~Day 83~
Away from the constant hum of the shards over his cage, and their effects, Erik slept deeply. His dreams were of his home, his child, his sister. All the people whom he knew and loved. His dreams ended when the sirens began to scream. They had found the guards, they would be coming. Erik stood and shook his body out, taking note of sore areas, taking note of his weaknesses. There were surprisingly few, his father's techniques being more useful then he thought they would be.
Gripping the spear, he placed his ear to the door and listened. First came a clicking, "click, click, click"... shoes. Then came the thumping, "doum, doum, doum"... the butt of a spear tapping the floor as someone walked. Then his eyes widened, "ping, clang, ping, clang"... sword and shield, Erik never cared for spears. Stepping through the door swiftly, he impaled the soldier from his jaw through to the top of his head. Stripping what armor removed fast, along with the sword and shield, Erik tossed the body into the room he had stayed in.
Quiet as a miqo'te tracker, Erik moved through the corridors. Some who saw him took no notice as he lowered the visor of the helm, the smell of blood within overwhelming. Others who saw him and did take notice... Nald'thal took them. The first lost his head with a single swing. The second lost his eyes before death took him. Another, a shield to the face, then throat. The last three were young, and ended with such savage brutality, that the last to die wished he had been first, to spear himself what he saw in his final moments. A man with flowing, blood-soaked hair, green eyes that pierced the soul, and a strength that sent severed body parts flying with every swing.
Finally through the side halls, the Flame Captain found what he was looking for. The main lab was massive. More then a lab, it was the primary depository of the crystals and shards. Slipping in the door and locking it behind him, Erik made swift work of the two who attended the room. Their protective suits muffling his steps. Their obstructive hoods and masks blinding them to his approach. Once done Erik moved to the central vault. As he moved closer he felt the aura of the void crystals draw in his strength. Ignoring the weakness and fatigue, he moved to the vault door and placed his blade to his forearm, slicing deep. Digging his fingers in the wound he grunted and hissed until he pulled free a small red ring. Shaking his arm, he embedded the ring in the handle of the vault door. He felt the full force of the crystals now. All but his most vital aether flowing out of him toward the vault.... but he needed no aether, not for this. He lined up his slice and then raised his blade. He thought for a moment, of his rage, his fears, his hate of this place. Then he thought of his father, how as a boy he had seen him draw his very lifeforce through his hand into his blade. He remembered how the act was so twisted, so unnatural, so... dark. He gathered his life, tainted by hate into the tip of his blade, his father's son...., "RAGE!... OF....HALONE!!!" As he shouted, swinging his sword toward the door and the ring attached, he saw the black aura overtake his sword. He felt a surge of life leave him, not unlike the machine. His father had only once told him of Darkness, the Dark Knight's last resort, the skill so dangerous, it was saved for the most dire of situations. This was why he was sent here by Ul'dah. A man that could act in the presence of the crystals, if only shortly.
The door laid on the floor, cleaved in two, the cut edges melted, as if cut by flames. Also sliced was the ring. From its ruby core came a Bomb. The creature was so overwhelmed by the void crystals, that it died moments after leaving the safety of the ring, but that was the plan. Moments were enough for the creature to obey its instincts, and self-destruct. As the detonation began, Erik dived behind a wall, barely missing the blast as it engulf the crystals and shards. The explosion was itself unnatural, it was as if the force and energy released by the explosion was sucked into the vault as the positive and negative force countered one another.
As Erik raised from his hiding place, he felt the aether in the room stabilize, his senses and aether returning. He knew the sound would swiftly bring an army to him, so he moved quickly toward the storage area, looking for an exit, a loading dock, anything. As he moved he spied a room near the lab, a large book on the desk within. Grabbing the book, he noticed a door to the outside in the room. Kicking the door he splintered the door, and took his first deep breath of fresh air in three months, the cold air burning his lungs. Looking back into the room, he heard the far off sound on soldiers running toward him. He moved through the door. He would find the room on a high level. He would climb the ledges, moving from roof to roof. Resting where he could, stealing food, he made his way to the city gates in two days. From there he hid himself on a cart for the dead, "heretics" of the church, unworthy of a burial within the Holy city, riding out across the grand bridge, to and then through the Gates of Judgment. Escaping the cart he ran, wearing only loose pants, without shirt and shoes. He eventually made his way to Dragonhead. Seeking a friend, he acquired clothing and food. Nervous to stand out until he was safely in Alliance territory. On foot he traveled through the harsh snow toward the north of the Shroud. From there he walked toward Gridania. Once there he contacted the Immortal Flames and sent for the Falcon. He returned to Ul'dah exactly ninety days since he had been taken.
