The Great Stirring
Prompts Used: Unquiet
The droning began as fictional buzz. One from an annoying fake fly that pestered the relative tranquility of Constrace's dreams. A droning grumble of tiny transparent wings sent beating waves of the noise into her skull.
The landscape of her slumbering fantasies, with its rolling verdant hills, sparkling lakes, and fanciful cottonesque clouds began to take on more rational tones. Even the nameless knight who'd been escorting her through the meadow was no where to be found. Now it was just her, the fly, and the realization that she wasn't home or in a very real place at all-- so that must mean...
Constrace awoke. The darkened sandstone walls of her room captured the light streaming in from a glassless window and held it within their solid embrace. The ever-present breeze of air was hot and dry, and with each passing minute another modicum of dust was deposited upon the red trimmed windowsill. This was the way Constrace's room looked almost every morning. Though as she sat up in the similarly constructed sandstone platform that held her stuffed blankets and pillows, one thing was quite different. The droning.
Constrace winced as she focused on the noise, it was soft and almost imperceptible. A tiny vrrrrrrr no more obtrusive than the low magical buzz of an automaton. Yet, one that was infinitely more annoying. She reached a hand to her temples, grazing the pads of her fingers softly along to feel the protruding thumping veins. The young woman gave a sigh-- she would be having another headache today.
Trying her best to ignore the incessant tightness of her skull, Constrace rose from her bed and went to her window. Sliding and dirtying an index finger along the cherry red siding of the portal, Constrace judged the level of dust. On a normal day, the accumulating filth may have spurned her to give the room a quick once-over with a damp rag before breakfast. Today, the young ward really couldn't be bothered.
She looked down from her view to the streets almost eighty feet below. Constrace enjoyed the pleasures of a warrior poet of Lafin Keep. Like most young adults of the Keep, Constrace was enlisted by the Holy Order of Gelance on her 16th birthday to work as a steward. The Keep was a grand structure, a megastructure by some definitions. Walls, towers, and platforms all of the same dark sandstone material created a labyrinth of rock that twisted into sculpted intersections and passageways. 'Beautiful' was the main word that non-stewards used to describe it, 'damn confusing' was what the Order used.
Already the aromas from the many bakeries and commissaries began to enticingly twirl up the towers of the Keep, and with them came Constrace's appetite. Food always did manage to draw her attention on most occasions, and despite her growing migraine it was the promise of food that kept Constrace punctual. Constrace donned her gleaming metallic armor-- more ornamental than functional-- and strapped a sturdy steward-issued shortsword to her hip.
Fwump!
Her chainmail glove swatted soundly to the side of her temple... vrrrrrr... It didn't stop the buzzing. With a sigh, she opened her door and began the long downward climb streetside.
Fraz stood on top of the air. With folded arms, a constant downward glare, and two stationary extended wings he cast his ire-filled eyes 10000 feet down to the ground below. Great blasts of wind fast and powerful enough to knock a man off his feet rolled off his great and powerful body. It was as if the air was accentuating his very presence in the current space. He wondered if it was how monuments felt. There he was, a blue-gray 12-foot-tall statue of planned perfection. Fraz had little use for air, but he couldn't resist rolling the thick twisted corded fibers that composed his neck and taking a deep breath in. The air was crisp and cool this high up at dawn. Many demons would spite the air and the majesty of the rising sun. Many would curse such a splendor, many would seek to destroy it. Fraz found them extremely short-sighted and uncultured. A pleasurable experience was not lost on him... but it was lost on the people below. Noise surrounded him. The two stationary wings gave a small shift in the air. Fraz shut his yellow eyes and concentrated on the drone once more. The pale blue membrane of his wings gave a subtle glow and once more began their psychic drone. Fraz had been on Sonnerand for only 10 days, freed from the shackles of captivity as he always knew he would be. That was his lot, imprisonment. He was sure it would happen again, in due time. But Fraz had never been to the lands he now stood over and as he reached out a black clawed hand his dagger pointed index finger traced a line in the air. Following the point of his nail was shimmering ephemeral matrix which glowed yellow-green. Behind the matrix, or perhaps on top of it, were subtler colors and lines. Arcs, curves, spirals, and sequences-- too many for even him to individually track. Layers of magic, some far more complex than others. However, Fraz reveled in the challenge to understand it. 'How dismal of a time the spellcasters of this world must have!' Fraz thought to himself as his finger found a new pattern, a series of concentric rings hidden on a diagonal trajectory behind the main matrix. He scraped down, empowering the section of the pattern. Vrrrrrrrr.... Fraz let out a laugh as the droning increased five-fold!
