Jonan’s eyes narrowed to slits as he emerged from the fort’s central headquarters. He was a large man, with a thick beard and a gnarled scar that ran across his cheek and down his neck, a reminder of the dangers that faced him in his current task given by the Marauder Prince. He was no stranger to battles and had a stern face that spoke of countless past conflicts. His men knew better than to challenge him.
Flanked by his lieutenants of the fort, a telv man and a dwarf woman–magic users both, he strode with a determined grimace across the fort’s grounds. The telv, a tall and lanky individual, clutched a gnarled staff that aided him in walking due to a previous injury the man had sustained in a fight against a merchant caravan, while the dwarf woman carried an axe, her eyes a stormy grey that spoke of her magical affinity.
Their attention was diverted by a man rushing towards them, his face a mask of fear and confusion. “Jonan! The attackers... they've... they've locked themselves in the mess hall!” he gasped, panting heavily as he struggled to catch his breath.
The dwarf woman's face contorted with concern. “And Kurril? Where is he?” she asked, speaking of her partner, and the man he had appointed as captain of the fort itself, while he oversaw the operations of their… project.
The runner's eyes fell to the ground. “Killed outside the fort, ma’am. Slain by... by a horse, if you can believe it.”
The look of pain that crossed her features promised death, and she nearly raised her hand against the messenger.
Jonan raised a hand. “We kill them first. We will grieve our dead later,” he stated with calm surety.
The woman rounded on him, but before anyone could respond, another man approached, his face pale under the flickering torchlight. “It's her again... The magical fox with three tails.”
Jonan cursed under his breath. That thing had been causing him issues ever since he’d tried capturing it the first time, an involuntary shiver that was shared by all those present went down his spine.
If it was here, that meant they had to lock everything down.
He turned to the two lieutenants. “We need to secure the cages. That creature is clearly trying to free them. And we need to breach that damned mess hall!”
His command echoed in the still air. The dwarf woman and telv man shared a glance. They had been part of Jonan's crew for a while and knew their roles well. “I’ll handle the mess hall,” the woman stated with a dangerous edge to her tone.
“Careful ma’am, one of the intruders is a magic user,” the messenger replied. “She casts lightning, killing at least ten men herself.”
Wind and moisture swirled around the dwarf as her magic took over. “I’ll show her what a storm looks like.”
Jonan nodded, satisfied that they would be taken care of. He turned to his other lieutenant. “You’ll be with me, we’ll secure the cages from that demon fox.”
“Understood.”
With a final nod from Jonan, the group split off. He gestured for more of his men to follow him as he headed in the direction of the cages, while his storm-magic lieutenant gathered others and made her way toward the mess hall.
The fear in his men's eyes had unsettled him, but now was not the time for fear. Now was the time for action, and they had a fort to defend.
The Marauder Prince would not suffer any setbacks to his plan.
✦ ✦ ✦
Heta was a poacher by trade and not an ordinary one. Ever since the Flash, she had found that her skills in capturing magical creatures were in high demand. She was fierce, adept, and unrelenting and when she had followed her husband out of Thon Garluhm on this job, she knew it was up to her to get things done.
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He was an oaf, they always fought, but she loved him. They always joked that their dangerous new job would only get the two dwarves killed and that would be the only way they’d go home.
But now he was dead, and it struck her harder than she thought.
That initial shock quickly gave way to a cold fury, a wrath like no other. Her heart pounded against her chest, each throb pulsating with a vengeance that consumed her whole.
Together with a band of their men, Heta made her way toward the mess hall. A grim determination settled on her face, her dark eyes promising retribution. Each step echoed her resolve, a silent battle cry that resounded through the men scrambling to secure the fort.
Upon arriving at the mess hall, Heta studied the group of men who had gathered. They were trying to break down the door with a ram, but their attempts were clumsy, lacking in precision and efficiency. Her lips thinned in irritation. “Is anyone making sure they haven't escaped out the back?” she snapped.
Several men exchanged guilty glances before a group of them hastily took off toward the back of the building. Heta's eyes narrowed. She hated incompetence, especially at times like these.
“The rest of you secure the area. All of you,” she said, gesturing for the six men who had come with her. “You enter with me.”
Turning her attention back to the mess hall door, she dismissed the men, her voice dripping with contempt. “Get out of the way.” Ignoring the surprised glances, she closed her eyes and focused. The air around her stirred as she channeled her magic, a gust of wind whirling around her. She was no stranger to using the power of the storm, and it didn't take long for her to conjure a powerful wind.
With a flourish of her hands, the wind latched onto a large log nearby and lifted it into the air. Heta's eyes flicked open, and with a determined grimace, she sent the log hurling toward the door.
The impact was instant and dramatic, the wooden barricade splintering under the force and crashing inwards.
The path to vengeance was clear. And Heta intended to take it.
Stepping into the mess hall, Heta was met with an eerie silence. The interior was disheveled and abandoned, the remnants of a meal left unfinished on the tables. Her brows furrowed in confusion as she took in the empty room. "What in Erbium's name?" she muttered under her breath. The prospect that the interlopers might have escaped filled her with a seething frustration.
Turning to the men behind her, Heta barked out her orders, “Four of you, search the area. Make sure they didn't leave anything behind.” Four men hastily acknowledged her commands and dispersed from the hall, their footfalls echoing in the silence.
She glanced around one last time, her eyes catching on nothing out of the ordinary. Grumbling to herself, she began to turn towards the entrance. But then, a faint sound reached her ears, like a whisper carried on the wind. Her steps faltered as she stilled, her sharp ears straining to catch the elusive noise.
Turning back to the room, a glint of suspicion flashed in her eyes. Extending her hand, she concentrated, calling upon her magic. A swirl of water flowed around her like rain caught in a funnel, she was about to fling it throughout the room when a sound made her stop.
A guttural growl cut through the silence, a sound so low and threatening it sent a chill down Heta's spine. The vibration of it seemed to disrupt the mana she was attempting to manipulate, causing her [Tempest Rain] to flicker and die. She froze in place, every muscle in her body rigid with fear.
Turning her head slowly, she found herself looking at a dire fox standing menacingly next to one of her men, its three tails rigid. Beside the other, a high elf woman with short hair stood poised, a gleam in her eyes that sent shivers down Heta's spine.
Before either she or her men could react, the fox lunged forward, its jaws opening wide to tear into the throat of the man next to it. Simultaneously, the elf woman moved like a shadow, her sword slashing through the air to dispatch the second man. Both bodies crumpled to the floor, leaving Heta alone with the two attackers.
A tap on her shoulder made her whirl around, only to find herself looking up into the stormy eyes of a tall redhead. The terran woman towered over her, her gaze glowed white as bolts of lightning cracked from the corners of her eyes. Heta could only watch in stunned silence as the woman spoke, her voice cold and firm, “A real storm has more than just rain and wind.”
Suddenly, the air around them filled with a pungent metallic scent, a telltale sign of an imminent lightning strike. The terran lifted a hand, and Heta could see the tendrils of electricity dancing around the room, bouncing off the walls and illuminating the darkness. Panic surged within her as she scrambled to gather her magic, but it was too late. With a swift downward motion, the redhead summoned a bolt of lightning that crackled with divine fury, directing it straight at Heta.
She didn’t even get a chance to yell out a warning to the men outside.
The world exploded in a brilliant flash of white, and a searing pain coursed through Heta's body. She gasped, her breath stolen away as the electricity coursed through her. In an instant, her vision went black, and she knew no more.