nortromthesilencer

[nortromthesilencer]

"No."

[nortromthesilencer]

The voice in his head was whatever the small-Keen wanted it to be. There was no singular being projecting words into his mind like a conversation, but a tone relating more to the concept of how Rizzrack thought it should sound.

"We are all, and all are we." The confident echo of such a statement made it quite hard to dismiss or reject, "You come in doubtful death, but arrived before, in life. You cut. You persue. You hide."

With each shifting thought, the stone pulsed. Did it know his thoughts and questions, or merely project what his own thoughts may have been back at him? Perhaps his confusion was just so obvious to even this... thing?

"Another will twists this world. A war between selves. You and we are linked- in protecting you, you protect us. We direct. You cut. We point. You sever. You are safe with us, so long as you provide us safety. This is the pact, the Radiant dogma. In doing so, you know it to be true that we shall grant what your heart most desires in the end."

***

Despite his taller figure, the others looked down their noses at him from their elevated desks. Despite this, it was the ones at parity that intimidated him more; their faces known to him in greater detail and their opinions held in higher reguard. His own people. His own order.

Even with such judgement, the Silencer remained stone faced and ridgid, hands clasped behind his back and granting none of those presesnt direct eye contact.

"The actions taken were in direct connection to all that had transpired, leading to even more negative outcomes. As reported prior to my recovery, there was indeed another Keen involved that had prior employment with the Tyler Estate- this was correct," But was it related to why he had disapeared along with Rizzrack? No, not really. Some information was better left excluded, "Followup from involved parties led to conflict," The involved parties being himself and Rizzrack; again, let them believe what they will about Asche's involvement, "and the unfortunately manipulated small-Keen, Rizzrack's, untimely demise."

Technichal truths. Technichal lies. This was uncharacteristic for the Silencer who normally reported his involvement's accurately. Perhaps this was why even those who doubted kept their mouth's shut.

"So you were both abducted due to the previous project failing?" Well, mostly. Just how vague Nortrom was being did not sit well, even if he was believed.

"An abduction took place, you are correct, involving a forced relocation via teleportation scroll, to an area outside of Weepingrose. I am remiss to report Asch's whereabouts are currently unknown after all was said and done, but as far as I am aware all others involved have now been accounted for in some way."

Nortrom was so accustomed to telling the truth that even his lies were still forged in truths. He never did say he was abducted or the one that had done the abduction of Rizzrack, but hoped the implication would be enough to redirect attention from his own potential guilt. It was nervewracking to lie, even in scematics, to his superiours-- and oddly freeing.

"So this Rizzrack was not at direct fault, and is now deceased?"

"Yes. Now then, if we are done here, I have work to catch up on. " Nodding and turning about, a Factol of his order raised a hand as if to protest, being cut off by a faster and more abrupt member of the Quorum.

"We aren't done here Silencer, you can't just leave when you choose!" Her voice was elevated, already preturbed by how little information was actually presented despite what could be called a complete report. "You will get back here right now, and we might forgive this disrespect!"

Still leaving, back to those at the meeting, Nortrom dismisively waved off her words. "Or what? You'll fire me?" He scoffed, leaving all the same. They needed him more than he needed them- and for once, he was able to freely believe this without doubt.

They group went silent, then began to laugh. And laugh. And more laughter. "Oh boy, that's a good one! Us? Heroes? We server the Ancient, but we're not the heroes here!" As if on cue, they all pause, listening to some unseen voice, a call, and stop their glib conversation. "Speaking of- seems there's some trouble on the northern wall. We'll deal with it- you do whatever it is you heroes do!"

Leaving Rizzrack to his own devices, the small group of creeps rallied together and began their march onward. If there was trouble, no signs of it could be seen or heard here: merely a tranquillity not found elesewhere, a verdant green and glowing pale blue, and the softest notes of a song carried by the wind and barely perceviable. This place could have been outside of time itself with how disconected from the world it felt, how out of place... How mesmerizing.

***

While the notes were easy to read and understand, the news they convayed was anything but. Pinching the bridge of her nose, the older woman who had just finished reading through them groaned. "Both gone. No witnesses."

"That's correct ma'am."

She masaged her temples, still keeping her eyes closed, incredulous. At a loss for words, the woman waited for her assistant to continue.

"The uh- The Ah.. ahl dries?" Fidding with his gloves, the smaller fae like man looked wirey and childlike in compairison, despite beign a full grown man.

"Aeol Drias."

"Ah, right, thankyou ma'am. The A-oel Dria-as- he was back at their facilities recovering. Apparently he all but vanished, with no one seeing anybody leave..." More fidgiting, knowing full well this was not an ideal situation and hopinh not to be caught in any angry outbursts, "I- er, well the other Quorum members involved- they believe it to be related. Both of the disapearanced: The small-Keen and the Silencer. Similar time period, both involved in the same case, both without any witnesses."

"Hm. Didn't that same Keen say there was at least one other mastermind who got away? If I recall, he was the previous mechanic at the Tyler Estate as well."

"Oh! Right- yes. There was mention of that, and maybe wondering if he was involved in this new disapearance. Might be finishing what was started, or removing witnesses?"

"Whatever the case is, we don't want to jump to conclusions. Keep in touch with the others- I need a drink before dealing with this shit."

[nortromthesilencer]

Nortrom wiped the sweat from his brow, back leaning against one of the larger trees around the grove. With a furstrated throw, the shovel that had been in hand flew through the air and bounced off the first object it colided with; In this case, a small stump. Graves were dug, shards collected, items stowed. There was no reason for him to remain here.

Yet... Even in knowing that, there was a small flicker of thought fighting against the duty he knew he had to go back to. Just an ember, sparked that last evening, bidding him to disobey and cater to his own wishes for once. Perhaps if Rizzrack had still been there, the devil on his shoulder to light that fire, the man might have. Now, the guilt and apathetic fatigue smothered his contemplative will from earlier- It is what it is. He would return, and he would give everyone the explination they would likely demand.

Like silence, this ember was not so easilly extinguished however; merely covered up and hoped to be forgotten.

