"ONE, AND TWO, THEN THREE AND FOUR-- BY THE LIGHT OF THE MOON, THE ALE WE POUR!" The entire tavern blazed with song and merriment thanks to the generosity of the pompous elf paladin and her stoic, legionnaire. Eldlasa had told Deimos to buy several rounds of ale and rum for the entire tavern. His journeys with traders had made him more than enough coin to facilitate her desire-- though he had come to regret agreeing to said desire.
Eldlasa had many a mug of ale and found herself lost in the merrymaking of her new friends. She rode Deimos' lap like a horse and bounced her hips on top of him, furiously to the drunken rhythm of song and men stamping on the crying wooden floors of the building. The soldier sitting in the chair with the elf straddling him boisterously, felt out of place, but strangely at peace as well. The townsfolk seemed to cherish his small gift of drink, all sang his praises and smiled at him. The only problem was the smell of ale and sex was so thick in the air that it made his eyes burn and he had a dry spot in the back of his throat he couldn't seem to lubricate with any rum. He hadn't been to such a wild gathering in many winters and quite frankly he had enough of it and the "hero" trying to suffocate him with her merriment laden breath.
"High Paladin!" He shouted hoping the glassy-eyed drunkard of an elf would hear him.
"Soldier! I forgot you were sitting here!" Eldlasa said as she chocked the words out in slurs, snapping her head down so quickly she slammed her chin into Deimos' nose, angering him.
"Grrr, shouldn't we be collecting ourselves and preparing for tomorrow-- or tonight, w-whatever!"
"The people," she whispered. Suddenly sounding sober. Was it all some act? he wondered.
"The...people. What of them?" Deimos said in confusion.
"Yes , all of them around us."
Deimos was mildly curious and he nodded, urging her to continue.
"What. Do. You. See!" She said, as she bounced on top of him again.
"Alright, alright! Stop!" He said, "I shall be vigilant, paladin." He looked away as his face grew red.
One by one he enhanced his senses as he surveyed the room filled with men and elf alike. He collapsed the loud ravings of the crowd first to focus his mind. He eliminated the heavy musk he smelled to focus his taste. He slowed his thoughts to focus on perception.
Black Legionnaires, were excellent human soldiers and had a high affinity for tracking most magical anomalies. They could taste metal in the air, hear the softest of sounds and see minor details at further distances than other humans.
All around them he heard the clinking and clanking of heavy metals. More than a few patrons were either lightly armoured or carrying weapons. To be expected in such a kingdom as Faaran, replete with dangers. He faintly tasted metal in the air but couldnt quite place it while he smelled honey, fermented apples and cunt on Eldlasa's breath so close to him. He saw people of many races in the tavern drinking, dancing and fucking the day-- or night away. Except for five elven women wearing cloaks that sat hidden in different areas of the room.
"The hooded elf women," he whispered.
"Well what about them, soldier?" said Eldlasa as she smiled and leaned in closely. Was she merely toying with him he wondered. She did seem to enjoy the company of other women after all.
"The two closest, to us aren't wearing any undergarments and the one furthest was wearing pur-- Ouch!" said Deimos but his levity was cut short by Eldlasa tugging vigorously at his ear.
"I don't care about their bloody knickers! Who are they!" She whispered loudly.
Then it hit him-- the correct smell that is. The dryness in the back of his throat had been from him sensing Magnesium. The weightless metal, assassins metal, Deimos' eyes narrowed. Now he would examine them closely.
The elven women wore dark, almost black, purple cloaks of silk with thin gold trims along the edges of the hood and bottom. The cloaks also beared interwoven patterns that seemed better suited to art in a castle to be seen by all, not to hide ones identity. Their boots were of high quality dire wolf leather that bit tightly into their milky thighs and were dyed a deep black colour-- as if these elves weren't attractive enough. To complete the dark aesthetic of the boots the toe-boxes at the front bore a lethal arrangement of thin golden spikes. As deadly as the women that wore them no doubt. He couldn't quite tell but the elves likely had poisoned daggers on them as was normal for assassins. A woman's weapon.
Upon realising Deimos assessed their situation, Eldlasa cradled his face gently into her palms and connected his gaze to hers. Her face darkened, painted with fear.
