Shoot the Messenger
for Deimos
Jigano Silversmith
the Sage
Provost of the Loreseekers Soul Shepherd
Portal Guardian
Age: 36 | Height: 6'2" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 30 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 38 - Luck: 42 - Int:
ISUMA - Mythical - Griffin (Venomous)
Played by: Cirago Offline
Change author:
Posts: 3,914 | Total: 7,219
MP: 10170
#1
Jigano turned from the Notice Board shortly after sunrise with a heavy heart as he finished placing the parchment. There was a weariness about his eyes, and a grim tightness to a mouth that was more usually tilted in wry humor. His long hair was tied severely back in a tight braid and the rapier on his hip seemed far less a dashing decoration than usual. Sharp eyes might note the loving care shown to it, and the marks of hard use on the handle and quillons, carefully sanded and buffed down.

For a moment the Loreseeker seemed lost as he looked around the Temple, his eyes drifting to the Shrine as if expecting to see a familiar form bent in worship there. She'd been missing for less than a day and he had spent hours searching desperately for her and Caiside, fighting the forest's magic on weary wings until darkness and exhaustion had forced him back to the barrier's edge and he had nearly dropped from the sky on Rory's doorstep. His body had demanded that he sleep until dawn, but as soon as he was awake he had forced himself to eat and then slipped away, stopping only long enough at the Guildhall to pen a terse message for Sam and Maea, and writing the notice he had just posted to the public board.

Guilt twisted, harsh and nauseating in his gut as he considered his own sensible advice - don't go alone. Don't go unprepared. They had been a group and still two of their number had vanished without being able to so much as call for help or leave signs of a struggle. Going back alone was worse than foolish.

And he had no right to do that to the ones who were still here, who didn't want to lose him in addition to Amalia and Caiside.

Deimos
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
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Posts: 6,559 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#2
D e i m o s
Send a heartbeat to the void that cries through you
Relive the pictures that have come to pass
A sense of unease had begun to prickle over his shoulders – caustic and overbearing, some sentiment of an ill omen he couldn’t explain. He’d wandered down narrow streets and familiar avenues, winding his way back and forth like a pacing predator, a study in speculation and the unknown, constantly bombarded by the semblance of something missing. It was off-putting and apprehensive, a curling, twisting knot in his chest, and as he scoured the landscape, the scenery remained unchanged, but lacking fundamental cores. It left a lingering chill, a foreboding wake, and he growled, continued on, head raised and piercing eyes struggling to catch hold of the demons floating in their ether, the snatching claws, the raking consternation he couldn’t explain.

The Reaper’s movements and motions ceased long enough on their savage anthem and steps to read the Notice Board, glancing over new and old parchments pinned to the columns. A few caught his eye, exploring the woods with caution via the Loreseeker’s advice, and the memory of his and Kiada’s sojourn into the nestled branches, ferns, and nettles was enough to rattle his cage once more, raising brows as he continued to peruse. There was once more, crisp and fresh, that sent him more on edge, a fervent little agony beginning to toy and play with his nuances: several explorers have already been ambushed and gone missing. The rest was scanned and committed to memory, but the haunting, poignant decibels of the former lit a frenzy, a fire, a kindling, incensed multitude in his membrane; dreadful and seditious.

His eyes slid over to the author, nestled nearby. Deimos hadn’t noted him when he’d first arrived, driven entirely to distraction by the disquiet slowly clambering in his soul: but Jigano was different, here and now, the brightness gone from the days of the festival, a haggardness touching on the fringes of the Loreseeker. He should've known then - but the curiosity, the nagging, spiraling inquisition scraped along his fringes and deepened his demands. The unknown glared and gaped at him, threatened to swallow him whole in his ignorance, in his ineptitude, in the secrets lurking beneath the voids and folds. “Jigano,” he called from his stance at the board, taut and rigid, awaiting a certain, sinking finality, head gesturing to the note. “What is going on?”
For now we stand alone, the world is lost and blown
And we are flesh and blood disintegrate with no more to hate
Jigano Silversmith
the Sage
Provost of the Loreseekers Soul Shepherd
Portal Guardian
Age: 36 | Height: 6'2" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 30 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 38 - Luck: 42 - Int:
ISUMA - Mythical - Griffin (Venomous)
Played by: Cirago Offline
Change author:
Posts: 3,914 | Total: 7,219
MP: 10170
#3
He was not so far gone that he had failed to see Deimos enter. The gentle giant who looked so fierce and dour, but who had shown a lighter side, a care for both Kiada and Amalia, laughter and kindness and joy. He had seen the way Amalia looked at him, had gleefully encouraged it, encouraged them, finding happiness in his heartsister's joy.

