The Dissent of Man

[Duvet de Mot]

The pair's faces could not have relayed a better illustration of their personal stories as they listened to Ardin impart upon them The Council's decision. The daughter's face was pained and hurt, her emotions projecting themselves through her eyes and troubled brow; while, the father fumed with anger, his eyes smoldering and voice burning with a freezing fury as he raged at Ardin in hushed tones. “Allow me to make this painfully clear, Doorkeeper, your Council holds no authority over myself nor my daughter. I don’t care what you’ve heard about Marielen, but I won’t have you speak down on her in this manner. And if what your blind seer says is true we now face a full Auxilary, a force that would have little trouble cutting the throats of this sad excuse for a contingent. Tell me again how my daughter is so safe under your care if she is to be thrown into such danger!”

Small paling yellow sparks flicked across Ardin's fingertips as he listened to the insolent tactician before him question The Council and himself without any concern towards the repercussions upon himself or his daughter. What could this man possibly be thinking? Was he blind to the power his daughter held? Ardin's eyes narrowed in the closest to rage he could manage as he softly hissed at the middle-aged man. "Andolin Dobatte... I would suggest that you question yourself before you speak in the future. Every individual in this room has escaped death against insurmountable odds on more occasions than I could dare to guess." The Gatekeeper took a bold step towards the rage-fueled militarian, his clear blue eyes piercing up into Andolin's dark superiority-sure eyes, while his snow-white hair fell back in wisps. "We are survivors. Do you believe The Conclave, our cause, to be misguided or incompetent? I have been a warrior longer than you have been breathing upon this world and you question me? Your daughter is a Guardian no matter your choice to accept her for who she is. Her body holds the potential for more power and destruction than you can fathom. To ignore I or The Council's instructions in this matter would be folly, not to mention presumptuous give it was your choice to seek our assistance. I understand what Marielen is capable of and without control, every person around her is in mortal peril, including you."

With hand upon the ceremonial sword resting within his belt and a true hint of anger fell upon Ardin's lips, Ardin allowed words of rage to flow from his lips, "If you were any other man, I would not hesitate to-", just as he found himself cut off by the young Marielen. "As much as I resent being told that I am a liability, this 'council' is right." Ardin's eyes met hers as a clear look of agitation fell upon her face. She may not have been pleased with the arrangement, but it was clear that Marielen understood its merits. "If what I did was truly so terrible as to cause alarm among this council, then training is exactly what I need. I do not want to be dead weight for this cause, father. I want to protect people and help them. If I cannot control my abilities, what use am I? And...perhaps when I am trained, I can go home. Maybe see Rodric again."

Ardin's heart pained him suddenly. Andolin had torn his daughter from her fiancée to keep her safe; however, it was clear that she was convinced of her ability to rejoin her love one day. Ardin's eyes averted away from her's, his head hanging forward slightly in sadness. If she and this Rodric met once more, Ardin knew it would most likely be on the battlefield.

[TragicAce]

The old man’s words may not have silenced him, but they did quiet his words. There was some wisdom in the aged melder, Andolin was not blind to this. No tactician worth his salt failed to look at the other side’s angle, every notable victory had a notable defeat. Learning and understanding both was just one of the keys to successful thinking, be it in the battlefield or your upstairs study. And he realized that there was a deal of emotion with regards to the recent events and his daughter’s wellbeing that only served to cloud his judgement.

He took a breath which signaled for his muscles to relax. Acknowledging his lack of knowledge on melders who couldn’t control their powers, the Gatekeeper’s point was well placed. Andolin would ‘give in’, but for this reason alone. “Very well, melder Ardin. You may be surprised, but I am not near so stubborn a man as I would appear. For my daughter’s sake, we shall align ourselves to your interests.” His daughter was hopeful to return home after she was less hazardous, but what fate awaited them there was imprisonment or worse. A normal and peaceful life, it seemed, was a dream the people present could never have.

The elf was making a ruckus on foolhardy battle plans—it was like a master scholar of history watching a young student brutalize the entire retelling of the Upheaval. Andolin would have to set things straight before they all ended up dead. Before he left the Gatekeeper’s company, he would leave him with a few learned words. “No cause is ever completely true or false, and fighting for one is far different then believing in it. If you hold issue with my questioning, know that I’ve made a very successful career by questioning my superior officers.”

Ando would rejoin the main company-if this lot could even be described as such-and immediately switching from ‘overprotective father’ mode to ‘esteemed tactician’ mode. He wasted little breath giving orders:

“Elf, the scheme you have surmised is a textbook example of stupidity. Your crucial mistake in reasoning is that you fail to acknowledge the motivation of your enemy in any sort of context.” He took another breath and made sure he spoke loud enough for all to hear. “We have an auxiliary unit guided by a melder, deep in the middle of seemingly nowhere. The Sighted has told us their intentions are clear. What can we then reason from this?”

