Knights of Anathaeum What Hides In The Dark

[Briar White]

Briar considered the knight who spoke. He seemed to be their leader, or at least spokesperson. She opened her mouth to respond to his words when a roar echoed through the skies. She looked up in time to see a storm dragon with a woman upon it. Lightning crashed to the ground in between the Knights and Witches, sending a few of the knights stumbling.

Briar did not move, feeling the energy coursing through her veins. She knew she was not the only one to grin as what seemed to be backup for the knights arrived. So they had a storm dragon. This would certainly be interesting.

Peace had never been an option- not for all the knight's posturing, and certainly not after their dragon rode in with wings of thunder.

"It seems as if you never wanted to avoid a fight after all," she said, snark and disdain clear in her tone.

She did not have to look to her side to see that Bridget was calling upon the lightning the High Mother provided.

Briar herself could feel the nervousness and anger the knights hid in their souls, but one in particular caught her attention. It came from the small female knight. Her brown hair was short and her face young, no older than Briar herself, but her hazel eyes betrayed something much older than she appeared. There was something... darker in her soul and Briar's grin stretched into something feral as she met the girl's eyes.

Bridget Darkfield Petra Darthinian Nacht Valborast Valchek

 

[Byanka Valkas]

Byanka felt as if she'd stepped into something way over her head. Petra descended with Norvyk amidst streaks of lightning, that the blonde witch seemed to call into her hands with ease. As if their 'meeting' that was quickly descending into chaos was not enough, Byanka seemed to catch the attention of the witch with hair the color of dirt.

Byanka felt as if the witch was looking into the depths of her soul, and if it made her grin in such a disturbing manner, Byanka wondered what in hell she had seen. That scared her more than anything else- more than the lightning the blonde one welded, or the fight brewing with the storm.

She met the witch gaze for gaze, dampening her fear. Fear would not help her here. She would need courage and strength.

She glanced at Julian through her peripherals, since he had deemed himself their spokesperson. He was rather good at it, she admitted to herself.

Valborast Valchek Petra Darthinian Nacht

 

[Nacht]

Nacht sort of trembled as Norvyk appeared, screaming his fury and attacking. The roar was so loud it shook his being. He knew then that this probably happened to everyone that hadn’t seen a dragon fight, so it wasn’t that bad. “We- I didn’t want one.” He responded to Briar’s snark with a bit of sadness, a tad dejected. He managed to walk backwards and join the rest of his brethren before anything escalated, so that was fine, but how to fight? Such a large scale battle against knight-level opponents was certainly not a scenario he was expecting to face as a squire.

The guards at Dunhold were only human and out of their element, but these witches were certainly not out of theirs. It would take more than wolves to take even one down, for sure. Well, whatever. Both parties had decided that peace was a futile gesture at this point despite his efforts, so all that was left to do was survive. He would not die fighting in a battle he thought ultimately meant nothing, that was for sure. A clash of thunder sounded then, and Nacht shook but steadied. Fear would do nothing here, and if he would be brave for anyone, it would be for the poor victims of the witches. Nobody deserved to die in such a horrible way, that much was obvious.

Well, obvious to him. Evidently there would be more death, the only question he had the power to answer was whether he’d be standing there in the end. The answer, he decided in that moment, was yes. His story would not end just yet.

 

[Julian Benavide]

How quickly it descended into chaos. How easily, considering all that led up to it. The storm, the witches, and Petra and Norvyk's arrival all stoked the fire that was already burning.

Julian sighed dramatically, but he wasn't sure anyone but those who stood closest to him heard him. Lightning coiled around the blonde witch's hands, and meanwhile, the brunette witch stared down Byanka.

"Despite what you may think, we are not that stupid," Julian replied to the brunette witch, shouting to be heard over the thunder and pounding rain. He withdrew his sword with a flourish, rain sliding down the silver of his blade. "We came prepared."