Now he watched as the mountain of a man read the notice board, finding his throat too tight to speak up. How could he face this man? He couldn't even face himself in the mirror right now, had only faced Rory because he couldn't not...

Which was the answer, wasn't it? How could he not tell Deimos that Amalia was among the missing? Except...

As the man turned to him Jigano nodded a cautious greeting, half-expecting one of those large hands to lash out and wrap around his throat. "Deimos," he greeted back quietly. "Did... did Kiada not tell you? I sent her back here to get help. I thought she would come straight to you..."
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 6,559 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#4
D e i m o s
Send a heartbeat to the void that cries through you
Relive the pictures that have come to pass
The trepidation, the apprehension, failed to leave him as Jigano seemed to embody him with a sense of caution, too quiet, buried under an inauspicious clarity. The tangible threads of dread wound themselves around his jaw, clicking shut and clenching tightly, chest rising and falling with a distinct, calculated measure, striving to keep himself calm and composed as the weight threatened and loomed on his spine, as the revelations had yet to succumb to his countenance. How many times had he seen someone come to him in the same way – agitated, nervous, tense? How many times had he been delivered the grating summons, the haunting news, the pressing, tightening noose? The warrior advanced, stepping forward a few paces, closer to Jigano, narrowing his eyes, suspicion scraping its way to his features, the nonchalant position beginning to wear away the more the nuances nettled and barbed, the more they hovered and beckoned, the more urgent and desperate the unspoken portents pounded against his temple.

He mentioned Kiada – not telling him something? The girl and him had always been fierce allies. Deimos couldn’t imagine her forgoing to proffer information – they’d been comrades in arms for lifetimes before this one…so the choking clarity began to stifle and railroad his thoughts, clenching a fist without recognizing it, vocals nearly becoming a growl, a rasp, a knife on the edge. “I have not seen her.” Where had she gone? Had she journeyed with him, Attuned and eternally capable, her harpy feathers spread above the forest? Then where was she now? The beckoning inquiries clawed and thorned, clogging up his chest before he even knew or understood the incoming confessions. The note’s scribbled writing haunted him, as if he already had put it all together, and he merely required the divulgence. “What was she supposed to say? Why do you need help?” His brows were furrowed, his Machiavellian mind drawn and conspiring; the devious measures tying themselves together, urgent for answers, for more than just the careful discretion.
For now we stand alone, the world is lost and blown
And we are flesh and blood disintegrate with no more to hate
Jigano Silversmith
the Sage
Provost of the Loreseekers Soul Shepherd
Portal Guardian
Age: 36 | Height: 6'2" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 30 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 38 - Luck: 42 - Int:
ISUMA - Mythical - Griffin (Venomous)
Played by: Cirago Offline
Change author:
Posts: 3,914 | Total: 7,219
MP: 10170
#5
Jigano did not run from the larger man's approach. He stood firm, though no small part of him yearned to be moving, to be out, to be back where the trail left by Amalia's kidnapper's led off into the endless sea of twisting trees. Kiada should have already been gathering supplies and allies, a group ready to head out soon, if they hadn't already left, but he couldn't imagine Deimos not being among their number. Even before the big man spoke Jigano could feel something cold and heavy wrapping around his chest, constricting his breathing as five simple words confirmed a fear that had only just risen to choke him.

He closed his eyes as Deimos continued, driving the thorns deeper, and when he opened them again they were bleak with pain and an anger he didn't dare admit to. "We went into the woods yesterday," he said softly. "Myself and Amalia and Kiada. We found Caiside there ahead of us, and a fox called Ianto who said he would show us the way... but when we followed him..." He hesitated, his expression tightening into even more grim lines, skin pulling tight across his skull. "We were ambushed," he growled, the hint of the beast beneath his words. "I sent Kiada to fly away and get help. Ianto abandoned us. I don't know if I was too small to bother with, or if I was allowed to go on purpose... But I'm going back." The blue eyes that rose to meet the Reaper's held the inexorable certainty of a glacier in spite of the man's slender frame. "And I could use your strength, Deimos."
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 6,559 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#6
D e i m o s
Send a heartbeat to the void that cries through you
Relive the pictures that have come to pass
There it was: the forewarning sliding apart and revealing the depths of the multitude underneath. His mind sizzled, fumed, and sparked, a smoldering bout of inner workings beginning their fundamental calculations – because this was the Reaper at his very core, alive and fiendish, ruthless and commanding, devious and calculating, a coldblooded machine, a living, breathing weapon. It roared and kindled along his incensed form, a hundred, a thousand myriad things extending from the past (gone; no matter how much he’d done, tiny children torn from their mother’s arms, items collected and taken from the unsuspecting, invasions wrapping their chords around his neck as he rampaged and fought for them all), sliding their icy denizens into his throat and down his chest. They were chilling remnants and furious, ferocious things, a blend of glacial elements and the fire, the rage, the seething, malicious wrath scaling and scalding its way through his limbs, his flesh, his sinew. He memorized the roots and phrases, the journey into the woods, the ambush, Kiada sent off into the sky to ensnare assistance, Ianto abandoning them to the wiles and wills of the forest. But then he touched upon the things unsaid and unspoken; nothing of Caiside (whom he didn’t know), and nothing of Amalia’s whereabouts.