“Firstly, captive and-“ Andolin hesitated a bit, given the company he was in “-trained melders are a rarity among the Legion, and no single Auxilary would ever be in possession of one. Therefore we conclude they are a special operations unit, that their mission is very certain and that they will not be deterred from it. Their location out in this wilderness only confirms this thinking.”

“We can assume they are aware of the Pathfinder’s presence in the area, and that they will not leave until he is secured. They will kill on sight anyone who could possibly fit the description of a Pathfinder, that is, each and every one of us save perhaps the Proditare. Given what rough estimations I have been able to discern about our individual strengths and the situation at hand, I propose the following strategy. It holds the least amount of risk and greatest chance of completing our objective.”

“The elf Veron and Gatekeeper Ardin are our best fighters and hold a solid grasp of the local terrain. They will come upon the enemy Auxilary in cover, and assassinate the Sighter at range with bow and arrow. Have you any qualms about doing so, know that he has chosen to betray his savior and ruin your Conclave’s cause. Your escape will hold some deal of risk, and you will take a roundabout route of approximately a day or more before you meet with the main group—until you can be sure you are not followed. Without the melder they will not be able to detect our movements.”

“For the remainder of us our task is simple, acquire the Pathfinder as soon as possible. Hurry, we waste precious time!”

[NicoJoe]

Veron was more than welcome to other ideas and input from Andolin, but his blatant disrespect was not needed nor deserved. His idea was not stupid. It may not have been the best plan and Andolin’s may well have been a better one, but Veron did see a flaw with it.

“Why wouldn’t their melder see us coming?” the Elfin Exusiai chimed. “As we draw closer to them, the more keen the melder would be to our presence and by the time we were in range to take a shot, they would undoubtedly know we were there and then it would pit Ardin and myself in a fight with an entire Auxiliary who would be defending that melder with all they had. If we die before it, they can still make their way to the Pathfinder.”

Veron moved back to his seat, looking up at the esteemed tactician with genuine curiosity in his eyes. He wasn’t trying to show Andolin up, he simply wanted to be sure they had the best possible plan. “If this is the plan we are to use, then I suggest, at the least, that Deras accompany Ardin and me; to even up a fight in the case that something goes wrong.” He then turned his eyes to Ardin and spoke once more, “I do not doubt your proficiency with a bow or in battle. I simply wish not to have the odds on my side.”

[Duvet de Mot]

Time was not an ally in this battle and Ardin recognized this fact all too readily. Within moments of Veron's adamant reply, the entire group of Conclave agents had doused the torches, hoisted their supplies and weaponry upon their back and left the mine upon Ardin's orders. It was not that Veron did not make a valid point; it was merely the time they had was not ideal for this operation.

Twenty minutes later, Ardin, Veron, and Deras had watched as Vasilisa and Andolin led the main group forward through the forest and were now simultaneousness tracking their and the Auxiliary's progress from a low ridge on the south side of the mountain. The Archonites were clearly not being led by a Sighted, as they wandered through the moonlit trees in the general direction which Vasilisa was leading the main group of Conclave; however, given another fifteen minutes, it was likely that the two groups would be on top of one another. Ardin lowered the spyglass from his glimmering eye and considered the scene for a moment. Tapping Veron on the shoulder lightly, he whispered urgently to the elf, "It's time."

[NicoJoe]

Veron wasn’t the most skilled with a bow but of the three in his company he was the best shot. Drawing the bow he had picked up from the pile, the elf lined up his shot. The wind was quiet, thankfully, and Veron was confident in his abilities for the moment. He followed the melder with the sight of the bow but he was still obstructed by trees and any shot he took was more likely to only give away their position rather than kill the melder. It was obvious who the target was as he was dwarfed by the size of the his Archonite compatriots. He was dressed in a simple, the hood pulled over his face to conceal it from, as far as Veron could tell, the owls.

Up ahead of the Auxiliary was a clearing. The melder was apparently leading them toward it so Veron focused his shot there. He knew that as soon as the melder went down, the others would be on the war path. Any Auxiliary, especially a special ops team, would be able to find the source of the arrow within seconds. He just wasn’t sure if they would retaliate or continue toward the Pathfinder. It didn’t matter. They entered the clearing and Veron’s mind focused on the melder. He aimed. He fired.

The Former died.

No sooner did his body fall than did the Auxiliary look in their direction. Veron looked to his band, “We need to go.”

[TragicAce]

Andolin was by no means a master tracker and from the expressions of his companions, well, neither were they. Not knowing any information about who their target was didn’t help much either. This terrain wasn’t familiar with any of them, but he knew that back when he was organizing their strategy. The Elf deemed it necessary to bring the Proditare along with him-time was too precious for Andolin to argue otherwise. It would make little difference-three men or two against a full Auxiliary still equated to the same result. Annihilation. They only added risk of the Proditare betraying them to the Auxilary by bringing him along.