***

In his bid to follow the creeps path, Rizzrack may have found confusion in the sudden voice echoing across the ambient song around them. It spoke not words, but thoughts, enticing and beckoning him to take another path deeper into this strange location. The air itself cast an etherial glow from the ground fog, creating a barely visible trail away from the buildings and creeps. A hum of a mother baking on a peaceful afternoon, of a sudden realization after a long thought, of a welcoming home after a long travel--- A heroes welcome.

Despite the mounting bruises, lacerations, and other injuries: the fight persisted. For much of the altercation they were on a mostly equal footing, but Nortrom could tell he was at a disadvantage in strength and possibly experience. Hand to hand combat was not something he did often, nor something he opted to train beyond the basics.

That disadvantage came to a head when he found himself pinned, the weight of the other man forcing one of his arms down between a knee and his own torso, and the other held by hand. As for the one free hand belong to the druid? It had found Nortrom's face, again and again, taking full advantage of his sudden lack of mobility.

He tried to kick his legs forward, buck upwards, anything to get the other off ballance, but instead found his ears ringing and sight blurring. Blood splattered beteen them both, with some collecting down his throat, but any coughs were cut short by yet another blow. So this is how it ends huh? So be it, he went into this knowing full well the consiquence of loss, and couldn't concentrate on the thought anyhow.

The punching relented, less hits, less strength. From swolen eyes he looked up at the form, silhoutted by the moon. Great- was he going to draw this out? Most likely had a rant to give and gloating to do before finishing things... How annoying. Slowly, the Silencer realized the motions of convulsion were not his own breaths but from the Savatos; that the blood now soaking his shirt was dripping from above.

Confused, he managed to forcefully shift the held hand away, again noting the druid's grip had gone slack. With nothing left to stabalize his front, Savatos fell to the side and off Nortrom, with a wet slap. In his place, it was Rizzrack now standing above him, painted in macabre hues of red.

Nortrom was still disoriented. He was unable to process just what the hell had happened right away, each beat of his own heart ringing between his ears and throbbing at every sustained injury. Laboured breaths counted the seconds before he finally moved, painfully shifting to sit up with a grunt. Again he looked at Rizzrack, then the body of the druid. At this angle, he could see the destroyed flesh of the back, rivers of blood cascading into pools now feeding the earth.

A hiss forced it's way past his clentched teeth, inturupted by an aching cough from blood still running down his throat from a broken nose. Despite the fact his life had just been saved, his responce came in anger still overflowing from the fight just seconds ago.

"What- the- HELL, Rizzrack?"

[nortromthesilencer]

I'm gonna scrape the sebum off your body with my teeth.

"You are a disturbed individual that needs to remain as far away from me as possible."

[nortromthesilencer]

They group went silent, then began to laugh. And laugh. And more laughter. "Oh boy, that's a good one! Us? Heroes? We server the Ancient, but we're not the heroes here!" As if on cue, they all pause, listening to some unseen voice, a call, and stop their glib conversation. "Speaking of- seems there's some trouble on the northern wall. We'll deal with it- you do whatever it is you heroes do!"

Leaving Rizzrack to his own devices, the small group of creeps rallied together and began their march onward. If there was trouble, no signs of it could be seen or heard here: merely a tranquillity not found elesewhere, a verdant green and glowing pale blue, and the softest notes of a song carried by the wind and barely perceviable. This place could have been outside of time itself with how disconected from the world it felt, how out of place... How mesmerizing.

***

While the notes were easy to read and understand, the news they convayed was anything but. Pinching the bridge of her nose, the older woman who had just finished reading through them groaned. "Both gone. No witnesses."

"That's correct ma'am."

She masaged her temples, still keeping her eyes closed, incredulous. At a loss for words, the woman waited for her assistant to continue.

"The uh- The Ah.. ahl dries?" Fidding with his gloves, the smaller fae like man looked wirey and childlike in compairison, despite beign a full grown man.

"Aeol Drias."

"Ah, right, thankyou ma'am. The A-oel Dria-as- he was back at their facilities recovering. Apparently he all but vanished, with no one seeing anybody leave..." More fidgiting, knowing full well this was not an ideal situation and hopinh not to be caught in any angry outbursts, "I- er, well the other Quorum members involved- they believe it to be related. Both of the disapearanced: The small-Keen and the Silencer. Similar time period, both involved in the same case, both without any witnesses."

"Hm. Didn't that same Keen say there was at least one other mastermind who got away? If I recall, he was the previous mechanic at the Tyler Estate as well."

"Oh! Right- yes. There was mention of that, and maybe wondering if he was involved in this new disapearance. Might be finishing what was started, or removing witnesses?"

"Whatever the case is, we don't want to jump to conclusions. Keep in touch with the others- I need a drink before dealing with this shit."

Despite the mounting bruises, lacerations, and other injuries: the fight persisted. For much of the altercation they were on a mostly equal footing, but Nortrom could tell he was at a disadvantage in strength and possibly experience. Hand to hand combat was not something he did often, nor something he opted to train beyond the basics.

That disadvantage came to a head when he found himself pinned, the weight of the other man forcing one of his arms down between a knee and his own torso, and the other held by hand. As for the one free hand belong to the druid? It had found Nortrom's face, again and again, taking full advantage of his sudden lack of mobility.

He tried to kick his legs forward, buck upwards, anything to get the other off ballance, but instead found his ears ringing and sight blurring. Blood splattered beteen them both, with some collecting down his throat, but any coughs were cut short by yet another blow. So this is how it ends huh? So be it, he went into this knowing full well the consiquence of loss, and couldn't concentrate on the thought anyhow.

The punching relented, less hits, less strength. From swolen eyes he looked up at the form, silhoutted by the moon. Great- was he going to draw this out? Most likely had a rant to give and gloating to do before finishing things... How annoying. Slowly, the Silencer realized the motions of convulsion were not his own breaths but from the Savatos; that the blood now soaking his shirt was dripping from above.

Confused, he managed to forcefully shift the held hand away, again noting the druid's grip had gone slack. With nothing left to stabalize his front, Savatos fell to the side and off Nortrom, with a wet slap. In his place, it was Rizzrack now standing above him, painted in macabre hues of red.

Nortrom was still disoriented. He was unable to process just what the hell had happened right away, each beat of his own heart ringing between his ears and throbbing at every sustained injury. Laboured breaths counted the seconds before he finally moved, painfully shifting to sit up with a grunt. Again he looked at Rizzrack, then the body of the druid. At this angle, he could see the destroyed flesh of the back, rivers of blood cascading into pools now feeding the earth.

