When the stern woman had left--Kasrjin, for some reason, could not recall if he had been given her identity in the first place--he was once again left alone with his thoughts, and the pattern he had carved onto the wall. The steel points of his horn ornaments were tarnished and dulled from the usage somewhat, but the stone was easy enough to scratch. Every time his eye flicked over the pattern, it shifted; the colours were extremely faint but visible. Something here within this land resonated with the Correspondence, at least on a superficial level. Yet, why did it feel so different? He did not feel the presence of the Forfeiture in the slightest. The ever-present tugging and redirection that persisted him was absent within these lands.
He glanced at the bed beside him. It's not as if the hard stone floor was necessarily comfortable, but the Xaela had found to his dismay that the bed was too soft and, most disconcertingly, too short; an awkward length of his legs were left helplessly dangling over the side, and in any case, it was far more comfortable in general for him to sleep sitting as opposed to lying down, especially given his horns. At least his sword had been returned; he had kept the harness with what meagre belongings he'd had, and the blued steel of the weapon would be a comfort.
Kasrjin shifted his position, leaning one arm against his knee, his gaze finally breaking away from the patterns. It was impossible to tell what cycle of the moon it was from the interior of the room, but after a full day of travel, it was more important that he rest now.
He would find the information he needed, in time.
--
The first thing he heard was a metallic roar.
It wasn't the soft chime he was used to. It was the loud, resonant echoing of a massive bell. The earsplitting reverberation could be heard even from within the stony confines of his room. He could almost feel the scales of his horns vibrate from the force of the noise. In the first instant, he lay resting, his body unwilling to rise from its sitting position. In the next instant, the harness was on his back, its bladed occupant comfortably resting within it. The Xaela was an odd sight, especially with his weapon; he was still dressed in the ill-fitting common clothes that Edda had given him the night prior, but it didn't matter. What did matter was that the booming cacophony that could be heard within a building was certainly some kind of alarm.
Kasrjin stormed out of the inn, and upon practically tackling the door open was exposed to the frigid night. The snowfall had begun piling around the fortifications of the settlement, and the shine of the moon was barely visible through a thick canopy of relentless clouds, but what first received the Au Ra's attention was not the cold, but the shouting, the screaming...and the steely growls and the thrashing of wings. An Elezen, haphazardly dressed in chainmail and still fumbling to bring his blade out of its sheath, roughly shouldered himself past him. Kasrjin stared at the retreating back of the soldier before running into a loping sprint to chase after him.
The Xaela's instinct was not incorrect.
Atop the lower section of the battlements, near the rotating azure rock framed in heavy brass, was a group of creatures. Their bodies were covered in soot black plates and scales, thick yet pointed like the head of a spear. The heads of the beasts bore arrays of razor sharp fangs and were framed by spiny frills; narrow, reptilian eyes flickered to and fro. The mace-like tails were whipped around viciously, beating and battering the armoured warriors who attempted to get in range with their weapons. The scaled creatures--a quick head count counted nearly eleven of the beasts--fought with a dangerous intelligence. They were encircled around the brass base of the blue rock. Spear thrust and sword swings were met with a furious slap of the creature's wings, or a furious thrash from another's tail. The soldiers were in disarray; the narrow space of the battlement made it that much harder to manoeuvre with their weapons.
The shouting accompanied additional bodies rushing onto the battlement.
"Surround the aevis!"
"By the Fury, I think they're after the aetheryte!"
"How in the hells did they even get inside!?"
Every now and then, one of the creatures would pause to aggressively smash the club-like tail into the blue rock. The damage was not completely visible, but small shards of it evaporated into a fine mist before being swallowed by the winter cold.
Kasrjin watched the to and fro of combat; the soldiers would attempt to create a formation, but the relatively narrow path of the battlement made options limited. As soon as one of the creatures--the aevis--spotted a cluster, it and several more of its number would leap forward and make a slash of the long talons on its wings and a snapping of fangs. Even if it did no harm, the threat was enough to force the soldiers back.
The Au Ra, however, found himself beginning to run, only to stop short. These were dragons. He was considered, even erroneously, to be in association with them. What was the appropriate action in this context? Instinct demanded that he join the fray, but his mind admonished him for the thought. A hand leapt to the handle of his sword, but did not unsheath the weapon. Would he be considered a threat as well? If he were to assist the soldiers, was it not possible that he would be perceived as undermining them? Not only would that possibly be the death of him if they reacted violently, but it might also completely sever Kasrjin from any other contact. Contact that he grudgingly admitted that he needed in order to succeed in locating his objective.
The loud cranking of metal could be heard from the wall above him, followed by more shouting. "Fool! You'll destroy the aetheryte if you go blasting them with a Bertha!"
Kasrjin, for possibly the first time in his life, found himself faced with an uncertain dilemma. Here was a situation that he was built for. His training had him optimized for combat against men and beasts of all kinds. Though he was lacking in confidence in many things, there was one solid certainty--his ability to fight.
And yet, the circumstances had managed to rob him of even that.