"Without you I die tonight, soldier of the Black Legion. This is your first test. Protect me," she said, words more a plea than a command.
"I'm no longer a legionnai--"
"They don't know that!"
"Understood...follow me upstairs," he said firmly, now determined as he equipped his black helmet once more and stood with a simple wooden bar-stool in one hand
"No one is upstairs. Why are we going up there? What is up there? I'm not fucking you for protection, you know. You're also quite dirty. Do you even wash!?" Eldlasa began rambling nervously. Deimos ignored her.
"My enemies outnumber me so I choose only to fight where that is no longer an advantage, but a--"
"--Hindrance," said Eldlasa completing his sentence as she realised his plan. She heard soldiers of the Legion were exemplary warriors and his words reflected that. Impressive for a human she thought.
As they walked towards the tavern's stairs Deimos noticed the taverns wenches were nowhere to be seen, only Lith and Egron the barkeep were by the counter. Egron had his head down, focusing his eye intently on counting his coin. Lith had watched both Deimos and Eldlasa intently for quite some time but quickly tore her eyes away once she saw Deimos looking in her direction.
The barkeep and wenches knew all along he figured. Were they paid to keep Eldlasa here? Do the patrons also know and were they instructed accordingly as well. The more Deimos looked around was the more he saw people avoiding eye contact. The tavern and its tantric air had become suffocating. He no longer smelled rum and sex, it was all iron and steel, elements of blood and war. The walls seemed close in on the two warriors as they climbed the stairs. The cracking of the wood felt like laughter.
"They've come to die for us," Deimos heard the brittle wood and splinters whisper as they sneered beneath his boots. Heightened senses could cause a Legionnaire to hallucinate if they were inebriated. He should have paced himself.
Once they walked to the end of the narrow corridor upstairs, Deimos silenced his mind and strengthened his resolve. He ensured Eldlasa stood directly behind him. She tried to express reservations but he ignored her. The time for talk had ended, the assassins were coming.
***
"Again!"
"But...father... I can't anymore, please."
"Cast it again, child."
The young woman rose to her feet sluggishly, beads of sweat punctuated her soft skin. Her black hair as well as her purple gown were also both drenched in sweat. It was her favorite gown, she knew she should've changed beforehand. After a long day of practice she was ready to give in. She held her staff as firmly as she could to cast the water spell-- again.
After a deep breath she focused her mind to pull as much power as she could from her spirit to cast the spell but she couldn't, her spirit was too weak to continue without rest. She looked towards her father who stood across the room from her, large arms folded and eyes trained on her. Waiting. Even in one of his most impossible moods she admired him. Count Giorgio Tyrannis. His jet black hair was always cut short and neatly parted to one side, not one strand out of place. His hair held itself in place as if he commanded it to do so. Why couldn't hers be as perfect as his was she wondered. He stood strong after a full days work as his sweaty, dark skin glistened in the light of the setting sun. He is the gold standard for men of the Cerulean nobility and he never went a day without declaring it.
Giorgio began stamping his feet impatiently, freeing his daughter of the hold her imagination had taken.
"Lorelei, you will cast the spell. NOW!" Giorgio commanded.
His anger always shook her to her core and her timidness always disappointed him. Her hands were slick and she had difficulty holding her staff, with all the sweat, with all the pressure, she needed his approval. House Tyrannis had a reputation to uphold and his daughter was not ready he always said. The women of this house were among the greatest sorceresses and leaders in Laroi Vitale. They carried their name high as daughters of Cerulean nobility who belonged to one of the four houses that advised their entire nation. Lorelei had big shoes to fill and her father would be the one to get her to that prestigious point in her life-- even if it killed her, she thought.
She brushed her long black hair from her face and began focusing once more. This time she dug deeper and deeper looking pass her spirit to pull more power from within. Something felt wrong inside her but she needed to do this. Any means necessary. The young sorceress now had gathered the power she needed and droplets of water gathered around her, moving towards the staff she held.
Now Giorgio started to nod as he saw his daughter performing as expected until he noticed something else entirely.
"Stop! Are you mad!" he said.
Lorelei immediately stopped channeling her power and fell to her knees. She was tired before but now started to feel a deep emptiness. A hunger food wouldn't fix. She had committed the ultimate sin again without realising it.