A hiss forced it's way past his clentched teeth, inturupted by an aching cough from blood still running down his throat from a broken nose. Despite the fact his life had just been saved, his responce came in anger still overflowing from the fight just seconds ago.

"What- the- HELL, Rizzrack?"

[nortromthesilencer]

"Oh well that explains it!" The creeps all nodded in unision, agreeing, "Everyone tends to get confused the first time."

Their conversation attracted the attention of a couple more of these odd creatures, but much larger with carved stone masks of an ornate nature. The towered above the others, and Rizzrack, but their posture was casual. One of the smaller creeps that had been speaking to Rizzrack noticed the pair, and waved, "A new hero- first time back. Standard stuff."

"Ah." One of the larger beings gave Rizzrack a welcoming nod before they both continued on their way.

"Anyways where were we- oh right! Death. No. Well, ok you were dead sorta, but because you're a Hero, the power of the Ancient keeps you tethered to life. So, pow! You wind up back here good as new. Mostly." "Only those chosen by the Ancient are protected." Another interjected from behind, angling itself to be seen from the back.

Despite the mounting bruises, lacerations, and other injuries: the fight persisted. For much of the altercation they were on a mostly equal footing, but Nortrom could tell he was at a disadvantage in strength and possibly experience. Hand to hand combat was not something he did often, nor something he opted to train beyond the basics.

That disadvantage came to a head when he found himself pinned, the weight of the other man forcing one of his arms down between a knee and his own torso, and the other held by hand. As for the one free hand belong to the druid? It had found Nortrom's face, again and again, taking full advantage of his sudden lack of mobility.

He tried to kick his legs forward, buck upwards, anything to get the other off ballance, but instead found his ears ringing and sight blurring. Blood splattered beteen them both, with some collecting down his throat, but any coughs were cut short by yet another blow. So this is how it ends huh? So be it, he went into this knowing full well the consiquence of loss, and couldn't concentrate on the thought anyhow.

The punching relented, less hits, less strength. From swolen eyes he looked up at the form, silhoutted by the moon. Great- was he going to draw this out? Most likely had a rant to give and gloating to do before finishing things... How annoying. Slowly, the Silencer realized the motions of convulsion were not his own breaths but from the Savatos; that the blood now soaking his shirt was dripping from above.

Confused, he managed to forcefully shift the held hand away, again noting the druid's grip had gone slack. With nothing left to stabalize his front, Savatos fell to the side and off Nortrom, with a wet slap. In his place, it was Rizzrack now standing above him, painted in macabre hues of red.

Nortrom was still disoriented. He was unable to process just what the hell had happened right away, each beat of his own heart ringing between his ears and throbbing at every sustained injury. Laboured breaths counted the seconds before he finally moved, painfully shifting to sit up with a grunt. Again he looked at Rizzrack, then the body of the druid. At this angle, he could see the destroyed flesh of the back, rivers of blood cascading into pools now feeding the earth.

A hiss forced it's way past his clentched teeth, inturupted by an aching cough from blood still running down his throat from a broken nose. Despite the fact his life had just been saved, his responce came in anger still overflowing from the fight just seconds ago.

"What- the- HELL, Rizzrack?"

[nortromthesilencer]

The creeps looked at one another in confusion. What did he mean ''what is here?' and why was he so confused? Sure, the fountain's rejuvinating properties could be disorienting to some of the chosen at first, but the usually knew what was going on.

"This is one of the Ancient offshoots- or more specifically, the spring where it's blessed waters flow." The speaker looked back at it's companions for reassurance, not sure what else to even say.

"You uh-- First time?" ***

Upon waking up, Nortrom stretched and immediately regretted it. He was still sore, very sore, despite the Bloodstone's rejuvinating effects. The evening was a blur of events, clouded by the damage he had taken and by the fact it all felt sureal in nature to begin with.

Stepping out of the tentlike shelter, the sun had already fully cleared the ground; Nortrom wasn't surprised he had slept in. He knew he had to move on from this place before anyone else stumbled across what had transpired, but first there was something that needed to be done... Or, there WAS something that needed to be done.

With annoyance and slight remorse, the Silencer very quickly noticed Rizzrack's corpse was not where he had left it the night before. Too tired to bury it the night before, Nortrom was going to do so after a rest. So much for that. His first assumption was that an animal or some form of wildlife had decided to drag it deeper into the trees and make the poor small-keen into a late night snack. How damned disapointing.

Despite the mounting bruises, lacerations, and other injuries: the fight persisted. For much of the altercation they were on a mostly equal footing, but Nortrom could tell he was at a disadvantage in strength and possibly experience. Hand to hand combat was not something he did often, nor something he opted to train beyond the basics.

That disadvantage came to a head when he found himself pinned, the weight of the other man forcing one of his arms down between a knee and his own torso, and the other held by hand. As for the one free hand belong to the druid? It had found Nortrom's face, again and again, taking full advantage of his sudden lack of mobility.

He tried to kick his legs forward, buck upwards, anything to get the other off ballance, but instead found his ears ringing and sight blurring. Blood splattered beteen them both, with some collecting down his throat, but any coughs were cut short by yet another blow. So this is how it ends huh? So be it, he went into this knowing full well the consiquence of loss, and couldn't concentrate on the thought anyhow.

The punching relented, less hits, less strength. From swolen eyes he looked up at the form, silhoutted by the moon. Great- was he going to draw this out? Most likely had a rant to give and gloating to do before finishing things... How annoying. Slowly, the Silencer realized the motions of convulsion were not his own breaths but from the Savatos; that the blood now soaking his shirt was dripping from above.

Confused, he managed to forcefully shift the held hand away, again noting the druid's grip had gone slack. With nothing left to stabalize his front, Savatos fell to the side and off Nortrom, with a wet slap. In his place, it was Rizzrack now standing above him, painted in macabre hues of red.

Nortrom was still disoriented. He was unable to process just what the hell had happened right away, each beat of his own heart ringing between his ears and throbbing at every sustained injury. Laboured breaths counted the seconds before he finally moved, painfully shifting to sit up with a grunt. Again he looked at Rizzrack, then the body of the druid. At this angle, he could see the destroyed flesh of the back, rivers of blood cascading into pools now feeding the earth.