Vrrrr.... "Ughggaaa! This sucks! I've drank two entire cups and my head's still killing me!" cried the slouching steward. Constrace shot a surprised expression at her bemoaning patrol partner, a young man her age named Bentil. "You too?" She softly questioned, but it seemed like Bentil was too caught up in gripping the sides of his head to hear. She gave a bit of a grimace. Admittedly, ever since they began patrol only 10 minutes ago Constrace had thought the buzzing sound got louder. The thought had inspired her to rest two fingers on her helmet to keep it from sliding about on her scalp. Something about the bob and tilt of the helmet was only making the problem worse-- that and she reasoned she tied her hair too tightly. "Hey," Constrace thumped her boot against Bentil's side. It wasn't hard, but Bentil still looked up at her with a hurt expression, his wispy half-beard quivering. "Oh come on, I have a migraine too. You don't have to be so dramatic," Constrace rolled her eyes. Bentil chewed the inside of his cheek, "But this feels serious Constrace! I mean, it's like I'm hearing things! You've heard the stories about soldiers that have fireballs go off by their heads and they hear the 'fwoooosh' for the rest of their lives! What if that's it w--" "You don't have tinnitus, besides, when has a fireball gone off by your face?" Constrace asked annoyed. Her own headache was doing nothing to soften her mood or patience. "When I was sleeping then something may have crawled inside..." Bentil turned green. Constrace had enough. She scooped down and lifted the man to his feet, eyes narrowed. "Did you not hear me? I said I have it too," she spat. Bentil's face went pale. Constrace was one of the top stewards of her age group and he didn't have to think too long about who could kick the other's ass. "Y-You do?" He questioned with all the bravado of a sickened puppy. Their little farce on the streets had drawn a few gazes from the business owners and other stewards on the street. Another, a steward who must have only been in his first term, cautiously approached from the portcullis he guarded. "Did you say you guys have headaches...?" He questioned while clutching his spear in two hands. After the got close to the he leaned his temples in to press against the cool iron shaft of the spear. "I woke up with one too." Constrace felt her breath leave her body. She took a quick look around. No kids were running around and playing, no lively conversations, no real loud noises at all. Vrrrr.... "A noise. A buzzing sound." She flipped around to Bentil and the younger steward. "Do you two hear this kinda.. uh, you know, like a 'brvvrrrrrr' in your heads?" The two started, and each gave a nod. Constrace whipped around and briskly entered the closest business she could find. Walking into a distinctly customer-lacking bookstore, Constrace approached the front counter. An woman in her 50's sat slightly slouched, a glass of softly fizzing water at her side. She looked nervous as the steward approached. "Oh dear. Good morning steward, may I help you?" she politely asked. "Good day Ma'am. Just a question," Constrace's eyes darted to the water, "Do you happen to have a headache?" The bookkeeper blinked in recognition and surprise before giving a little chuckle and nod, "Oh gosh.. yes. Was it that obvious?" Constrace shook her head and turned to leave. "Thank you, Ma'am." Out on the street Bentil and the other steward, who Bentil had discovered was named Tymas, turned back to Constrace when she reemerged. "Lady inside's got it too," she told the group as she approached. "Not just her, everyone on the street said they hear it too," Tymas said worriedly. "Then the Order likely knows already," Bentil reasoned. "That they do. But you realize what this could be right?" Constrace warned. The other two just shot an unknowing look at each other. Constrace walked a few steps. Memories from past history lessons came flooding back, about all kinds of experimental weaponry and the great catastrophe at the end of the War of the Ageless. "A mass spell attack."
A gasp of ecstasy left Fraz's cracked lips. Now he was beginning to hear them! Their worry, their panic. They were becoming aware. Fraz new quite well that the mewling masses of Sonnerand had discovered spellcraft, but he was almost positive that none of them had unlocked the secrets of their own system like he had. 'I feel like my head's about to pop.' 'Make it stop.'
'Shouldn't have been out all night.' 'Nothing's helping.' 'Make it stop.' 'Tried everything.'
How glorious were their thoughts, their confusion, their panic. 'The pain.' 'My eyes feel heavy.' 'Nothing works.'
'I hate this.'
'Paaain...' 'Mama, it hurts, I'm scared!' 'Make it stop!!' Fraz shut his eyes and focused once more. His body was beginning to slowly fall. Now, a smile twisted upon his hips as he felt himself beginning to drop, involuntarily lured in by the foul thoughts and poor mood of the city below. And with proximity, came power.
Doorrrraaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn....Doooorrraaaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn.... Many bloodshot eyes wildly looked around gathering crowds as the warning sirens of Lafin Keep began to sound. All around the Keep, residents and stewards alike rushed in a panic towards the main citadel. To a select few, those who stood in the central-most tower of the Keep, these were sirens that hadn't been heard since the last war. Most had never heard the wailing keen. Constrace and Bentil stood in a sandstone chamber lit by various orange-burning sconces along with numerous other stewards. The sirens were muffled, but still send a slight rumble through the stone. The buzzing noise, however, was just as acute. The pair watched as two men in fancy clothing attempted to match movements in a slow swaying dance. Their eyes were locked on each other and faint traces of yellow-green light could be seen burning from the tips of their fingers. As they moved in their precise and practiced ways, the great lengths of chain both wore from their hips let out a mild jangle. Behind the men, many of the most decorated Knights of the Holy Order bickered amongst each other in hurried hushed whispers. Constrace knew they were talking about strategies, both for possible evacuation and retaliation. The only issue was that their enemy was unknown. A ray of light slung away from one of the spellcaster's fingers! It shot up towards the ceiling before vanishing. The man whipped around to the Holy Order. "Would you all please allow us a moment of quiet?!" the man wearing a copper chain who lost the spell turned on the Knights, "It's already extremely difficult to cast this level of magic with this constant buzzing-- shut. UP!" This garnered the man a number of venomous gazes from the practiced Knights. Constrace imagined that it couldn't be easy-- the Knights were known for their prowess in battle and courage. To not only be completely unaware of their adversary, but to also rely on members of The Linkage... "Rab, that is far from necessary," the other man, who wore a length of silver, said in a stoic voice. "Why do we need them here? We must focus!" Rab frustratedly crooned. Silver Chain's lips tightened, "Your movements. Block out everything. Focus on the craft. We will go slower this time. Do not push anger into your magics, Rab. We begin again." The two began the movements again, this time taking an excruciatingly slow approach to the spellcasting. The congregation of stewards and knights remained silent for the next five minutes. Vrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr..... "Uh, Constrace... did it just get louder?" Bentil leaned in and whispered. "-Shh!" Constrace's brow was furrowed. Indeed it had gotten louder and a quick visual sweep of the room confirmed the others probably felt it as well. Constrace glanced at the spellcasters, and saw veins protruding from their temples. Deeehh-teckt Magicks! The dialect of power ripped through the room as the spell came to its abrupt end! From the spellcaster's hands the green energy burst. An expansive bubble exploded out from between the men, harmlessly passing through Constrace and the other. Static electricity and ozone filled the room, and a shiver went down Constrace's spine as the mages opened their now glowing eyes. Silver Chain gasped. Rab fell down on his backside. "It's... it's I--" Silver seemed lost for words. "Everywhere." Rab marveled as he gazed at the invisible spectrum only he could see. "It's.. everywhere." "What's the type, dammit?! Quit gawking and dispel it already!" A Knight roared from the back of the room. Silver stood up. Focused, intent. He reached his arms out, and allowed the sleeves to fall. His forearms were covered in a tattooed series of twisting golden lines and patterns. "--An enchantment." He settled his breathing, "One we are all in, likely the whole Keep. Please... a moment." His arms pushed down! He took in a great inhale as his fingers gripped some unseen force. For a brief moment, everyone in the room watched as the matrix of magic was visible, clenched tight between Silver's hands! The golden tattoos then began to glow, brighter, hotter, brighter than the sconces, brighter than mage-lights, brighter than the sun. Constrace felt herself take a few steps back. She did not know much about spellcasting. But what she did know was that bright and intense meant high-level, and high-level meant dangerous. Bentil shared her concern, his troubled and frightened expression snapping back to her as the mage began to cast. "Poltle!! Wait!!" Rab reached up, but too late. Deehhh-shpoil Magicks! "NO!" The chain's hands blasted skyward! And for a brief moment a crackling red energy surged through his hands. And then there was a pause. And then the Silver Chain was no more. The sound of wet tearing paper erupted from Poltle the Silver Chain's body. The energy immediately halted. Glassy eyes, bewildered and wild, looked down to his torso. "Wha-" ShRRRRRRRRRRR-- Screams filled the room as the man's body turned inside out. The process was quick and seemless, like unraveling a tangle that'd always been there. His arms cracked as the twisted into weird positions from his shoulders and his legs impacted upwards, into the pelvis and out of sight. The gruesome scene was already sending terrified stewards out of the chamber. But all in the room would be frightened if they saw what Rab saw. The young Copper Chain still had his detection spell active, and only he could see the all-encompassing enchanted energy swirling and stirring in the room. It was like a bathtub being drained, he thought, and the whirlpool of magic potential was now streaming directly into his teacher's body.
"Ohhaohooho," Fraz's laugh was alien, "They never do learn, no matter where you go." He wasn't speaking to anyone in particular, other than perhaps his own madness. Fraz could see his own spell's energy without the need for auxiliary magic craft. He could see the large sphere shrink. Someone had tried to dismantle his spell. Very good. He was now sinking below the clouds, feeling the weight of his body growing heavier, and heavier. Their terror was growing, their despair was increasing, and now-- they had tripped the true ability of his annoying little trick.