He looked to either side of him, at the knights that had gathered to avenge the dead knights. There were still holes in their deaths that they could not fill; but Julian knew enough of the witches to know that they were of the 'eye for an eye' persuasion.

"I have an offer," he declared, "For the deaths of our squire and knight at the hands of your witches, we shall have the deaths of a witchling and one of your witches. Of our choice,"

Valborast Valchek Petra Darthinian Nacht Bridget Darkfield

 

[Valborast Valchek]

Valborast cocked his head up and the side in Julian's direction, eyes still locked onto the witches that loomed between shadow to shadow and tree to tree, head upturned as a snarling act of insubordination welled and surged within him at the offer made. A canine revealed itself as a sneer developed, and was smothered by monumental act of will to a dissatisfied snarl. He afforded his eyes to look to the skies for a fraction of a moment, thunderous and flashing with power from Petra's bombardment that did tear up the earth and set the scene in flashes of pale whites and blues, shadows casting out in all directions as the power did surge.

He dared not look at Julian, he knew his look would be murderous.

What's that damn fool playing at, this is farce!

It was not within Valborast's imagination to grasp at what ploy was in motion. He was not familiar with the methods of these witches concerning bargains and accords. He was familiar with his own corrosive attitude, and such did guide his disbelief in the progression of parlay.

His tendons wished to lash out to rip out the steel and bear the magic that thrummed within him, a vein within his forehead did rise to the occasion of the stress of enduring the negotiations, his neck suffered rising prangs of tension.

His eyes darted to the sky once again.

It's fine for you dragonrider, you won't be hit with the first wave of retaliation!

Eyes darted down, and a feeling of impatience, of yearning for the first blow to ring out true pressured him, tempted him from this languid feeling of being held hostage to the words being thrown out. His left hand snatched at the rain as frustrations mounted alongside the awful realisation.

We've lost the initiative if we ever had it!

His nostrils flares as he resolved himself to this fate, his tact of magic changing with his burned mood to the circumstance, sourly changing course from offense to defence, despite as much as he wanted to provide first blow, he knew they would receive it first. He thought of the debrief, if they managed to secure one for themselves.

He would not stand there and endure casualities he could prevent being lain at his feet.

Julian can answer for his own deeds. I will not suffer blame here for the loss of us. I will do everything I must to circumvent this disaster coming.

He focused on the magic within him, thrumming drumbeats of potential assaults on the foe, redirecting his imagination and will to defend themselves from the opening attack from the witches that Valborast viewed as inevitable. Black grasping hands that would will themselves at the mere spark of energies lashed out against them from his hands that ached from holding such force within him for so long.

What charitable thoughts he had belonged solely to the squires and himself, who Valborast did believe did not deserve to be cut down for such a bold request that Julian made. The request to Valborast was more akin to an invitation to rebuke with violence, a power play from one possessing an iron gauntlet, when all they had were slick boots in wet, dark forest, with a rushing river behind them to prevent their swift exit.

Bridget Darkfield Petra Darthinian Nacht Briar White Byanka Valkas Julian Benavide

 

[Nacht]

Julian had to be joking. If the witches were seagulls, he had just thrown them a bunch of fish that were obviously poisoned. The witches were not idiots either, and disrespect quite like asking something for nothing was practically explaining you wanted a fight. What was his plan here? It just didn't make sense that he would willingly throw on the straw that broke the camel's back. Not to mention, making the assumption there was the actual culprit here when the clan of Iron wasn't present was at best not the smartest and at worst a terrible insult.

Nacht had basically accepted that a fight would begin, but this was a rather disgraceful way of going about it. "Julian, if they want to start the fight, that's fine, but saying things like that is...not very knightly." He pleaded, very politely trying to get the knight to shut up and start preparing for a clash. "There are only two of three groups here, so who says it was any of them and not one from the clan of Iron?" He reasoned, trying not to upset the knight, who he knew as nice but not entirely emotionless in his thoughts either. They didn't need his noteworthy confidence here, however beneficial it was, they needed logic.