But those matters didn’t concern him right now. He kept a swift pace as he looked around in the deep underbrush. If the group hadn’t the blind seer’s guidance the tactician knew they’d be walking in circles for days without so much a glimpse of the target. Even still, with night colored only by the clouded moon the task no easy matter. His eyes went towards his daughter as he began to think up a contingency plan. He was not about to walk around until the Auxilary was upon them. They were approaching a mining area which was certain to have some Legion presence. If they could not find him, he’d tell the group to scatter-to keep themselves safe and alive. He’d take Marielen east, perhaps to-

-movement on his right caught his attention. His sword was half-raised from his scabbard before he was able to confirm it not a threat. There was someone in a pile of leaves, likely right where the Sighter had indicated (if his mental map of the area served him correctly). “Gather, quick! I believe I’ve found what it is we’re looking for.”

[Wendy Ann Beckett-Jolina]

Adelaide's dreams were often wonderful, and this was obviously no exception.

They were all there. All of them, from her burly father to her brother Darian who'd betrayed them all were reaching out to her, beckoning her to join them. It seemed surreal, she pondered as she walked towards them, that they were all her even though most of them...

They were dead.

At this revelation, the picture disappeared, all the faces of her loved ones melting away like wax. Calling out in grief and fear, she sprinted to them. But by the time the girl reached them, it was only Darian left, a darkness in his eyes as he spoke what would always be his final words.
You're too late, little Addie....


The teenager woke in a cold sweat, jerking from the sudden change of consciousness. The leaves beneath her rustled at her movement, and she immediately heard the unmistakable sound of sliding metal, followed by a man's voice. He said... he said that he'd found what they were looking for... She panicked.

Standing quickly, she backed away, holding her hands in front of her protective. The trembling in her voice matched the trembling of her body as she spoke."I... I don't mean any harm... I don't have any thing to give you.. Please, leave me be...!"

[Gafe]

Now, for the record, Deras wasn't completely convinced with the plan Andolin and Veron had crafted, but again, he had to prove his loyalty somehow. Facing other Archonites in battle, an Auxiliary no less, seemed a better chance than any. A special operations Auxiliary. If he was recognized it would certainly be a suicide mission though his Proditare status might take his fellow Archonites' attention from Andolin and Veron. The thought didn't comfort him in the least. If anything, his palms began sweating.

Unconsciously, he held his breath as the elf aimed the fateful arrow with the Melder's name on it. His eyelids gently brushed against each other as arrowhead met skin. And then he ran. The handle of the axe lightly slipped in his grasp. The vegetation underfoot hissed at his jog. His mind screamed for self-survival. His thoughts unequivocally traveled to his increasingly graying armor. His insides screamed louder.

The eyes of the Proditare set their blue irises on the agile Veron, a couple of paces ahead of him before travelling to Ardin beside him. The man was old, but Deras had to admit age had probably done little against him. In fact, it'd probably done lots for the Gatekeeper, what with all the experience he'd gathered and the further training he'd gone through. At least Deras thought so.

The Archonite imagined that the adrenaline rush he felt was similar to that perceived when falling for long distances. Fear trickled up his spine. He had never before run from a special task Auxiliary. An Archonite or two, sure, and he could handle such pressure. But six made doom so much more probable. He'd detested Proditares when he was younger. Deras knew the kind of eyes the Auxiliary looked at him with. Scorching hatred. Whether they recognized him or not was irrelevant, he was running alongside an elf who'd shot down a Melder of the Legion and that was clearly an indicator of betrayal

Deras Mayugani looked behind him. Five Archonites straggled behind the three Conclavites, he couldn't see them properly between the trees' cover, though they were certainly keeping up. However, another one, the Decurion most likely, was ahead. He was gaining on them. Deras stared back, trying to recognize the Archonite.

And he saw it.

He saw the flames in his eyes.

[NicoJoe]

Veron ran.

He ran as fast as he could, which was with at a quite impressive speed, but he could feel the Auxiliary behind him, gaining on him. They weren’t going away, they had already made up the distance and they showed no signs of letting up. One in particular was gaining on them, the Decurion no doubt. His movements were more fluid than that of any Archonite Veron had ever seen. He moved with speed and precision, not a misstep to speak of, and with very step he grew faster. It was only a matter of time before he was upon them and Veron feared for his team. He knew they stood little chance against a full Auxiliary, especially one with this Decurion. Ardin was behind Veron, keeping pace with him and Deras was barely a step behind the Gatekeeper. He didn’t know how far they could run, but he thought that, however far that was, the Auxiliary could for farther. They had to escape, not evade.

