alleyway two blocks away, for good measure.

“Well, sir; thanks for the help back there-” It seems this was not Zeroi's day for finishing sentences, as the mystery itself began to talk.

“Has the Society decided to step on the lower class a little more, or are you just mad?”

To the Elondi's surprise, the voice was feminine; yet the owner of the voice was still covered in a dark cloak, and as it was late it was hard to see any face.

“N-no, neither. You see, we – the High Society – believe the realm may be under attack soon, a-and so we need able bodied me- people, to...”

“An attack? Who is attacking?”

“Demons. Ancient Demons. Well, I mean, it's a long story.”

The cloak was finally removed, and it was revealed that there would be no more tricks – the figure was indeed a woman, and an Acadian woman at that.

“The name is Alatricia.”

“Zeroi. Mine's Zeroi.”

The rogue seemed to inspect him closely. “Well Zeroi, it's clear you're not used to the low life. You'll need a street urchin like me for help in your recruitment, though I'm not sure I myself , nor anyone I am connected to, has the ability to fight ancient demons.”

“Well – well, that's the plan. The Society still has books from the ages of the first invasion, that tell us of the creatures. We can train you – all of you.”

Though the young woman seemed eager to bring some excitement into her life, she sighed. “One thing I am sure of is that most are not going to like doing the work of the Society, and my voice is not one that they would listen to completely, I only know who they are.”

“Do you know one?”

“Yes, I just said I did.”

“No, no, not that. Someone who they would listen to.”

The handstabber thought for a moment, before finding the spot in her mind she was looking for.

“Yes, I think I might just know.”


---

Twitter: @CodexofAegis
Facebook: facebook.com/CodexofAegis