The most likely scenario was that the witches also wanted a fight, and Nacht sadly realized that his effort would have been for naught anyway, but now they had reason, because unlike before, when the witches had wronged the knights unfairly and therefore were in the wrong, Julian had just used the threat of violence on every witch to make them allow him to enact murder of two of them. They had lost any sort of moral high ground they had before, as well as any initiative. At this point he turned and walked back to Valborast, who looked about as happy as he did.

Truth be told, he had never been in a battle quite like this one. It was scary. Nearing the knight, he whisper-rambled a rushed question: "There's no going back now, Syr Valchek. Our friend has sadly assured that much, I believe. How do you act in a big battle like this? I've never been in one."

Julian Benavide Valborast Valchek Petra Darthinian

 

[Briar White]

Despite claiming he wasn't one, it truly seemed that the knights' spokesperson was indeed a fool. Though she had to give him credit for knowing how witches loved retribution and punishment. But it would not serve him well here, because the witches were smarter than he gave them credit for. She wondered if he thought them simple, savage creatures caught up in their rules.

Fool.

Witches made the rules. Rules that only applied to witches. And seeing how as far as Briar was aware, the knights were the ones at fault here- sending two of their own into witch territory and then throwing a fit when the witches didn't take kindly to it. She knew their peace had been tremulous, but had it all been for naught?

The knight beside him did bring up a valid point about Iron Clan not being here. Although the two from the Order had been killed at the hands of a lower Wood Clan coven (after being interrogated for information), the Iron Clan was suspiciously absent from all of this. Though they were at Sky Clan's borders, they were not making any sort of attempt to break through and get a taste of Knight blood; at least that was the last Briar had heard before arriving here. It was certainly odd- usually, the Iron witches could not get enough blood, especially Knight blood.

"You have poked a sleeping beast, I'm afraid," Briar said, not at all pretending to be afraid of the consequences or sorry for the fight to come. "And the woods are full of beasts,"

Valborast Valchek Nacht Bridget Darkfield

 

[Byanka Valkas]

Byanka tried not to groan (or make any noise at all) when Julian made his "offer". She didn't know enough about the witches before her to know if they would even take such an offer, but it felt rather... "unknightly", as Nacht had put it. Two wrongs did not make a right, and if that was how the witches settled things, it only proved them more wrong. Stooping to their level did no one any good.

Despite it all, however, she could understand it. She thought he might see it as an opportunity to spare loss of life, on both sides in fact. Two knight lives for two witch lives. It didn't make it right, but she could understand.

It didn't matter either way, because the witches all but laughed in Julian's face. The brunette shifted her attention back to Julian and Byanka at least was glad that it was no longer on her, if only because it allowed her to extend the fingers of her mind. She could sense such a strong urge to fight amongst them, but doubt in the brunette one, who seemed to be their leader.

So the witches weren't exactly certain amongst themselves, either. She wondered if it had anything to do with Iron Clan's absence at this fight. Not that Byanka was complaining; she had heard just enough stories to know that Iron Clan was the last Clan anyone wanted to meet. They were known especially for their bloodthirst, which made their absence all the more strange.

If the Order was certain they hadn't sent any knights for a reconnaissance mission, but the witches were, one of them had to be wrong. And Byanka was of the mind to believe that the witches were wrong; though that sort of confidence was what had been Julian's downfall to begin with.

Valborast Valchek Nacht

 

[Bridget Darkfield]

Shadows caressed Briar's ears before the voice of Bridget could be heard, only heard, by the Heir Daughter of the Wood Clan. "Iron Clan are massing at our borders. The Lady Mother, Morilla, bids me to help." Although Bridget's lips did not move, her annoyance could be heard through the wisp of shadow.

There was nothing more than to prove to her own Clan that they too could be bloodthirsty as the Iron Clan. That they too can still serve the High Mother in this way. But she was Heir Daughter, only answering to only one other above her.