A hiss forced it's way past his clentched teeth, inturupted by an aching cough from blood still running down his throat from a broken nose. Despite the fact his life had just been saved, his responce came in anger still overflowing from the fight just seconds ago.

"What- the- HELL, Rizzrack?"

[nortromthesilencer]

Despite their barklike appearance, the humanoid figures spoke quite clearly. Verdant leaves draped across textured bodies like hooded shawls, their height similar to Rizzrack's own.

"Who's the new one?" Upon speaking up, one of the other's smacked the initiator upside the head, "Have some respect! If he's here than he's one of the Ancient's chosen!"

Hands up defensively, the first shunk in posture before nodding, "Right, sorry!" Bowing apologetically, the treelike being clasped his hands before him, "I'm sorry- Hero!"

Despite the mounting bruises, lacerations, and other injuries: the fight persisted. For much of the altercation they were on a mostly equal footing, but Nortrom could tell he was at a disadvantage in strength and possibly experience. Hand to hand combat was not something he did often, nor something he opted to train beyond the basics.

That disadvantage came to a head when he found himself pinned, the weight of the other man forcing one of his arms down between a knee and his own torso, and the other held by hand. As for the one free hand belong to the druid? It had found Nortrom's face, again and again, taking full advantage of his sudden lack of mobility.

He tried to kick his legs forward, buck upwards, anything to get the other off ballance, but instead found his ears ringing and sight blurring. Blood splattered beteen them both, with some collecting down his throat, but any coughs were cut short by yet another blow. So this is how it ends huh? So be it, he went into this knowing full well the consiquence of loss, and couldn't concentrate on the thought anyhow.

The punching relented, less hits, less strength. From swolen eyes he looked up at the form, silhoutted by the moon. Great- was he going to draw this out? Most likely had a rant to give and gloating to do before finishing things... How annoying. Slowly, the Silencer realized the motions of convulsion were not his own breaths but from the Savatos; that the blood now soaking his shirt was dripping from above.

Confused, he managed to forcefully shift the held hand away, again noting the druid's grip had gone slack. With nothing left to stabalize his front, Savatos fell to the side and off Nortrom, with a wet slap. In his place, it was Rizzrack now standing above him, painted in macabre hues of red.

Nortrom was still disoriented. He was unable to process just what the hell had happened right away, each beat of his own heart ringing between his ears and throbbing at every sustained injury. Laboured breaths counted the seconds before he finally moved, painfully shifting to sit up with a grunt. Again he looked at Rizzrack, then the body of the druid. At this angle, he could see the destroyed flesh of the back, rivers of blood cascading into pools now feeding the earth.

A hiss forced it's way past his clentched teeth, inturupted by an aching cough from blood still running down his throat from a broken nose. Despite the fact his life had just been saved, his responce came in anger still overflowing from the fight just seconds ago.

"What- the- HELL, Rizzrack?"

[nortromthesilencer]

Mid cleaning the dirt and gore off his skin, Nortrom could feel the sudden pulse of energy and faint, comfortable, warmth. Gradually some of the swelling holding his one eye shut subsided, open lacerations knit, and bruises faded ever so slightly. Even the fog that permiated his thoughs seemed to thin, giving clearity despite the recent head trauma. It was in this clarity, that he connected he dots and made some grim assumptions about what had just happened.

He sprang outside, having to stop at the makeshift draped doorway to steady himself. Even though he felt better than before, Nortrom was far from recovered. Looking to where his robes had been left, he noticed them overturned. Further out, near his glaive-- yup. that was Rizzrack lying there; The split bloodstone beside him.

He sighed, running a hand down his face and regretting it imediaetly with a hiss of pain. That idiot. Apparently living to take responsibilty was too much. Walking towards the corpse, another to join the rest here, Nortrom couldn't help but chide the now dead Keen for taking the coward's way out. Sure, it was a path that had crossed Nortrom's mind in the past, but he thought it to be weakness, a loss, giving in. But, wasn't the fact he was so willing to skirt the line by having someone else hold the blade instead, just as bad?

Nortrom kneeled on the grass, collecting the framents of dull red stone, shaking his head. He had come here to give meaning to his ordeal, to make sense of his suffering. Instead, he had orchestrated the death of everyone around him. The druids, the elder, and now Rizzrack: More casualties of his many failures. He fucked up again, and oddly, it didn't surprise him.

At least Rizzrack would finally be free of the trees.

Despite the mounting bruises, lacerations, and other injuries: the fight persisted. For much of the altercation they were on a mostly equal footing, but Nortrom could tell he was at a disadvantage in strength and possibly experience. Hand to hand combat was not something he did often, nor something he opted to train beyond the basics.

That disadvantage came to a head when he found himself pinned, the weight of the other man forcing one of his arms down between a knee and his own torso, and the other held by hand. As for the one free hand belong to the druid? It had found Nortrom's face, again and again, taking full advantage of his sudden lack of mobility.

He tried to kick his legs forward, buck upwards, anything to get the other off ballance, but instead found his ears ringing and sight blurring. Blood splattered beteen them both, with some collecting down his throat, but any coughs were cut short by yet another blow. So this is how it ends huh? So be it, he went into this knowing full well the consiquence of loss, and couldn't concentrate on the thought anyhow.

The punching relented, less hits, less strength. From swolen eyes he looked up at the form, silhoutted by the moon. Great- was he going to draw this out? Most likely had a rant to give and gloating to do before finishing things... How annoying. Slowly, the Silencer realized the motions of convulsion were not his own breaths but from the Savatos; that the blood now soaking his shirt was dripping from above.

Confused, he managed to forcefully shift the held hand away, again noting the druid's grip had gone slack. With nothing left to stabalize his front, Savatos fell to the side and off Nortrom, with a wet slap. In his place, it was Rizzrack now standing above him, painted in macabre hues of red.

Nortrom was still disoriented. He was unable to process just what the hell had happened right away, each beat of his own heart ringing between his ears and throbbing at every sustained injury. Laboured breaths counted the seconds before he finally moved, painfully shifting to sit up with a grunt. Again he looked at Rizzrack, then the body of the druid. At this angle, he could see the destroyed flesh of the back, rivers of blood cascading into pools now feeding the earth.