"You are to cast spells with your spirit! How can you keep making the same mistake!" Giorgio shouted while barely maintaining his composure. "Casting from the soul is suicide, are you daft girl? How much longer will you be disappointment to this family?" said Giorgio, harsh words came naturally to him. He held others to an impossibly high standard and himself even higher. Good enough was never enough to him but Lorelei knew he was right. She knew better, she made the same mistake, she was a disappointment.
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"I-i just wanted to... I needed to please you father. Any... means...necessary." She said as she choked the words out between sobs. Her chest tightened and her face throbbed as tears streamed down her cheeks.
"Your grandmother could cast a myriad of water spells by your age. You are of her blood and yet you aren't progressing fast enough. You must be better, little sprite," Giorgio said as he stood in judgment of his daughter but softened his expression soon after. "That is enough for today, Lorelei, you need rest."
Lorelei sat crying with her head in her hands, unresponsive.
"Seventeen winters and you still cry constantly as if you are a newborn babe," he said before sighing, "Come now Lorelei, your mother need not-"
"I need not what, husband?"
Lady Tyrannis entered the room, three manservants in tow.
"Eleanora I-"
"Hush now, Giorgio. What is she doing sat on the floor?" Eleanora said as she strut onto the terrace where her husband and daughter regularly practiced. Lorelei quickly dried her tears and cleaned her face as her mother made her way to them.
Eleanora Tyrannis walked on airs. She wore only the most expensive dresses made from the rarest and most sought after materials. Her Dark Brown hair was always worn up, held in place by a golden ornament in the shape of a Hydra. The highest quality wool lined the collar of the extravagant dress. Cut from white chimeras that roamed the northern wastes. Her dress itself was of an ethereal silk spun directly from Abyssal remnant spiders that killed men for sport in caves and mines deep beneath the Verdant continent. The vivid blue dress accentuated her form, ensuring every single one of her curves were so pronounced that even a man's soul could feel them. Her ensemble was finally completed by a Manticore leather corset adorned with precious jewels and golden fixtures, the leather itself dyed to be the perfect shade of Lavender. This dress gave all her assets an extra lift that ensured people would always be watching her-- If their eyes were afraid to look into her pale blues they may rest upon her beautiful skin and full breasts instead. Giorgio knew he didn't deserve such an enchantress.
She took one look at Lorelei's face and quickly turned her head away to look out at the grand city they live above as the sun slowly set on it.
"Your eyes are as red as the Avernus, child. Your life has been to easy. Perhaps I should give you something to cry about," said the noblewoman as she sneered in disgust.
"M-mother please i-"
"Fifteen lashes ought to suffice," Eleanora declared without skipping a beat. She gazed at the sunset a while longer as a lonely silence dominated the air absent her commands. That is until she furrowed her brows, crinkled her nose and tilted her head ever slightly to the right. Upon seeing his wife's odd reaction, Giorgio turned his back and hung his head low.
"Once again, she attempted to cast from the soul I see. Your insolence is truly remarkable. You have earned thirty lashes then. I will beat some sense Into this child, Giorgio," said Eleanora, poison added to every word. Lorelei's heart sank and her hands rand cold with sweat. Giorgio only sighed and began leaving the terrace. As Eleanora collected her whip from a servant standing by the entrance to the terrace she grabbed Giorgio by the arm, halting his retreat.
"I want her gone, husband. If we cannot guide her, she must find her way on her own. Any means necessary!" sad Eleanora as her hands and voice shook intensely with each word.
"Nora! I could NEVER--" said Giorgio stopping short of finishing his retort as his wife took one dainty finger and pushed the, tall and imposing man backwards till she pressed him up against a wall. With her hand gently but firmly placed upon his breast she looked up into his brown eyes with her pale blues.
"You've given me nothing but woe with your cursed seed, Giorgio Patelli," Eleanora said to her husband as she used his family name. If a wife were to do this she was surely furious and her words cut him deeply. He gave her only one heir to her dynasty and couldn't seem to produce more no matter how hard they tried, they did try, several times a week. Other women would have abandoned him ages ago and yet, Eleanora kept him by her side. A huge risk for a powerful woman.