His wrist twitched, chained by doubt. His hand flexed around the handle of the sword, stricken with the ambiguity of the circumstance. The Xaela was frozen in an odd position; he had stopped mid run and his legs were arranged in a long stride, as if time had stopped him in his tracks.
What was the appropriate action?
He glanced at the bed beside him. It's not as if the hard stone floor was necessarily comfortable, but the Xaela had found to his dismay that the bed was too soft and, most disconcertingly, too short; an awkward length of his legs were left helplessly dangling over the side, and in any case, it was far more comfortable in general for him to sleep sitting as opposed to lying down, especially given his horns. At least his sword had been returned; he had kept the harness with what meagre belongings he'd had, and the blued steel of the weapon would be a comfort.
Kasrjin shifted his position, leaning one arm against his knee, his gaze finally breaking away from the patterns. It was impossible to tell what cycle of the moon it was from the interior of the room, but after a full day of travel, it was more important that he rest now.
He would find the information he needed, in time.
--
The first thing he heard was a metallic roar.
It wasn't the soft chime he was used to. It was the loud, resonant echoing of a massive bell. The earsplitting reverberation could be heard even from within the stony confines of his room. He could almost feel the scales of his horns vibrate from the force of the noise. In the first instant, he lay resting, his body unwilling to rise from its sitting position. In the next instant, the harness was on his back, its bladed occupant comfortably resting within it. The Xaela was an odd sight, especially with his weapon; he was still dressed in the ill-fitting common clothes that Edda had given him the night prior, but it didn't matter. What did matter was that the booming cacophony that could be heard within a building was certainly some kind of alarm.
Kasrjin stormed out of the inn, and upon practically tackling the door open was exposed to the frigid night. The snowfall had begun piling around the fortifications of the settlement, and the shine of the moon was barely visible through a thick canopy of relentless clouds, but what first received the Au Ra's attention was not the cold, but the shouting, the screaming...and the steely growls and the thrashing of wings. An Elezen, haphazardly dressed in chainmail and still fumbling to bring his blade out of its sheath, roughly shouldered himself past him. Kasrjin stared at the retreating back of the soldier before running into a loping sprint to chase after him.
The Xaela's instinct was not incorrect.
Atop the lower section of the battlements, near the rotating azure rock framed in heavy brass, was a group of creatures. Their bodies were covered in soot black plates and scales, thick yet pointed like the head of a spear. The heads of the beasts bore arrays of razor sharp fangs and were framed by spiny frills; narrow, reptilian eyes flickered to and fro. The mace-like tails were whipped around viciously, beating and battering the armoured warriors who attempted to get in range with their weapons. The scaled creatures--a quick head count counted nearly eleven of the beasts--fought with a dangerous intelligence. They were encircled around the brass base of the blue rock. Spear thrust and sword swings were met with a furious slap of the creature's wings, or a furious thrash from another's tail. The soldiers were in disarray; the narrow space of the battlement made it that much harder to manoeuvre with their weapons.
The shouting accompanied additional bodies rushing onto the battlement.
"Surround the aevis!"
"By the Fury, I think they're after the aetheryte!"
"How in the hells did they even get inside!?"
Every now and then, one of the creatures would pause to aggressively smash the club-like tail into the blue rock. The damage was not completely visible, but small shards of it evaporated into a fine mist before being swallowed by the winter cold.
Kasrjin watched the to and fro of combat; the soldiers would attempt to create a formation, but the relatively narrow path of the battlement made options limited. As soon as one of the creatures--the aevis--spotted a cluster, it and several more of its number would leap forward and make a slash of the long talons on its wings and a snapping of fangs. Even if it did no harm, the threat was enough to force the soldiers back.
The Au Ra, however, found himself beginning to run, only to stop short. These were dragons. He was considered, even erroneously, to be in association with them. What was the appropriate action in this context? Instinct demanded that he join the fray, but his mind admonished him for the thought. A hand leapt to the handle of his sword, but did not unsheath the weapon. Would he be considered a threat as well? If he were to assist the soldiers, was it not possible that he would be perceived as undermining them? Not only would that possibly be the death of him if they reacted violently, but it might also completely sever Kasrjin from any other contact. Contact that he grudgingly admitted that he needed in order to succeed in locating his objective.
The loud cranking of metal could be heard from the wall above him, followed by more shouting. "Fool! You'll destroy the aetheryte if you go blasting them with a Bertha!"
Kasrjin, for possibly the first time in his life, found himself faced with an uncertain dilemma. Here was a situation that he was built for. His training had him optimized for combat against men and beasts of all kinds. Though he was lacking in confidence in many things, there was one solid certainty--his ability to fight.
And yet, the circumstances had managed to rob him of even that.
His wrist twitched, chained by doubt. His hand flexed around the handle of the sword, stricken with the ambiguity of the circumstance. The Xaela was frozen in an odd position; he had stopped mid run and his legs were arranged in a long stride, as if time had stopped him in his tracks.
What was the appropriate action?