A hiss forced it's way past his clentched teeth, inturupted by an aching cough from blood still running down his throat from a broken nose. Despite the fact his life had just been saved, his responce came in anger still overflowing from the fight just seconds ago.

"What- the- HELL, Rizzrack?"

[nortromthesilencer]

Sore, tired, likely concussed, and more than done with everything that has been going on, Nortrom just gave Rizzrack a blank, halflidded stare when he was handed the blade and instructed to kill.

"No." It wasn't upset, sad, emotional, or anything at all. Just a flat word, followed by him winding back and throwing the blade far into the trees around them. Sure it was callous, and sure Rizzrack could likely find something else if he was so keen on offing himself, but Nortrom wasn't about to do it for him.

"Accept responsibility."

Feeling light-headed, he needed to find that water fast. If no cloth or strips could be found, a least he still had some of his clothing he could tear into... Huh, his robes were glowing. Strange.

In the pile of cloth and armor, along with the travel bag, a faint red glow could be seen in the darkness, blurred by thick fabric. Oh. Right.

Still lacking emotion, he pointed towards the pile. "You're bloodstone. I forgot I had procured it earlier." More like stole it from holding, but close enough. He had planned on giving it to Rizzrack in the case of him accepting that his plan meant mass death in the end, but right now? Nortrom couldn't be damned to worry about lessons or progress.

Wobbling as he walked and using what he could as support, the man went inside of the nearest tent to look for water. A full waterskin and a few jugs were in quick view, and after using one to merely dump on himself in full along with a groan of pain, he used one of the others as well as some cloth inside to start tending to himself.

Despite the mounting bruises, lacerations, and other injuries: the fight persisted. For much of the altercation they were on a mostly equal footing, but Nortrom could tell he was at a disadvantage in strength and possibly experience. Hand to hand combat was not something he did often, nor something he opted to train beyond the basics.

That disadvantage came to a head when he found himself pinned, the weight of the other man forcing one of his arms down between a knee and his own torso, and the other held by hand. As for the one free hand belong to the druid? It had found Nortrom's face, again and again, taking full advantage of his sudden lack of mobility.

He tried to kick his legs forward, buck upwards, anything to get the other off ballance, but instead found his ears ringing and sight blurring. Blood splattered beteen them both, with some collecting down his throat, but any coughs were cut short by yet another blow. So this is how it ends huh? So be it, he went into this knowing full well the consiquence of loss, and couldn't concentrate on the thought anyhow.

The punching relented, less hits, less strength. From swolen eyes he looked up at the form, silhoutted by the moon. Great- was he going to draw this out? Most likely had a rant to give and gloating to do before finishing things... How annoying. Slowly, the Silencer realized the motions of convulsion were not his own breaths but from the Savatos; that the blood now soaking his shirt was dripping from above.

Confused, he managed to forcefully shift the held hand away, again noting the druid's grip had gone slack. With nothing left to stabalize his front, Savatos fell to the side and off Nortrom, with a wet slap. In his place, it was Rizzrack now standing above him, painted in macabre hues of red.

Nortrom was still disoriented. He was unable to process just what the hell had happened right away, each beat of his own heart ringing between his ears and throbbing at every sustained injury. Laboured breaths counted the seconds before he finally moved, painfully shifting to sit up with a grunt. Again he looked at Rizzrack, then the body of the druid. At this angle, he could see the destroyed flesh of the back, rivers of blood cascading into pools now feeding the earth.

A hiss forced it's way past his clentched teeth, inturupted by an aching cough from blood still running down his throat from a broken nose. Despite the fact his life had just been saved, his responce came in anger still overflowing from the fight just seconds ago.

"What- the- HELL, Rizzrack?"

[nortromthesilencer]

The pieces were falling together in his head now, much slower than he was used to. The druid was winning. Rizzrack attacked him, stabbing him repeatedly. The druid died.

Nortrom winced, still hissing out slow, laboured breaths. He shifted, turning his head to the side and spitting out a built up collection of blood, phlegm, and who knows what else. Eyes fixed on the corpse, he spoke, despite the words coming out slightly slurred from his wounds, "That was suposed to be an honourable fight- he would have earned that win, and his right to live."

With a less than gracefull lurch, Silencer got to his feet and growled under his breath. So much for trying to make at least one thing right. He grabbed on to the large open wound on his arm, reminants of being bit and flesh torn, trying to stay the bloodflow. "Fuck- and I thought I was tired before all of this."

Looking around for a well or anything that might be holding water so that he may clean himself and prevent infection, Nortrom once more caught Rizzrack in his sights. His brows knit. "Yes- why did you do that?"

Nortrom didn't move, stance and stare unwavering, a statue and blade reflecting moonlight off an edge of silent steel. Even when Rizzrack came between the two, evoking an emotional plea, he didn't flinch. It wasn't just a show, a display of dominance, or even being on guard: it was his own introspection, his own shock as what Rizzrack had said that left the man without reaction.

Unexpected, especially from one such as Rizzrack; the change of heart may have caught the Silencer so off guard, yes, but it was the familiarity that punched him in the gut unseen. Another time, another person, another place. Someone he had been thinking about a lot lately, and someone who said very similar sentences to him in the past. Things can't be undone, the damage already dealt. Do not destroy yourself going down this path, as I have. LIVE.

The elder druid, on the other hand, was not so deep in the past state of thought. His fear was now, his struggle here, and the future had yet to be decided. All he could do is panic that the silence had returned and removed his connection to the natural magics he was so used to having. Eyes fixated on the blade pointed towards him, still confused how it managed to relocate so readily, he mouthed prayers no one would ever hear.

Shaking his head back and forth, disbelief welling up behind the subsiding rage and forthcoming sorrow, the man fell to his knees in defeat. In response, Nortrom slowly lowered his arm, glaive no longer directed forward, and let the silence subside. It looked mechanical the way he moved, so stiff and deliberate, still stuck on the words repeating over and over again inside of his head in both the voice of his brother and Rizzrack. The Silencer remained on guard, but knew this distraction was not a welcome one, or a safe one.

For the time being, he would have to once again push such thoughts back and ignore their cries.