Eleanora placed her head on his chest and embraced him, "She will be eaten alive if she doesn't Improve, my love. Her sorcery is falling behind her peers and her demeanour leaves much to be desired. I need you to understand," she whispered ensuring the servants and her daughter were none the wiser about how she truly felt and yet Lorelei could feel her mothers sorrow. They rarely ever spoke but she knew of the pressures her mother faced. She also knew that her mother often cried in her fathers arms, especially after they made love.
"I will see to your desires, my loves," Giorgio calmly said as he held and caressed her head, "Discipline her and I will make arrangements."
"Hold the girl still!" Eleanora barked, quickly shifting back to her icy cold demeanor as she elegantly spun around on one heel to face the servants and her daughter.
"Mother have mercy please, you are mistaken!" said Lorelei as she cried. The manservants held her still as her mother approached, sliding her fingers along the whip. Lorelei struggled vigorously against the men but they were more than twice her size and thrice her strength.
"Strip her," Eleanora said as she stood a short distance away, whip in hand. The men tore open Lorelei's favourite dress, exposing her back and the very light scarring she earned from previous lashings. They had healed nicely and were nearly undetectable. It wasn't wise to leave clear evidence of a young woman's disobedience so Eleanora took great care to keep her body as pristine as possible.
This time however, was different.
"I will teach you a lesson you won't soon forget, child."
***
Deimos could hear the assassins making their way up the stairs. They were playing right into his trap.
"We fight not for glory..."
The assassins appear at the end of the corridor.
"We will serve no Gods..."
They unsheathed their daggers.
"And when death calls..."
Eldlasa began to feel the wood beneath her feet tremble and the air grew oddly cold dead, as if frozen by the soldier's determination. Her palms started sweating and her heartbeat raced knowing exactly came for her. She looked to the soldier, her resolve shaken but noticed his stood firm. Her focus on Deimos broke as her eyes were drawn to the assassins who were now sprinting towards them.
"...WE ANSWER!" said Deimos, his voice boomed powerfully through the entire corridor. A bone chilling power resonated within him that could shake the resolve of even the most dangerous of creatures. The War cry rattled the already rattled Eldlasa and the a few of the assassins, all who had never heard the Black Legion's prayer for themselves. One of the assassins stopped dead in her tracks, frozen in fear as her comrades found the courage to carry out their assault. They let loose fans of poisoned daggers at the warriors.
Thock! Thock! Thock! Deimos caught several daggers thrown at him with the bar-stool in one swift motion, missing a few that grazed him with their poisoned edges.
Deimos swung the stool at the closest assassin who easily dodged the blow but collided with one of her allies knocking them off balance. She made a quick recovery by rebounding off the wall next to her and pushed herself towards him, dagger in hand. The soldier had experience with nimble opponents choosing to drop the stool to catch the elf's attack and bring her closer. With his left foot he simultaneously kicked the stool with all the strength he could muster, tripping the second assassin that attempted to dash pass him.
The first assassin tried to free herself of his grasp but failed to overpower or outmaneuver the legionnaire. Her eyes widened as she looked directly at him. He spread her left leg with his right, weakening her posture, placed all weight on it then picked her up and slammed her into the second assassin getting up after her fall. This knocked the first assassin out cold and broke the other's leg. She wailed from the injury. The assassin sounded young and inexperienced. It mattered not to Deimos, she was still likely thrice his age. He raised his armoured head and glared at the rest of the opposition, he felt a faint twinge in his arm from the cuts he sustained as they began to burn and itch, distracting him.
A boot appeared in his field of vision, thumping him in the chin, slicing open his lip with the spikes and throwing Deimos' head backwards. This third assassin capitalised on her motion by stepping onto him with the same foot and leaning forward to jump towards Eldlasa behind him, who cowered in the corner. Deimos grabbed both of her legs, having barely kept his balance.
With a grunt he savagely folded the assassin and flung her into a cheap tavern door to their left. He obliterated the door, knocking the assassin and a naked man in the room senseless. Two women screamed as they sprinted from the room half naked avoiding Deimos and the last two assassins who give them way.
"We have no quarrel with the Black Legion, step aside and we will forgive this transgression," said the fourth assassin as the fifth still stood silent. There was a different air surrounding her. Perhaps she was their commander.