The demented twisted around mouth of the Silver Chain began to let out a guttural growl from within his epidermal throat. "GaHH-V-VRRRRRRRR!!" The same noise! "VRR--HECahcc!!" Constrace moved. More screams. But now they were for her. Constrace watched Silver Chain's twisted around head slide and drop, silenced by the commotion-ending blade of her shortsword. "C-Constrace wh--" Bentil began to call. "Already dead!" Constrace screamed back. "This isn't something we can handle. We have to go! Everyone has to go. NOW!" But no one moved. The buzzing was still in their heads. And then the corpse began to cough. A sickly sound of blood and phlegm mixing. Rab, the Copper Chain, frantically shifted his focus from Constrace to the body of the Silver Chain. Constrace jabbed down again, directly into the chest, scowling at the knights. A senior Knight, Sir Norimirah, then called out, "Take the wizard's body, go to the streets, tell all magic users that spellcasting is off-limits until we can escape the keep. And someone," he looked at Constrace with a nod, "find me the source of this." Constrace felt the surge of authority rush through her. She didn't smile, but her returning nod carried her appreciation towards the experienced Knight. "Yes sir!" Bentil returned. He and a few other stewards started for the sundered body of the wizard. Constrace turned to leave. Rab, who had been sitting through it all, felt himself in a daze. He knew far more about magic than, currently, anyone else in the room. Whatever this was, he knew, went beyond a mere mage-terrorist. Then, he saw the most beautiful sight with his enhanced vision. The body of the Silver Chain, just one rank away from joining the most esteemed scholars of The Linkage, began to change color. Not to anyone else, but only to Rab and his magic vision. The green glimmer of enchantment began to blacken into a bruise-blue colored necrotic mass. "W-Wait... maybe don't touch that..." the stunned man watched the stewards approached. "We shouldn't keep touching everythin--" "-We will make sure he gets his honors," Bentil cut him off, "You should go and use your tricks to help people." His ire was clear. "Hey, could I get some help?" Another steward took up the opposite side of Poltle's body. The Knights began to stream out into other hallways. "Come on," Bentil said with a huff, "Lift, dammit." The other steward tried to adjust his grip... but could not. Bentil tried to do the same, and found himself in a likewise situation. His palms were clung to the man's shoulders. Bentil and the steward, one who Bentil never bothered to meet, would exchange shocked glances. It would be their last look. Heads snapped back, jaws cracked open unnaturally wide. And the noise came. VRRRRRR!! Constrace halted in her tracks. Blood squirted out from the sides of their temples as their knees buckled out from under them. Both young men kneeled beside the gruesome sight of the Silver Chain, who had also begun to let out the noise. Rab, who still hadn't gotten up... was directly in front of them. The noise, the awful noise, the noise that had been in his head all day now kneeled screaming before him. So loud, so cacophonous, so terrible. Mixed and amplified by whatever was happening, now growing even more powerful. Poltle had been one of the best mages in the south... and now... the hopelessness... the pointlessness... Rab reached out and touched the three, and joined the choir that would spell the end for Lafin keep.
Fraz stood atop one of the Keep's many tall spires, his eyes shut and at peace as he waved his hands about like a conductor. With every passing minute the buzzing sound was getting louder, the pitches of different roaring raw larynx's made an utter discord to the air around him. Why, they were nearly about to drown out the sirens, Fraz thought with great delight. He looked down and saw now, the mass that was beginning to bulge from one of the windows down below. That must have been where it began, Fraz reasoned. A few more minutes passed, and they were out the door. There must have been well over 400 bodies in the mass-- oh how the echoing of such spacious chambers must have amplified the effect! And there were even more now, with the drone so loud, Fraz watched as dozens of people began to mindlessly pace towards the amalgamation he had set in motion. Like zombies, they reached out and willingly submitted themselves to the drone, joining their voice in the mix. Of course, there were those who were less resistant. Even now Fraz noted with a great deal of demonic glee that there were flashes of red still being cast into the street by those more stalwart defenders of this paltry human castle. Fraz cast an easy glance up into the clouds where he stood only an hour prior. Yes, now he felt it, that sizzling burning energy that seemed to surround this place... it was going away. The reliquary guards were gone, the robed figures joined into his own mass, praising and singing his own services and psalms. Fraz knew not what god held dominion over this place and these people-- but he had taken it for himself. "Seems like that's one thing I don't have to worry about here, eh?" He addressed whatever deity this Keep directly worshipped . "I win." He leapt from the top of the roof, and began to aid his own horrors.