[nortromthesilencer]

Despite the mounting bruises, lacerations, and other injuries: the fight persisted. For much of the altercation they were on a mostly equal footing, but Nortrom could tell he was at a disadvantage in strength and possibly experience. Hand to hand combat was not something he did often, nor something he opted to train beyond the basics.

That disadvantage came to a head when he found himself pinned, the weight of the other man forcing one of his arms down between a knee and his own torso, and the other held by hand. As for the one free hand belong to the druid? It had found Nortrom's face, again and again, taking full advantage of his sudden lack of mobility.

He tried to kick his legs forward, buck upwards, anything to get the other off ballance, but instead found his ears ringing and sight blurring. Blood splattered beteen them both, with some collecting down his throat, but any coughs were cut short by yet another blow. So this is how it ends huh? So be it, he went into this knowing full well the consiquence of loss, and couldn't concentrate on the thought anyhow.

The punching relented, less hits, less strength. From swolen eyes he looked up at the form, silhoutted by the moon. Great- was he going to draw this out? Most likely had a rant to give and gloating to do before finishing things... How annoying. Slowly, the Silencer realized the motions of convulsion were not his own breaths but from the Savatos; that the blood now soaking his shirt was dripping from above.

Confused, he managed to forcefully shift the held hand away, again noting the druid's grip had gone slack. With nothing left to stabalize his front, Savatos fell to the side and off Nortrom, with a wet slap. In his place, it was Rizzrack now standing above him, painted in macabre hues of red.

Nortrom was still disoriented. He was unable to process just what the hell had happened right away, each beat of his own heart ringing between his ears and throbbing at every sustained injury. Laboured breaths counted the seconds before he finally moved, painfully shifting to sit up with a grunt. Again he looked at Rizzrack, then the body of the druid. At this angle, he could see the destroyed flesh of the back, rivers of blood cascading into pools now feeding the earth.

A hiss forced it's way past his clentched teeth, inturupted by an aching cough from blood still running down his throat from a broken nose. Despite the fact his life had just been saved, his responce came in anger still overflowing from the fight just seconds ago.

"What- the- HELL, Rizzrack?"

Nortrom didn't move, stance and stare unwavering, a statue and blade reflecting moonlight off an edge of silent steel. Even when Rizzrack came between the two, evoking an emotional plea, he didn't flinch. It wasn't just a show, a display of dominance, or even being on guard: it was his own introspection, his own shock as what Rizzrack had said that left the man without reaction.

Unexpected, especially from one such as Rizzrack; the change of heart may have caught the Silencer so off guard, yes, but it was the familiarity that punched him in the gut unseen. Another time, another person, another place. Someone he had been thinking about a lot lately, and someone who said very similar sentences to him in the past. Things can't be undone, the damage already dealt. Do not destroy yourself going down this path, as I have. LIVE.

The elder druid, on the other hand, was not so deep in the past state of thought. His fear was now, his struggle here, and the future had yet to be decided. All he could do is panic that the silence had returned and removed his connection to the natural magics he was so used to having. Eyes fixated on the blade pointed towards him, still confused how it managed to relocate so readily, he mouthed prayers no one would ever hear.

Shaking his head back and forth, disbelief welling up behind the subsiding rage and forthcoming sorrow, the man fell to his knees in defeat. In response, Nortrom slowly lowered his arm, glaive no longer directed forward, and let the silence subside. It looked mechanical the way he moved, so stiff and deliberate, still stuck on the words repeating over and over again inside of his head in both the voice of his brother and Rizzrack. The Silencer remained on guard, but knew this distraction was not a welcome one, or a safe one.

For the time being, he would have to once again push such thoughts back and ignore their cries.

[nortromthesilencer]

After all he’s just a tool. I used him.

Between grit teeth, Nortrom forced a hiss of air. Not so much in anger but instead continuing the trend of the evening: doubt about his place in the world, and everything he is. Just a tool. That's exactly what he always had said, and even accepted, so why was hearing this now so upsetting? It wasn't so much "who" or "what" is the Silencer, but why?

While the two men remained focused on one another, Rizzrack's words were not gone unheard. "Used as a tool?" The druid scoffed, "Yet you choose to not let him be a tool now? Using his offer to save yourself, or fight in your stead?" The outstreched arm lowered in angle, pointing more to Silencer's feet, less steady, "You are both guilty. I will deal with you afterwards, all the same, Keen- your body will fertilize the trees you so despise."

Nortrom frowned. "A fist fight? A bit exessive don't you think?"

"You were willing to die just moment ago, but can't even grant me an honourable fight? I deserve at least that much!"

"..." Head slanting into a small shrug, the Silencer sighed. "Fine. I owe you at least that much, correct. State your terms."

With a nod, the druid fully removed himself from Rizzrack and stood up, tossing the herb scythe beside the grounded glaives. "No weapons. No spells. No armor. Nothing but ourselves, in martial combat, to the death. As with nature, there are no barred moves or restricted areas. A struggle between two predators, for the chance to live."

Begining to remove his bracers, Nortrom hummed in affirmation. "So be it. If this is what you truely belive is the needed course of action, I will oblige." Slowly, he removed the metal pieces adorning his form, before realizing that his base gambison was a padded armor that needed to go. Soon, Nortrom was down to just his pants, scars on full display.

"Don't you dare dishonour my people by going easy on me or just letting me win." He had matched the level of undress, both now standing at the ready, clothed by the hair, muscle, and scars that told numerous tales. The druid saw the tapestry upon his opponents body, bites, flay marks, burns, and more. Perhaps he really was a slave of some sort.

As for Nortrom, while confident in his abilities he knew this wasn't going to be merely a one sided fight. The Elder Druid before him had been raised in the trees, on toil and labour, on physical exertion by will of the very nature he worshiped. Who knows, he could have said he wrestled a beard in the past and Nortrom would have believed it. Unlike before, there was a very real chance he could lose this fight- an equal struggle, just as the other wanted.

The moon hung low in the night sky, casting a silver luminescence over the deathly grove while the air, thick with the scent of moss and decay, hung heavy with the portent of imminent violence. Both men now shirtless and clad only in worn trousers, stood as adversaries in this otherworldly arena.

"I am Savatos, Elder of this grove, keeper of Varodicai's will- and I will see you fall before sunrise!"