This was it then – the loss. It’d just started earlier this time, wrapped its heathen hands along his throat and strangled. Try, just try the ghosts had guided, had hoped, and he almost wanted to laugh, because the patterns repeated and reviled.

Except giving in was no longer an option. Once, the hollow, empty shell of his soul would’ve merely sunk further, given into despair and torture, torment and agony, waited for the rest of his figure to be taken over by sepulchers and catacombs, mind and presence already in the grave. It was too late for him now, already firmly entrenched and rooted in this damned place, reaching out for those who’d dared, who’d tolerated, who’d accepted his ridiculous, stupid, asinine presence.

“What of Amalia? Do you know where they went? Did you see anything?” The inquiries clustered together, scheming and conniving, maintaining the knowledge of Ianto, the debt the fox owed him amidst the chain of timber and flames. I could use your strength, indeed. Jigano wouldn’t be going in there alone. Deimos would charge because that’s what he did – assaulted and sieged, coiled munitions and weapons and damnation into his palms. But he wasn’t an impulsive, impetuous force – this would require cunning, more than just meandering into the clearings and hoping for the best. The Loreseekers had already been mauled once. “What ambushed you?”

A promise, a vow, slid from his mouth, the firm bite of resolve and merciless corruption – he was a man straight from hell again, varnished and lacquered back into the shadows of the battlefield. “We will find them. But not alone.”
For now we stand alone, the world is lost and blown
And we are flesh and blood disintegrate with no more to hate
Jigano Silversmith
the Sage
Provost of the Loreseekers Soul Shepherd
Portal Guardian
Age: 36 | Height: 6'2" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 30 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 38 - Luck: 42 - Int:
ISUMA - Mythical - Griffin (Venomous)
Played by: Cirago Offline
Change author:
Posts: 3,914 | Total: 7,219
MP: 10170
#7
He had more than half-expected violence. Had envisioned one of those massive hands reaching out and closing around this throat. He might have welcomed it, the pain a way to assuage his guilt, but it was a self-destructive, selfish thought. He couldn't abandon his friends any more than he already had, and he couldn't help them with a broken neck. It would create more problems if he allowed it to happen, anger between those who cared for him and the man who merely wanted his friends back, too. And so he shoved the intrusive thoughts away and focused on Deimos's questions, short and sharp and cutting through to the heart of the matter.

"She was the first one they took," he admitted, lips thin with self-recrimination. "I found a trail, and claw marks on the ground that weren't hers. Parts of a disguise - feathers made to look like leaves. Broken twigs. but didn't have time to follow it. Getting back to it will be difficult because of how the forest works. If what Ianto said can be trusted..." He trailed off, nose trying to wrinkle into a snarl that he forced down. "The forest has a mind of its own, like the Labyrinth. It moves itself to confuse and mislead. If you want to go somewhere it pushes you out again. We couldn't follow scent trails or marks on trees. And whatever took her... she should have been able to cry out a warning, but she didn't. There was no blood, though, no sign of a fight. She was just... gone." The word fell like lead from his lips and he didn't seem to realize that his fingers had curled into fists at the memory.

He shook his head at the most important question, looking up to meet Deimos's dark gaze bleakly. "I don't know. We never saw them. Amalia was gone, I sent Kiada to reach safety on her wings, and then Ianto called out that it was an ambush and took off. I told Caiside to stay with him but..." He bit back a growl of helplessness. "He wasn't acting right. Something had gotten into his head. He took off in a different direction and I was right with him and we crashed through a bush and I came out the other side... and he didn't." Tense shoulders slumped as the bard looked away, his eyes finding the notice board and his previous note asking for Attuned assistance. He swallowed hard.