Half an hour passed and the town had been neutralized. Fraz walked through the now silent streets. Once every man, woman, and child had joined the mass, there was no longer any need for the drone. Now Fraz strolled through the streets alone with his thoughts, but surrounded by convoluted maladies. It reminded the beast of home. He had erected columns of flesh, stairways of bone, and chambers of blood-drenched tissue. Once again, Fraz found himself enamored by the magic of this land. In his home such a scene would only be possible by tapping directly into the intrinsic foul and vile energies of the Abyss. Here... it shaped for him, rearranged its composition for him, and followed his orders exactly. Like the magic was obedient. And Fraz figured he had only scratched the surface. A small cough took him unaware. A young woman in ripped armor used the one hand she had left to try and tear herself away from the mausoleum of bodies. Her eyes had lost a great deal of light, and she was clearly and pitifully in the throws of her own belied death. "There, there, child." Fraz purred in an almost warm tone. He found tenacity to be utterly abhorrent, but respected such spirited resistance to something that was so very clearly unavoidable. His thumb and forefinger, both the size of the woman's wrist, cupped underneath her chin to life her face. Constrace tried not to let out a scream. She had been the last, the last to go screaming into this building of companions and citizens. She saw friends and mentors bent and broken into walls and floors, the children as ornaments and art pieces, the elders as the foundations-- hidden beneath the blood dripping mass. Constrace had felt the cruel drone well up in her throat for a few awful moments, the burning as her arm melted into the column she now leaned again. And now, she was staring at something. Even in her waning mind, she knew it to be the cause-- how could it not be. Never before had the girl seen such a creature. It was an idol of hatred and evil. An uncanny gargoyle with a face that shared more human than beastial features. She felt the blue fur of his fingers on her neck. It felt almost supple. "Yes. You'll do." Fraz stepped away, his eyes flashed. Constrace felt something bore into her mind like a drill. That same drone sounded again. But this time, it was direct, loud, and mindspiking. And now Constrace let out her screams. Fraz found the information he wanted. He began to search his own monument. The boy she loved. He would make a fine standard. Bentil was found, taken back, and flayed before Constrace's eyes. "And now... my standard bearer." Fraz said in the same warm tone he had kept turning the sickening process. "You shall serve a far better purpose than galvanting for some unanswering god." A sheet of Bentil's flesh was forced into Constrace's free hand. It burned. She was fused. She found herself losing everying. She found herself losing the world around her. "Fear not... in a hundred years or more you two shall find each other again." Fraz smiled, "As the stewards of my dominion. And for you, I shall give you purpose." It was the only lingering fragment of hope Constrace would receive as her eyes shut forever.
Fraz stood on top of the air. With folded arms, a constant downward glare, and two stationary extended wings he cast his ire-filled eyes 10000 feet down to the ground below. Great blasts of wind fast and powerful enough to knock a man off his feet rolled off his great and powerful body. It was as if the air was accentuating his very presence in the current space. He wondered if it was how monuments felt. There he was, a blue-gray 12-foot-tall statue of planned perfection. Fraz had little use for air, but he couldn't resist rolling the thick twisted corded fibers that composed his neck and taking a deep breath in. The air was crisp and cool this high up at dawn. Many demons would spite the air and the majesty of the rising sun. Many would curse such a splendor, many would seek to destroy it. Fraz found them extremely short-sighted and uncultured. A pleasurable experience was not lost on him... but it was lost on the people below. Noise surrounded him. The two stationary wings gave a small shift in the air. Fraz shut his yellow eyes and concentrated on the drone once more. The pale blue membrane of his wings gave a subtle glow and once more began their psychic drone. Fraz had been on Sonnerand for only 10 days, freed from the shackles of captivity as he always knew he would be. That was his lot, imprisonment. He was sure it would happen again, in due time. But Fraz had never been to the lands he now stood over and as he reached out a black clawed hand his dagger pointed index finger traced a line in the air. Following the point of his nail was shimmering ephemeral matrix which glowed yellow-green. Behind the matrix, or perhaps on top of it, were subtler colors and lines. Arcs, curves, spirals, and sequences-- too many for even him to individually track. Layers of magic, some far more complex than others. However, Fraz reveled in the challenge to understand it. 'How dismal of a time the spellcasters of this world must have!' Fraz thought to himself as his finger found a new pattern, a series of concentric rings hidden on a diagonal trajectory behind the main matrix. He scraped down, empowering the section of the pattern. Vrrrrrrrr.... Fraz let out a laugh as the droning increased five-fold!
Vrrrr.... "Ughggaaa! This sucks! I've drank two entire cups and my head's still killing me!" cried the slouching steward. Constrace shot a surprised expression at her bemoaning patrol partner, a young man her age named Bentil. "You too?" She softly questioned, but it seemed like Bentil was too caught up in gripping the sides of his head to hear. She gave a bit of a grimace. Admittedly, ever since they began patrol only 10 minutes ago Constrace had thought the buzzing sound got louder. The thought had inspired her to rest two fingers on her helmet to keep it from sliding about on her scalp. Something about the bob and tilt of the helmet was only making the problem worse-- that and she reasoned she tied her hair too tightly. "Hey," Constrace thumped her boot against Bentil's side. It wasn't hard, but Bentil still looked up at her with a hurt expression, his wispy half-beard quivering. "Oh come on, I have a migraine too. You don't have to be so dramatic," Constrace rolled her eyes. Bentil chewed the inside of his cheek, "But this feels serious Constrace! I mean, it's like I'm hearing things! You've heard the stories about soldiers that have fireballs go off by their heads and they hear the 'fwoooosh' for the rest of their lives! What if that's it w--" "You don't have tinnitus, besides, when has a