Away from the constant hum of the shards over his cage, and their effects, Erik slept deeply. His dreams were of his home, his child, his sister. All the people whom he knew and loved. His dreams ended when the sirens began to scream. They had found the guards, they would be coming. Erik stood and shook his body out, taking note of sore areas, taking note of his weaknesses. There were surprisingly few, his father's techniques being more useful then he thought they would be.
Gripping the spear, he placed his ear to the door and listened. First came a clicking, "click, click, click"... shoes. Then came the thumping, "doum, doum, doum"... the butt of a spear tapping the floor as someone walked. Then his eyes widened, "ping, clang, ping, clang"... sword and shield, Erik never cared for spears. Stepping through the door swiftly, he impaled the soldier from his jaw through to the top of his head. Stripping what armor removed fast, along with the sword and shield, Erik tossed the body into the room he had stayed in.
Quiet as a miqo'te tracker, Erik moved through the corridors. Some who saw him took no notice as he lowered the visor of the helm, the smell of blood within overwhelming. Others who saw him and did take notice... Nald'thal took them. The first lost his head with a single swing. The second lost his eyes before death took him. Another, a shield to the face, then throat. The last three were young, and ended with such savage brutality, that the last to die wished he had been first, to spear himself what he saw in his final moments. A man with flowing, blood-soaked hair, green eyes that pierced the soul, and a strength that sent severed body parts flying with every swing.
Finally through the side halls, the Flame Captain found what he was looking for. The main lab was massive. More then a lab, it was the primary depository of the crystals and shards. Slipping in the door and locking it behind him, Erik made swift work of the two who attended the room. Their protective suits muffling his steps. Their obstructive hoods and masks blinding them to his approach. Once done Erik moved to the central vault. As he moved closer he felt the aura of the void crystals draw in his strength. Ignoring the weakness and fatigue, he moved to the vault door and placed his blade to his forearm, slicing deep. Digging his fingers in the wound he grunted and hissed until he pulled free a small red ring. Shaking his arm, he embedded the ring in the handle of the vault door. He felt the full force of the crystals now. All but his most vital aether flowing out of him toward the vault.... but he needed no aether, not for this. He lined up his slice and then raised his blade. He thought for a moment, of his rage, his fears, his hate of this place. Then he thought of his father, how as a boy he had seen him draw his very lifeforce through his hand into his blade. He remembered how the act was so twisted, so unnatural, so... dark. He gathered his life, tainted by hate into the tip of his blade, his father's son...., "RAGE!... OF....HALONE!!!" As he shouted, swinging his sword toward the door and the ring attached, he saw the black aura overtake his sword. He felt a surge of life leave him, not unlike the machine. His father had only once told him of Darkness, the Dark Knight's last resort, the skill so dangerous, it was saved for the most dire of situations. This was why he was sent here by Ul'dah. A man that could act in the presence of the crystals, if only shortly.
The door laid on the floor, cleaved in two, the cut edges melted, as if cut by flames. Also sliced was the ring. From its ruby core came a Bomb. The creature was so overwhelmed by the void crystals, that it died moments after leaving the safety of the ring, but that was the plan. Moments were enough for the creature to obey its instincts, and self-destruct. As the detonation began, Erik dived behind a wall, barely missing the blast as it engulf the crystals and shards. The explosion was itself unnatural, it was as if the force and energy released by the explosion was sucked into the vault as the positive and negative force countered one another.
As Erik raised from his hiding place, he felt the aether in the room stabilize, his senses and aether returning. He knew the sound would swiftly bring an army to him, so he moved quickly toward the storage area, looking for an exit, a loading dock, anything. As he moved he spied a room near the lab, a large book on the desk within. Grabbing the book, he noticed a door to the outside in the room. Kicking the door he splintered the door, and took his first deep breath of fresh air in three months, the cold air burning his lungs. Looking back into the room, he heard the far off sound on soldiers running toward him. He moved through the door. He would find the room on a high level. He would climb the ledges, moving from roof to roof. Resting where he could, stealing food, he made his way to the city gates in two days. From there he hid himself on a cart for the dead, "heretics" of the church, unworthy of a burial within the Holy city, riding out across the grand bridge, to and then through the Gates of Judgment. Escaping the cart he ran, wearing only loose pants, without shirt and shoes. He eventually made his way to Dragonhead. Seeking a friend, he acquired clothing and food. Nervous to stand out until he was safely in Alliance territory. On foot he traveled through the harsh snow toward the north of the Shroud. From there he walked toward Gridania. Once there he contacted the Immortal Flames and sent for the Falcon. He returned to Ul'dah exactly ninety days since he had been taken.
![[Image: Emblem%252520by%252520Rhea%252520Zaheela%252520x50.png]](https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-5YSh8yMniHU/VlLStr_7SSI/AAAAAAAAIQ4/qLoOmtz-Jdg/s100-Ic42/Emblem%252520by%252520Rhea%252520Zaheela%252520x50.png)