"My strength was stolen from me when I came here," he said softly. "I know I'm not strong enough to save them alone. I wasn't strong enough yesterday. But Rory is with me. And now you. There are others... but most of all, I want answers from that damn fox," he growled, eyes narrowing as he looked back to Deimos fiercely. "He mentioned something about 'Fae' owning the woods. I think I remember something... from Safrin's book..." he trailed off, gaze turning thoughtful for the first time as a flicker of inspiration broke through his cold anger.
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 6,559 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#8
D e i m o s
Send a heartbeat to the void that cries through you
Relive the pictures that have come to pass
Oh, he longed for violence. It contorted straight into his frame and rampaged along his spine, affixed itself to his limbs and urged them into malice, into bedlam, into those unfettered moments of unholy vehemence, where blood streaked and raced and pulsed into vivid marks and rendered lacerations. He yearned for those war tapestries staining his rapier, his blade, his cutlass brushstrokes, the acrid, rancorous, bitter taste flooding his skin and the keen edge of a weapon finding its way home – a carcass torn, crevasses shorn into bodies, the stupor of a last breath, the crackling shards of a fallen form. He craved the inner workings of a battle cry, the screeches, the howls, the wicked doldrums sinking and slinking into his vicious ultimatums, the wicked, nefarious invocations tapped into his ichor, into his lifelines, and distorting the framework of the land (the world withering and decaying before his very eyes, enemies and opponents folding one by one, shining stars gone out in whimpering flames, shorn too early because of his hate, because of his menace, because of his savagery). He was the Reaper. He was death. He was desecration and devastation. He was ruin and abomination. He wasn’t about to let the world forget it.

But it wouldn’t have mattered here – Jigano didn’t capture them. Jigano didn’t snag them, force them to disappear into the void. He had enough sense to conquer the wrath curling over his tongue; it would’ve been easy to blend blame into the bard’s feet - you were responsible an inkling, a dagger, he could’ve pierced straight into his heart. The frigid, analytical proportions to him knew he required Jigano for all his intentions, for all his knowledge; but the fury thundered against his ears.

He saved the information about Amalia’s Attuned nature for later – tucked it away with the notion of claws not hers.

Anger was a tangible, weighty thing though, a tense, blunt knife held in his hands, in his clenched fists, in his rogue, taut stance, ready to seethe, ready to pledge, ready to shove a blade directly into another’s skull. But so was sagacity and wisdom, and he begged for it to simmer further in his brain, blend and brew, so it could froth and fume over the corporeal indignation, the frustrating aspects that he couldn’t go out there then and now, find them all, drag them home, destroy whatever had come to claim them.

By Jigano’s words, it was going to take more than brutal force to tear them away from the foreign world, the manipulative woods, the trickster warrens, and vicious labyrinths sheltered by glades, by promises, by the infernal unknown. Just gone echoed in the curling webs of his skull, and he didn’t stop to imagine what that meant, didn’t dare. There would be time to revisit the torment later, when everything had fallen into place, when friends were liberated and released. “Fae,” he finally said, stewing in his vivid silence, after all the inquiries had been answered, after all the notions had been shared. The piercing slate of his gaze, naught left in them but promised, seditious barbarity, stared and centered entirely on the Loreseeker, leader of this damned operation. “We need to gather those willing to come. Resources. Information.” It came out clipped now as his mind reveled and worked, eager and fervent to be back into the machinations, into the Machiavellian tendencies, into the shades of things he’d thought he’d left behind. “I can speak to Ianto.” The fox owed him  - and if he was the sort who abandoned others in a fight, known to save his own skin, Jigano’s rage might send him off before they could even investigate further. “Perhaps we should question some Fae. There must be a reason they were taken.” Taken; if that was what truly happened at all.
For now we stand alone, the world is lost and blown
And we are flesh and blood disintegrate with no more to hate
Jigano Silversmith
the Sage
Provost of the Loreseekers Soul Shepherd
Portal Guardian
Age: 36 | Height: 6'2" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 30 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 38 - Luck: 42 - Int:
ISUMA - Mythical - Griffin (Venomous)
Played by: Cirago Offline
Change author:
Posts: 3,914 | Total: 7,219
MP: 10170
#9
He could feel the anger rolling off of Deimos, the loss and rage, the coiled muscles tense as springs and the snarling darkness in his eyes. He raised his chin as the larger man glared at him as though his gaze alone could flense the bard's skin from his bones in retaliation for losing his guildmates - and the sister of his heart - but Jigano did not back down. No words the Reaper could throw at him had been left unsaid, no blame left unaccepted. He would not have fought back if his one-time baking partner had thrown a punch, but neither would he have been cowed by the violence.

He had fought worse than Deimos, and won.

He had befriended worse than Deimos, and still lived.