fireball gone off by your face?" Constrace asked annoyed. Her own headache was doing nothing to soften her mood or patience. "When I was sleeping then something may have crawled inside..." Bentil turned green. Constrace had enough. She scooped down and lifted the man to his feet, eyes narrowed. "Did you not hear me? I said I have it too," she spat. Bentil's face went pale. Constrace was one of the top stewards of her age group and he didn't have to think too long about who could kick the other's ass. "Y-You do?" He questioned with all the bravado of a sickened puppy. Their little farce on the streets had drawn a few gazes from the business owners and other stewards on the street. Another, a steward who must have only been in his first term, cautiously approached from the portcullis he guarded. "Did you say you guys have headaches...?" He questioned while clutching his spear in two hands. After the got close to the he leaned his temples in to press against the cool iron shaft of the spear. "I woke up with one too." Constrace felt her breath leave her body. She took a quick look around. No kids were running around and playing, no lively conversations, no real loud noises at all. Vrrrr.... "A noise. A buzzing sound." She flipped around to Bentil and the younger steward. "Do you two hear this kinda.. uh, you know, like a 'brvvrrrrrr' in your heads?" The two started, and each gave a nod. Constrace whipped around and briskly entered the closest business she could find. Walking into a distinctly customer-lacking bookstore, Constrace approached the front counter. An woman in her 50's sat slightly slouched, a glass of softly fizzing water at her side. She looked nervous as the steward approached. "Oh dear. Good morning steward, may I help you?" she politely asked. "Good day Ma'am. Just a question," Constrace's eyes darted to the water, "Do you happen to have a headache?" The bookkeeper blinked in recognition and surprise before giving a little chuckle and nod, "Oh gosh.. yes. Was it that obvious?" Constrace shook her head and turned to leave. "Thank you, Ma'am." Out on the street Bentil and the other steward, who Bentil had discovered was named Tymas, turned back to Constrace when she reemerged. "Lady inside's got it too," she told the group as she approached. "Not just her, everyone on the street said they hear it too," Tymas said worriedly. "Then the Order likely knows already," Bentil reasoned. "That they do. But you realize what this could be right?" Constrace warned. The other two just shot an unknowing look at each other. Constrace walked a few steps. Memories from past history lessons came flooding back, about all kinds of experimental weaponry and the great catastrophe at the end of the War of the Ageless. "A mass spell attack."
A gasp of ecstasy left Fraz's cracked lips. Now he was beginning to hear them! Their worry, their panic. They were becoming aware. Fraz new quite well that the mewling masses of Sonnerand had discovered spellcraft, but he was almost positive that none of them had unlocked the secrets of their own system like he had. 'I feel like my head's about to pop.' 'Make it stop.'
'Shouldn't have been out all night.' 'Nothing's helping.' 'Make it stop.' 'Tried everything.'
How glorious were their thoughts, their confusion, their panic. 'The pain.' 'My eyes feel heavy.' 'Nothing works.'
'I hate this.'
'Paaain...' 'Mama, it hurts, I'm scared!' 'Make it stop!!' Fraz shut his eyes and focused once more. His body was beginning to slowly fall. Now, a smile twisted upon his hips as he felt himself beginning to drop, involuntarily lured in by the foul thoughts and poor mood of the city below. And with proximity, came power.
Doorrrraaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn....Doooorrraaaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn.... Many bloodshot eyes wildly looked around gathering crowds as the warning sirens of Lafin Keep began to sound. All around the Keep, residents and stewards alike rushed in a panic towards the main citadel. To a select few, those who stood in the central-most tower of the Keep, these were sirens that hadn't been heard since the last war. Most had never heard the wailing keen. Constrace and Bentil stood in a sandstone chamber lit by various orange-burning sconces along with numerous other stewards. The sirens were muffled, but still send a slight rumble through the stone. The buzzing noise, however, was just as acute. The pair watched as two men in fancy clothing attempted to match movements in a slow swaying dance. Their eyes were locked on each other and faint traces of yellow-green light could be seen burning from the tips of their fingers. As they moved in their precise and practiced ways, the great lengths of chain both wore from their hips let out a mild jangle. Behind the men, many of the most decorated Knights of the Holy Order bickered amongst each other in hurried hushed whispers. Constrace knew they were talking about strategies, both for possible evacuation and retaliation. The only issue was that their enemy was unknown. A ray of light slung away from one of the spellcaster's fingers! It shot up towards the ceiling before vanishing. The man whipped around to the Holy Order. "Would you all please allow us a moment of quiet?!" the man wearing a copper chain who lost the spell turned on the Knights, "It's already extremely difficult to cast this level of magic with this constant buzzing-- shut. UP!" This garnered the man a number of venomous gazes from the practiced Knights. Constrace imagined that it couldn't be easy-- the Knights were known for their prowess in battle and courage. To not only be completely unaware of their adversary, but to also rely on members of The Linkage... "Rab, that is far from necessary," the other man, who wore a length of silver, said in a stoic voice. "Why do we need them here? We must focus!" Rab frustratedly crooned. Silver Chain's lips tightened, "Your movements. Block out everything. Focus on the craft. We will go slower this time. Do not push anger into your magics, Rab. We begin again." The two began the movements again, this time taking an excruciatingly slow approach to the spellcasting. The congregation of stewards and knights remained silent for the next five minutes. Vrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr..... "Uh, Constrace... did it just get louder?" Bentil leaned in and whispered. "-Shh!" Constrace's brow was furrowed. Indeed it had gotten louder and a quick visual sweep of the room confirmed the others probably felt it as well. Constrace glanced at the spellcasters, and saw veins protruding from their temples. Deeehh-teckt Magicks! The dialect of power ripped through the room as the spell came to its abrupt end! From