The Elder druid, muscles taut and eyes aflame with rage, lunged at Nortrom with a primal roar. His fists were a tempest, a barrage of calculated fury aimed at overwhelming his opponent. Nortrom, anticipating the initial volley, ducked and dodged the onslaught with a fluid grace that belied his middle-aged frame.

Despite this, the first landed blow came like a clap of thunder. His knuckles found Nortrom's jaw with a sickening thud, the impact reverberating through the silent commune.

The Silencer, undeterred, retaliated with a knee to Savatos' gut, the impact driving the air from his lungs. Regaining his footing with exceptional speed further fueled by adrenaline and a primal instinct to survive, Savatos grabbed Nortrom's arm mid recoil and sank his teeth into Nortrom's flesh. Blood mingled with sweat as the Silencer grunted in pain, momentarily disoriented by the unexpected bloodletting.

Nortrom staggered but remained focused, his eyes ablaze with a pale blue glow. Savatos, bloodlust glinting in his eyes, wiped the blood from his lips with the back of his hand.

Again they clashed, the scent of iron and sweat permeating the air as the two combatants grappled with the ferocity of cornered beasts. Honour dictating he not go easy on the Druid but fight in earnest spurred the Silencer on, while the potential of vengeance inspired the Elder Druid to keep going. Faces painted by blood, marred in intense wrath, neither relented.

Nortrom didn't move, stance and stare unwavering, a statue and blade reflecting moonlight off an edge of silent steel. Even when Rizzrack came between the two, evoking an emotional plea, he didn't flinch. It wasn't just a show, a display of dominance, or even being on guard: it was his own introspection, his own shock as what Rizzrack had said that left the man without reaction.

Unexpected, especially from one such as Rizzrack; the change of heart may have caught the Silencer so off guard, yes, but it was the familiarity that punched him in the gut unseen. Another time, another person, another place. Someone he had been thinking about a lot lately, and someone who said very similar sentences to him in the past. Things can't be undone, the damage already dealt. Do not destroy yourself going down this path, as I have. LIVE.

The elder druid, on the other hand, was not so deep in the past state of thought. His fear was now, his struggle here, and the future had yet to be decided. All he could do is panic that the silence had returned and removed his connection to the natural magics he was so used to having. Eyes fixated on the blade pointed towards him, still confused how it managed to relocate so readily, he mouthed prayers no one would ever hear.

Shaking his head back and forth, disbelief welling up behind the subsiding rage and forthcoming sorrow, the man fell to his knees in defeat. In response, Nortrom slowly lowered his arm, glaive no longer directed forward, and let the silence subside. It looked mechanical the way he moved, so stiff and deliberate, still stuck on the words repeating over and over again inside of his head in both the voice of his brother and Rizzrack. The Silencer remained on guard, but knew this distraction was not a welcome one, or a safe one.

For the time being, he would have to once again push such thoughts back and ignore their cries.

[nortromthesilencer]

"You have every reason not to trust me, but I--" His words cut short, as quieter ones struggling for breath took over. In hearing what was said, the previously stoic expression turned to surprise. "I broke him"

"Rizzrack..." A wisper, lost to the rest of the pinned Keen's rant, taken aback by completely unexpected admitance. The Silencer, silenced.

The druid, however, was not. "What in the seven hells is WRONG with you two?!" Pushing more forcefully on Rizzrack's back to shut him up, he continued, "My people are dead, then you both act as though you're content with your own death?" None of this made sense. His commune was attacked by a couple of insane sociopaths.

Mustering up the will to speak again, after a clearing of his throat, Nortrom's tone was less steadfast than before. "You and He are more alike than you think: You want us dead, and in your eyes it's both revenge and self defence for the death of these people. Rizzrack wanted the trees and those with them dead, and in his eyes it's both revenge and self defence for the death of his people. The trees wanted his own dead, as in their eyes it was revenge and self defence for the death of their family." Internally, as saying this, the Silencer related this morbid cycle to his own, his order, and the Fold. Death for death, until one side was no more. It brought about an amused, sardonic, huff, "Damned rediculous- and doomed to repeat."

Deep brown eyes set behind slanted brows stared down at Rizzrack. Gradually, the druid let up his weight, no longer pressing as hard against the small-Keen's back. "I don't care about the circumstances. Nature is forever a repeating cycle, and it would seem this too. Fine, if this is just another of nature's circles, it should be settled as nature would decree!" The blade quickly left the threatening hover above Rizzrack's neck, instead it's hooked edge pointing Silencer's way, "Nature's order, the strong persevere! You're right, it would mean nothing to just kill you or him in such a cowards way. Fight me! One on one! No magic, no armor, no blades or bludgeons! Just two animals fighting for their place in the natural order, two males vying for the right to life! I challenge you, murderous one, for the right to live!"

Nortrom didn't move, stance and stare unwavering, a statue and blade reflecting moonlight off an edge of silent steel. Even when Rizzrack came between the two, evoking an emotional plea, he didn't flinch. It wasn't just a show, a display of dominance, or even being on guard: it was his own introspection, his own shock as what Rizzrack had said that left the man without reaction.

Unexpected, especially from one such as Rizzrack; the change of heart may have caught the Silencer so off guard, yes, but it was the familiarity that punched him in the gut unseen. Another time, another person, another place. Someone he had been thinking about a lot lately, and someone who said very similar sentences to him in the past. Things can't be undone, the damage already dealt. Do not destroy yourself going down this path, as I have. LIVE.

The elder druid, on the other hand, was not so deep in the past state of thought. His fear was now, his struggle here, and the future had yet to be decided. All he could do is panic that the silence had returned and removed his connection to the natural magics he was so used to having. Eyes fixated on the blade pointed towards him, still confused how it managed to relocate so readily, he mouthed prayers no one would ever hear.

Shaking his head back and forth, disbelief welling up behind the subsiding rage and forthcoming sorrow, the man fell to his knees in defeat. In response, Nortrom slowly lowered his arm, glaive no longer directed forward, and let the silence subside. It looked mechanical the way he moved, so stiff and deliberate, still stuck on the words repeating over and over again inside of his head in both the voice of his brother and Rizzrack. The Silencer remained on guard, but knew this distraction was not a welcome one, or a safe one.

For the time being, he would have to once again push such thoughts back and ignore their cries.