There was a waterfall up ahead, Veron could hear the rushing water and could feel the moist air. He veered toward the sound, leading his company with him. Around him, the birds chirped. They could feel something different in the air, why else would they be awake? Either they were disturbed by the pursuit, or they could feel the soul of the Pathfinder. Veron silently prayed the others had found the Pathfinder.

There it was; a waterfall leading down into who knows what. The darkness hid whatever waited at the bottom of the waterfall. Jumping was a risk, but running was a death sentence. He didn’t stop running but he spoke to his compatriots,

“Jump?” it seemed like a stupid question but they had little time to decide, maybe ten seconds before they reached the waterfall and maybe twenty before the Archonites were on them. They had to choose.

[Duvet de Mot]

Against all odds, Veron's arrow had flown straight and true into Simeron's neck, prompting a warm, sanguine fountain to rush forth, drenching his left shoulder in blood and causing a gurgling to emanate from his throat as he collapsed into a heap on the ground.

Aurides's eyes glanced from the arrow in Simeron's neck to three lone figures on a ridge to their left, fleeing from the area with extreme haste. A scarred, unarmored hand flew in the air and flicked forward near as swiftly as he bolted forth into the depths of the forest after the assassins, the full Auxiliary following shortly after. Crackling underbrush and thundering trampling echoed both before and behind Aurides as he sprinted to reach the nearest of the three shades amongst the trees. All at once, a flash of moonlight spread out in the small clearing ahead, illuminating the strong and haggard old Melder, a swift and sturdy Elf, and an Archonite...

That armor...

The grey and blue armor was unmistakable, even in this light. Aurides's bare right arm burned with the memory of that night his family was taken from him by the reckless actions of the Proditare before him.

Several hundred meters ahead, the trio had stopped at a cliff, the sound of rushing water masking their words. Aurides pushed himself harder, only to watch the old Melder push the elf and Deras over the cliff and a flash of light sear pain into his body, leaving him unconscious on the forest floor.

____________________________________________________

"GO!" Ardin grabbed Veron and Deras by their arms and slung them over the cliff face and into the waterfall below, his heartbeat replacing all sounds around him. Instead, he close his eyes to the world, opening his essence to the Soul. The water's path and nature, the wind's journey, the soil's depth and the stone's body... Everything was clear. Ardin's existence flickered for a brief moment as the Soul converged on him before surging outward in an explosion of blinding flashes of lightning and gaseous energies upon the Auxiliary. Every muscle in his body relaxed and gave out from the strain of channeling the Soul so intensely, causing Ardin to collapse and tumble off of the cliff, into the chilling waters below.

____________________________________________________

Naius and Kazan could feel the ground slip away from their feet and meet their backs as the blinding light enveloped Decurion Aurides and the other three members of their Auxiliary. Naius instantly scrambled about, attempting to gain his balance even in light of the fact that his eyes could hardly make out his surroundings past the swirling afterimage left upon his eyes. His steps were cautious, hands outstretched as he found a nearby tree and desperately clung to it. Heavy breaths and his heart beating in his ears were the only sounds he could make sense of in his present situation, save for the piercing voice echoing through the forest, the source nearby.

"Please, leave me be...!"

"Naius, did you hear that?"

Naius swung around to see the looming figure of Kazan striding toward him, eyes searching beyond the trees and into the forest.

"Yes, Kazan... It could very well be their Pathfinder. What of the others?"

Giving a passing glance behind him at the four bodies lying in heaps on the ground, Kazan scoffed at the suggestion, his eyes turning towards Naius's.

"They were not strong enough to overcome that Melder's abilities. We are better off completely the mission, ourselves. Come."

Kazan strode forth towards the source of the commotion, blade in hand, as Naius nervously jogged to catch up to him.

[NicoJoe]

For the first few moments of the fall, Veron just relished in the solace one feels when falling. For most, it’s terrifying to be hurled over a cliff with no guarantee that you will meet anything but jagged rocks and death, but for the elf it was exhilarating. There’s something about having no control over your destiny that had a freeing sensation for Veron.

Veron moved his body into a diving position, pointing his head toward the waters below and hoped for the best. The wind flew by his ears as he picked up speed and all he could hear was the thundering of the rushing water. He closed his eyes and braced for impact, blocking out the other two people with him. He was close now, could feel the mist from the water flowing into his face just before impact.

No rocks.

The plunge was icy but that was nothing the elf hadn’t felt before. He instantly began to swim, stroking his way through water, though the heavy currents were moving him more than his own power. He just drifted along with the waves until he hit the bank of the river and hauled himself onshore. He looked to the water again, searching for his fellow companions. He didn’t see them. All he saw was darkness, water, and two figures standing above them on the cliff. Veron stared at them for a second and then they left. The Archonites, no doubt. They’d either rgiven up or were finding another way down. Either way, the Exusiai and his band had little time. They needed to surface and soon.