the spellcaster's hands the green energy burst. An expansive bubble exploded out from between the men, harmlessly passing through Constrace and the other. Static electricity and ozone filled the room, and a shiver went down Constrace's spine as the mages opened their now glowing eyes. Silver Chain gasped. Rab fell down on his backside. "It's... it's I--" Silver seemed lost for words. "Everywhere." Rab marveled as he gazed at the invisible spectrum only he could see. "It's.. everywhere." "What's the type, dammit?! Quit gawking and dispel it already!" A Knight roared from the back of the room. Silver stood up. Focused, intent. He reached his arms out, and allowed the sleeves to fall. His forearms were covered in a tattooed series of twisting golden lines and patterns. "--An enchantment." He settled his breathing, "One we are all in, likely the whole Keep. Please... a moment." His arms pushed down! He took in a great inhale as his fingers gripped some unseen force. For a brief moment, everyone in the room watched as the matrix of magic was visible, clenched tight between Silver's hands! The golden tattoos then began to glow, brighter, hotter, brighter than the sconces, brighter than mage-lights, brighter than the sun. Constrace felt herself take a few steps back. She did not know much about spellcasting. But what she did know was that bright and intense meant high-level, and high-level meant dangerous. Bentil shared her concern, his troubled and frightened expression snapping back to her as the mage began to cast. "Poltle!! Wait!!" Rab reached up, but too late. Deehhh-shpoil Magicks! "NO!" The chain's hands blasted skyward! And for a brief moment a crackling red energy surged through his hands. And then there was a pause. And then the Silver Chain was no more. The sound of wet tearing paper erupted from Poltle the Silver Chain's body. The energy immediately halted. Glassy eyes, bewildered and wild, looked down to his torso. "Wha-" ShRRRRRRRRRRR-- Screams filled the room as the man's body turned inside out. The process was quick and seemless, like unraveling a tangle that'd always been there. His arms cracked as the twisted into weird positions from his shoulders and his legs impacted upwards, into the pelvis and out of sight. The gruesome scene was already sending terrified stewards out of the chamber. But all in the room would be frightened if they saw what Rab saw. The young Copper Chain still had his detection spell active, and only he could see the all-encompassing enchanted energy swirling and stirring in the room. It was like a bathtub being drained, he thought, and the whirlpool of magic potential was now streaming directly into his teacher's body.
"Ohhaohooho," Fraz's laugh was alien, "They never do learn, no matter where you go." He wasn't speaking to anyone in particular, other than perhaps his own madness. Fraz could see his own spell's energy without the need for auxiliary magic craft. He could see the large sphere shrink. Someone had tried to dismantle his spell. Very good. He was now sinking below the clouds, feeling the weight of his body growing heavier, and heavier. Their terror was growing, their despair was increasing, and now-- they had tripped the true ability of his annoying little trick.
The demented twisted around mouth of the Silver Chain began to let out a guttural growl from within his epidermal throat. "GaHH-V-VRRRRRRRR!!" The same noise! "VRR--HECahcc!!" Constrace moved. More screams. But now they were for her. Constrace watched Silver Chain's twisted around head slide and drop, silenced by the commotion-ending blade of her shortsword. "C-Constrace wh--" Bentil began to call. "Already dead!" Constrace screamed back. "This isn't something we can handle. We have to go! Everyone has to go. NOW!" But no one moved. The buzzing was still in their heads. And then the corpse began to cough. A sickly sound of blood and phlegm mixing. Rab, the Copper Chain, frantically shifted his focus from Constrace to the body of the Silver Chain. Constrace jabbed down again, directly into the chest, scowling at the knights. A senior Knight, Sir Norimirah, then called out, "Take the wizard's body, go to the streets, tell all magic users that spellcasting is off-limits until we can escape the keep. And someone," he looked at Constrace with a nod, "find me the source of this." Constrace felt the surge of authority rush through her. She didn't smile, but her returning nod carried her appreciation towards the experienced Knight. "Yes sir!" Bentil returned. He and a few other stewards started for the sundered body of the wizard. Constrace turned to leave. Rab, who had been sitting through it all, felt himself in a daze. He knew far more about magic than, currently, anyone else in the room. Whatever this was, he knew, went beyond a mere mage-terrorist. Then, he saw the most beautiful sight with his enhanced vision. The body of the Silver Chain, just one rank away from joining the most esteemed scholars of The Linkage, began to change color. Not to anyone else, but only to Rab and his magic vision. The green glimmer of enchantment began to blacken into a bruise-blue colored necrotic mass. "W-Wait... maybe don't touch that..." the stunned man watched the stewards approached. "We shouldn't keep touching everythin--" "-We will make sure he gets his honors," Bentil cut him off, "You should go and use your tricks to help people." His ire was clear. "Hey, could I get some help?" Another steward took up the opposite side of Poltle's body. The Knights began to stream out into other hallways. "Come on," Bentil said with a huff, "Lift, dammit." The other steward tried to adjust his grip... but could not. Bentil tried to do the same, and found himself in a likewise situation. His palms were clung to the man's shoulders. Bentil and the steward, one who Bentil never bothered to meet, would exchange shocked glances. It would be their last look. Heads snapped back, jaws cracked open unnaturally wide. And the noise came. VRRRRRR!! Constrace halted in her tracks. Blood squirted out from the sides of their temples as their knees buckled out from under them. Both young men kneeled beside the gruesome sight of the Silver Chain, who had also begun to let out the noise. Rab, who still hadn't gotten up... was directly in front of them. The noise, the awful noise, the noise that had been in his head all day now kneeled screaming before him. So loud, so cacophonous, so terrible. Mixed and amplified by whatever was happening, now growing even more powerful. Poltle had been one of the best mages in the south... and now... the hopelessness... the pointlessness... Rab reached out and touched the three, and joined the choir that would spell the end for Lafin keep.