Lylian, take my storm. The High Mother wills you to wield it in my stead.

She was still several paces before the tree line, standing under the cover of night and angered clouds that prohibited the moons from offering their moonslight. "My Second will take precedence." Came the shadowed whisper to the witches, each present. Her own coven knew why their Heir Daughter must withdraw. Refusal would mean being stripped of her title, and death soon after.

Bridget had a vision for her Clan's future... and she needed to play the board her grandmother set before her in order to win.

"I hope to see you Knights soon. It is about time we check in on the witch you took in two decades ago." Bridget's wicked smile timed with the sky lighting up with lightning, turning dark for a second before a second flash struck the land behind the Knights. The blonde witch was gone, nowhere to be seen amongst the ranks of her own coven.

Thread Exit.

 

[Lylian Darkfoot]

Lylian was hyper-aware of everything that was going on around her, especially concerning Bridget. So she knew it had been coming when the Heir Daughter shifted focus. Her grandmother needed her at the border, to handle the Iron Clan witches. Lylian would take over- something she wasn't exactly eager about; but she would do it anyway.

Lylian was unlike other witches in the aspect that she was not ambitious. All her intentions rested solely with the High Mother and she did nothing that the High Mother, the Lady Mother, or Bridget hadn't commanded. Her duty had been made clear from an early age- follow orders, and follow them well. It was what she was best at.

So as Bridget put her in charge, handing over her lightning, Lylian took it in stride, embracing the power; not because of any ambition, but because that was her command.

Lylian weaved the lightning through her fingers like a rope, keeping her silver eyes on the knight woman and her dragon as Bridget disappeared in a flash of lightning. Lylian let it crash as the thunder echoed, waiting for Briar to make the first move.

The fight was about to begin.

Bridget Darkfield

 

[Valborast Valchek]

Truth be told, he had never been in a battle quite like this one. It was scary. Nearing the knight, he whisper-rambled a rushed question: "There's no going back now, Syr Valchek. Our friend has sadly assured that much, I believe. How do you act in a big battle like this? I've never been in one."

Valborast remained in tension's grip as magic thrummed throughout his circulatory, fingertips tremoring with each heartbeat that graced him. Locked senses to the threat, sympathies growing to the squire that was soon to be embroiled in this dark panoply, he spoke low and curtly in response and in instruction, for the situation demanded economy of words.

"Be not reckless, do not rush to them. These are arcane foes. Turn not your back. I will shield you from all I can. Lash out against those who rush forward to interrupt me. Beasts of the forest may be their vanguard, wolves and the like. Listen for commands, the call to withdraw, the call to rally, respond swiftly to them. Do your duty with all the ferocity required to cast out the foe's intent. We represent the Order. Let not our retorts disappoint these bitches."

Bridget Darkfield Petra Darthinian Nacht Briar White Byanka Valkas Julian Benavide

 

[Nacht]

Valchek's response was curt but not unhelpful. He had outlined a strategy, one that did not seem TOO tricky. There was no predicting the witches, so simply reacting might actually be better than making the first move. He didn't exactly like calling women bitches, but he wasn't going to say anything right now. Valborast was trying to help him, so not the time to be progressive. Nacht nodded, gathering shadow around him as he had done so many times before, comforted by the dark crowding around him. They represented the Order, and that meant something big to the boy. Bigger than himself.

"It's her. The brown-haired one is the leader, I think." he noted, more to himself than anything else. As soon as they moved, the battle would start. The white haired one who had been given control of the lightning must have belonged to a different clan, but they seemed passive for now, like waiting for something. An order, most likely. He held out his hands and summoned the wolves he had used that night at Dunhold, feeling them wrap around his legs. He remained quiet and ready for whatever was next, the only movement made being his hand petting the heads of his summons.

"Let's not die, guys. Go team." he said, having just kind of accepted he was in the thick of it.