[nortromthesilencer]

No, it can't end like this; It can't! Whatever fucked up mind games were being played here and now, whatever emotional epiphanies, none of that matters. None of that changes the fact that the grove, his people, were just snuffed out without a sound. 

Seeing that the other two were distracted by their own thoughts, that the moon had slipped behind a thin wisping of clouds and left this evening even darker, the druid once again chose to act. Except this time, his target had changed.

Rizzrack was unfortunately the closer of the pair, still standing in stupor between the fueding men. With a deft leap from his kneeling defeat, the elder druid lunged forward. Hands grabbed the Small-Keen, pulling him to the side and off ballance. Twisting Rizzrack's arm behind his own back, he pinned him to the ground with a knee holding him in place. As the moon returned from it's short sojourn, it caught a new reflection on the edge of the herb blade at Rizzrack's neck. Holding it there threateningly, he snarled towards the Silencer.

Nortrom was oddly non-reactive, casually turning back to look at this new circumstance with very little change of expression. His apparent apathy illicited the opposite emotion in the Elderdruid— seething resentment and anger. Yet before he could threaten, bark an order, or fight through his emotions enough to speak, the Silencer did so first.

"Tell me, what do you hope to accomplish with this?"

Like a mask falling off, the expression of rage sank into a confused but upset frown. What the hell did he mean? Revenge, of course! He would feed the earth their blood as his friends and family now did, then he would--- There was a change in his breathing; his eyes were no longer so focused. Nortrom noticed.

"The same story time and time again. If you thought taking a hostage would somehow change all of this, you are sorely mistaken. A pity you don't realize the complexities of this situation. Hm..." Nortrom looked at Rizzrack, then to the druid, before closing briefly with a shake of his head and a sigh, "While I can assure you that killing me won't fix anything or sooth your pain, who am I to argue? That which led up to all of this was, ultimately, my own failing."

When the Silencer raised his hands, the druid tensed, blade lightly touching pink flesh, ready to cut at any sign of action. Instead, the man tossed his glaive on the ground, it's heavy form falling with an echoing thud. Then, Nortrom removed his helmet, tossing it aside as well. 

"Go ahead. If you are so certain that my death will fix all of your problems and make you happy, then I shall take full responsibility. Not that it will do much in the end..." While the last words were more spoken to himself than the other, Nortrom tilted his head to the side and back, presenting his neck in a morbid, inviting, way, "I won't fight back, or resist, so long as you make it a clean, quick, death." 

Pulling back the knife, his jaw slacked, and the elder druid knelt there gobsmacked by this. Was he being mocked? Again, anger intensified. "Don't patronize me! I know full well that your weapon being out of hand means nothing- you manifest it from outside the tent! I'm not falling for your mockery, for your games! You take them all away, then dare ridicule me?!?"

Nortrom didn't move, stance and stare unwavering, a statue and blade reflecting moonlight off an edge of silent steel. Even when Rizzrack came between the two, evoking an emotional plea, he didn't flinch. It wasn't just a show, a display of dominance, or even being on guard: it was his own introspection, his own shock as what Rizzrack had said that left the man without reaction.

Unexpected, especially from one such as Rizzrack; the change of heart may have caught the Silencer so off guard, yes, but it was the familiarity that punched him in the gut unseen. Another time, another person, another place. Someone he had been thinking about a lot lately, and someone who said very similar sentences to him in the past. Things can't be undone, the damage already dealt. Do not destroy yourself going down this path, as I have. LIVE.

The elder druid, on the other hand, was not so deep in the past state of thought. His fear was now, his struggle here, and the future had yet to be decided. All he could do is panic that the silence had returned and removed his connection to the natural magics he was so used to having. Eyes fixated on the blade pointed towards him, still confused how it managed to relocate so readily, he mouthed prayers no one would ever hear.

Shaking his head back and forth, disbelief welling up behind the subsiding rage and forthcoming sorrow, the man fell to his knees in defeat. In response, Nortrom slowly lowered his arm, glaive no longer directed forward, and let the silence subside. It looked mechanical the way he moved, so stiff and deliberate, still stuck on the words repeating over and over again inside of his head in both the voice of his brother and Rizzrack. The Silencer remained on guard, but knew this distraction was not a welcome one, or a safe one.

For the time being, he would have to once again push such thoughts back and ignore their cries.

[nortromthesilencer]

Just some Rizzrack doodles. It’s easy to see where I struggled lol.

Thank you @nortromthesilencer for some expression suggestions

#Timbersaw #Rizzrack #I love these #not my art

[nortromthesilencer]

Eyes still fixed ahead, staring not at the druid or the foliage before him but the nothingness beyond, Nortrom let out a slow drawn breath. There was a pause- more silence between the three, before he spoke in a reserved tone, "No. That was never my intention," The blue glow on his face dimmed as he narrowed his gaze, brows lowering in thought.

Another deep sigh.

"Like you and he both, I acted in hopes of giving meaning to a pain that felt otherwise pointless." The statue that was the Silencer finally moved, head angling to look down at the untethered end of the shackle that had been dragged along when Rizzrack moved. It's arcane powers faintly highlighted the grass and vines in ethereal ways. Nortrom knelt down, picking up the shackle, and ran a hand over it's smooth form. The light flickered, and with a small click the other side that held on to Rizzrack let go, falling. Winding the magic tether like a rope before activating the control spell to dismiss this connection, he again paused, fingers tense and rubbing at the surface, a mindless stress motion.

"We all face our demons tonight, it seems."

Still perturbed by his own lack of self-control, Nortrom took longer than he should have to notice Rizzrack going through the motions of thought. Taking slow, deliberate, and deep breaths, he again moved to massage his hands; so out of place, so stiff, so awkward feeling.

Watching the Small-keen curl up, he was surprised by the action. Obviously his words, his outburst, actually got through to Rizzrack some how- that in of itself came as a greater shock than any other reaction he had received today.

"Then we shall get some rest. I won't carry you, and I doubt you would want me to drag you either," Nortrom didn't much feel like dragging him either, more for the extra effort it would take than actually caring about scuffing the other up, "I also doubt you would agree to use one of the structures here, despite them now being abandoned. If that's the case, there is a cave nearby we could shelter- though sleeping in a tent that already has blankets would be much easier." Thankfully the group were outside for the most part, meaning finding an empty one without any bodies present to be disturbed, would be easy.