Fraz stood atop one of the Keep's many tall spires, his eyes shut and at peace as he waved his hands about like a conductor. With every passing minute the buzzing sound was getting louder, the pitches of different roaring raw larynx's made an utter discord to the air around him. Why, they were nearly about to drown out the sirens, Fraz thought with great delight. He looked down and saw now, the mass that was beginning to bulge from one of the windows down below. That must have been where it began, Fraz reasoned. A few more minutes passed, and they were out the door. There must have been well over 400 bodies in the mass-- oh how the echoing of such spacious chambers must have amplified the effect! And there were even more now, with the drone so loud, Fraz watched as dozens of people began to mindlessly pace towards the amalgamation he had set in motion. Like zombies, they reached out and willingly submitted themselves to the drone, joining their voice in the mix. Of course, there were those who were less resistant. Even now Fraz noted with a great deal of demonic glee that there were flashes of red still being cast into the street by those more stalwart defenders of this paltry human castle. Fraz cast an easy glance up into the clouds where he stood only an hour prior. Yes, now he felt it, that sizzling burning energy that seemed to surround this place... it was going away. The reliquary guards were gone, the robed figures joined into his own mass, praising and singing his own services and psalms. Fraz knew not what god held dominion over this place and these people-- but he had taken it for himself. "Seems like that's one thing I don't have to worry about here, eh?" He addressed whatever deity this Keep directly worshipped . "I win." He leapt from the top of the roof, and began to aid his own horrors.
Half an hour passed and the town had been neutralized. Fraz walked through the now silent streets. Once every man, woman, and child had joined the mass, there was no longer any need for the drone. Now Fraz strolled through the streets alone with his thoughts, but surrounded by convoluted maladies. It reminded the beast of home. He had erected columns of flesh, stairways of bone, and chambers of blood-drenched tissue. Once again, Fraz found himself enamored by the magic of this land. In his home such a scene would only be possible by tapping directly into the intrinsic foul and vile energies of the Abyss. Here... it shaped for him, rearranged its composition for him, and followed his orders exactly. Like the magic was obedient. And Fraz figured he had only scratched the surface. A small cough took him unaware. A young woman in ripped armor used the one hand she had left to try and tear herself away from the mausoleum of bodies. Her eyes had lost a great deal of light, and she was clearly and pitifully in the throws of her own belied death. "There, there, child." Fraz purred in an almost warm tone. He found tenacity to be utterly abhorrent, but respected such spirited resistance to something that was so very clearly unavoidable. His thumb and forefinger, both the size of the woman's wrist, cupped underneath her chin to life her face. Constrace tried not to let out a scream. She had been the last, the last to go screaming into this building of companions and citizens. She saw friends and mentors bent and broken into walls and floors, the children as ornaments and art pieces, the elders as the foundations-- hidden beneath the blood dripping mass. Constrace had felt the cruel drone well up in her throat for a few awful moments, the burning as her arm melted into the column she now leaned again. And now, she was staring at something. Even in her waning mind, she knew it to be the cause-- how could it not be. Never before had the girl seen such a creature. It was an idol of hatred and evil. An uncanny gargoyle with a face that shared more human than beastial features. She felt the blue fur of his fingers on her neck. It felt almost supple. "Yes. You'll do." Fraz stepped away, his eyes flashed. Constrace felt something bore into her mind like a drill. That same drone sounded again. But this time, it was direct, loud, and mindspiking. And now Constrace let out her screams. Fraz found the information he wanted. He began to search his own monument. The boy she loved. He would make a fine standard. Bentil was found, taken back, and flayed before Constrace's eyes. "And now... my standard bearer." Fraz said in the same warm tone he had kept turning the sickening process. "You shall serve a far better purpose than galvanting for some unanswering god." A sheet of Bentil's flesh was forced into Constrace's free hand. It burned. She was fused. She found herself losing everying. She found herself losing the world around her. "Fear not... in a hundred years or more you two shall find each other again." Fraz smiled, "As the stewards of my dominion. And for you, I shall give you purpose." It was the only lingering fragment of hope Constrace would receive as her eyes shut forever.
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