No, fierce and dark though the other man was he did not inspire fear, but his control in the face of his desire to lash out was admirable, and made him a valuable ally. Not friend. Jigano knew they would not be friends now. Perhaps would never rebuild that tentative bridge that had now been shattered. But if Deimos would help him in common cause...

"I have already begun to gather help," Jigano agreed, nodding to Deimos himself as proof of that, in addition to those he had already mentioned. "Information is next. I'll track down that reference to the Fae. And see if I can't find one willing to talk. Ianto..." He hesitated, and then swallowed his pride, nodding slowly to the big man. "Is yours. He ran with the rest of us. It might not have been intentional, but he did nothing to help us, and little to warn us. You weren't there... you may be able to approach him with a clearer head," he admitted. "Either way, he's currently our best hope of navigating the woods, and since he seemed to know what was happening, he might know where they were taken." At least they had not been killed out of hand. He clung to that truth with everything he had, holding to hope that they would survive long enough to be found again.
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 6,559 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#10
D e i m o s
Send a heartbeat to the void that cries through you
Relive the pictures that have come to pass
No, he didn’t know him. He didn’t know Deimos at all.

Mischief and amusement amongst friends was one thing; and that’s all Jigano had ever seen of him, until now, until this point, until this juncture where bedlam threatened, renewed itself in the segments of the Reaper’s being. Neither of them were all-knowing, omnipotent forces – perhaps that was how they’d arrived at this situation in the first place, with companions snatched and the grasping, clenching unknown crawling down their backs. All they had were their experiences, their strikes, their claims; Jigano couldn’t possibly come to contemplate or understand Deimos in all his glory, when the glacial walls clicked into place, when the violence and fury collected, bound, and tethered itself into one triumphant, magnificent, deadly opus. Worlds had tossed the beast about and he still remained, chiseled, sculpted, and molded for just these occasions, the warfare, the melee, the skirmish into the unknown, unleashed from one hell and sent to another. The Loreseeker wouldn’t know the lengths he’d go to save the ones he cherished, how much he’d bled to liberate their souls, how much he’d give and take and tear apart, an unrelenting, brutal force of vengeance and menace. Jigano would be free to guess, to observe, to estimate, to assume. Eventually, his ignorance would die away, and perhaps he’d be able to view the dangerous, nefarious presence before him – monolith and stone, nonchalant and apathetic, warped to life by every seething maelstrom pervading and pulsing from his body.  

Deimos reserved his judgment of the bard, though for now, it had come tumbling down to reality.

“I will gather some and contact a Fae.” This was a mutual effort, a foundation not meant to sever ties or bludgeon alliances, to blend them all together and form a blistering camaraderie, to rescue and liberate their friends. The more they could gain, the better off they’d be – especially if some deigned to be tricksters or deceivers. He could get ahold of Ianto and others, assemble those who were willing to provide assistance, no matter the danger, the treachery, lurking in the woods. It would be up to them.

Then he took the mantle, the helm, the sword. “Good. We can all meet tomorrow afternoon at the edge of the Wildwood. Bring your information, resources, weapons, and people.” Thereafter, he turned straight back to the notice board, grabbing hold of a piece of parchment. He’d be posting there later – once he’d ascertained enough knowledge to pass along to their constituents.
For now we stand alone, the world is lost and blown
And we are flesh and blood disintegrate with no more to hate
Jigano Silversmith
the Sage
Provost of the Loreseekers Soul Shepherd
Portal Guardian
Age: 36 | Height: 6'2" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 30 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 38 - Luck: 42 - Int:
ISUMA - Mythical - Griffin (Venomous)
Played by: Cirago Offline
Change author:
Posts: 3,914 | Total: 7,219
MP: 10170
#11
One brow arched in mild surprise at how quickly the big man moved to take over, and a part of Jigano - no small part at that - bristled at the assumption, the arrogance of him. It was his sister, his guildmate who had been lost, and he could not, would not take a back seat to anyone else for their rescue. For his atonement. No matter what he had to risk. For a moment something old and buried sparked deep inside...

And was as quickly snuffed out again. He was not what he was once was, not in terms of power or choices that he once would have made, and for all that he had lost, what he had gained was too important to throw away so soon.

He swallowed his pride, forced to remember why he had come back in the first place, when his body had failed him the night before and he could look no longer. He was afraid for them, angry at himself, desperate to fix what he had broken... but he was wise enough, experienced enough in leading and in fighting to know that he could not do this alone. So he merely nodded in agreement and exhaled slowly. "At noon, then," he agreed, and spun on his heel, mind racing as he went down his list of where he needed to go.


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