Deimos did nothing other than widen his stance, bracing himself for whatever came next. His heart raced and his ears heated up, he hadn't fought in several moons and he was prepared to defend his new comrade to achieve his goal. He heard many a tale of the dexterity and cunning of these Faaran assassins but they were no true threat. "Old wives tales," he said to himself as he smiled deviously at the remainder of the opposition.
"Very well," she said. She retrieved a hot metal orb from a satchel. The orb was made of steel and was glowing in an ominous red colour. It had bright yellow sigils marked on it that were mostly obscured by the elf's hands, but there was no mistaking what it was. A Maxim mage's orb-- mages who couldn't cast magic naturally used similar orbs and that orb was in the possession of a Faaran Royal Assassin. All the hairs stood up on the back of Deimos' neck as the assassin pointed it down the hallway at them and it began to glow brighter. Deimos, in a sudden panic, sharply inhaled, filling his lungs to capacity, his eyes became deep voids of black and Ice magic began to coalesce around both he and Eldlasa.
"Avernus, hear my call, Ignite!" The assassin chanted, calling upon the power of the Crimson Moon of Fire, expelling a grand dance of flames from the orb. The fire began devouring the entire hallway burning all in its path. The injured assassins started shrieking as the fire set them ablaze.
As the flames drew closer Deimos let out a load roar and the ice magic exploded, cascading outwards in a whirl of sparkling lights and gale force winds, punctuated by sheets of hoarfrost blanketing everything. The ice began clashing with the flames and extinguishing them as they approached. The powerful ice magic seemed to envelop him in a bright aura of pristine white as the visage of a giant three eyed, white lion appeared. It seemed to bolster his power and shake the entire tavern when it roared with him. Eldlasa stood bewildered, soaked to the bone in fear and freezing in the corner. People could be heard running and screaming downstairs.
Eldlasa recognised the lion from stories she heard of the legions exploits decades ago. The legion had captured the three eyed demon and forced it into their service.
The fire was completely extinguished and the hallway sat covered in ice and snow. Deimos held his stance as the injured assassins collected themselves and retreated. The fourth assassin gave a curtsy to him before she decided to turn tail as well.
He looked around at the carnage they all left in their wake. Half the corridor of the shoddy tavern was scorched but no longer on fire and the blinding light of the moon now could be seen clearly through a gaping hole in the ceiling. Had he not invoked Pagos, the great beast of the Glacial plains of the abyss, they would all be dead and the tavern destroyed by fires channeled directly from the Crimson moon itself. Those orbs were not to be trifled wi-- Deimos' mind trailed off as his head suddenly felt light and his legs seemed to give out from under him. He just needed a minute to rest. The poison started to impair him but it wouldn't kill a warrior such as he.
He focused his thoughts. The afflicted arm became slightly grey and numb as all feeling left it, he clenched his fist and the effects of the poison soon left his body. He ended his focus and shook his hand as its colour returned. Deimos was now exhausted. The damned beast put serious strain on his entire body and he leaned back to rest as he sat in the cold corridor.
"Hey...soldier..." Eldlasa called out weakly as she looked at him, silent, sitting in the ice. He hadn't moved an inch since he sat down. Did the beast kill him she wondered.
"What a waste, you saved my backside. Best I get moving on before I freeze to death or the old codger flays me alive for destroying his bloody tavern," she said as she chuckled and walked away limping, visibly in pain.
"Explain yourself..." Deimos said as words slipped through his teeth before he grabbed her foot. Eldlasa yelled in shock and tripped. She kicked his hand away and turned to face him, sitting in the ice with her back to the opposite wall
"Why would a High Paladin, one of the greatest heroes in this realm-- in all the realm even-- cower when facing a few assassins," Deimos said. He growled under his breath as he looked at her.
Eldlasa looked down at the floor, refusing to make eye contact. She remained silent and it made him furious. But before he could say more he took notice of her hand that touched the ice. The skin on her fingers quickly became red and started to blister. It was as if her hand started to freeze instantly. Eldlasa noticed as well and winced as she withdrew her hand to hide it.
"What is.. What is happening to you, elf?" Deimos said, "Answer me!"
"I've been cursed, soldier... I am dying."