Where We Fall 3/14 (Legacy of Kain, Janos Audron/Vorador, NC17)

[emerald_embers]

Janos was not sure if it was just him going mad or the world, but each week seemed to be averaging more and more peculiar days as time went by lately. Whatever balance the land had ever possessed seemed thrown, and he was less than certain that the additional strangeness had anything to do with the phases of the moon. Kylian's papers had shown far more than the ramblings of an insane man; the initial drawings were clearly designed after murals in the site he'd accidentally imprisoned himself in, but in amongst the murals were diagrams and designs that provoked a nervous excitement Janos could not repress, especially given the current climate of the war.

With Sianne's guidance, her awareness of the situation with regards to where the Hylden had made their presence known, it was not so difficult to tighten up the hold they had on the East of Nosgoth, particularly towards the South. After their disaster in the Termogent Forest, the Hylden had apparently lost interest in pressing their luck Northeast, but a few skirmishes between the mountains framing Freeport still took up time and effort.

Janos could not help feeling unsettled by how the Hylden seemed almost uninterested in pressing for more territory; despite vampires holding Provance where the Hylden held Meridian - and held it well, at that - their land there was not constantly under siege as might have been expected. The Hylden seemed to have lost interest in expanding, seemed more interested in holding what they already had, and that unsettled him; they had often been known for their opportunist streak, pressing into any land that had not seen military action for several weeks, but they seemed to be holding back now.

He knew doing so risked angering the elders - risked angering more than them, at that - but Kylian's papers begged at least experimentation, and after some thought Janos found himself taking the pages that seemed to detail every angle from which the object they described could be viewed and bringing them to the attention of his human friend.

At the very least a model might be crafted that could serve as multi-dimensional imagery of an object that had been worshipped in centuries past; he didn't let himself picture what the very most he could expect from it might be, told himself he was doing this more out of curiosity than anything else despite the twists that kept forming in his gut.



"I have something that might interest you." Janos laid the papers out before Vorador, watched his friend's interest levels rapidly increase.

"What is this?"

"The design for a sword," Janos replied, trying to repress his near anxious excitement at the prospect of seeing the design set out in metal. "One of my researchers came up with it."

"It would be a nightmare to make," Vorador mused, his tone curious. "But if the edges were ground down finely enough, it could be deadly."

"I'm no expert," Janos laughed, trying to avoid any awkward conversation in which the intricate details of metalwork were laid out before him while he was left clueless as to what any of it meant, finally asked, "What exactly would it take for you to create this?"

"Time, more than anything else," Vorador replied, still eyeing the papers with a look that seemed near analytical, as if he were already picturing the crafting of each part. "I haven't indulged my artistic streak in some time, but the handle ought to be reasonable. The curves in the blade are more of an issue... would you seriously consider commissioning this piece?"

"I can meet the costs easily. Would you seriously consider crafting it?"

Vorador turned the papers over again, admiring the different angles from which Kylian had drawn the sword, before announcing, "As long as you have no issues in waiting a couple of... hm. Weeks, I should think."

Janos nodded in acceptance before opening the sack he'd brought with him; after passing through Freeport for the most recent battles it would have been foolish not to acquire supplies both for himself and those around him. Shia had spices and silks, Samael cheeses despite the fact he never admitted to his weakness for the curious substance so favoured by humans, wines and spirits for his protégés; for Vorador it was salt, beer, and several bars of strange metals brought from overseas. Sianne he had given a set of knives, was unsurprised when she acknowledged them with a vague grunt despite the fact he had not seen her without them at her waist since.

"Interesting. What do I owe you for these?" Vorador asked while holding up each of the bars in turn, seeming fascinated by the different weights and the way each looked slightly different in the light; two seemed to nearly glow, one with a faint greenish hue, another with faint blue.

"Nothing. Consider it partial payment for the sword and the stew; that and for listening to me complain."

"You'll be bringing several more sacks of these then?" Vorador laughed, before whistling at the bar of metal that had secretly been Janos' favourite; he could never have named it, but it seemed to carry its platinum-like white metal gleam no matter what light one placed it in. "You do realise you owe me nothing for the conversation, although if I could get away with charging for it I might finally silence those who tell me their life stories before their orders."



Progress was slow given Vorador was more interested in the sword as an oddity and pet project than as a weapon, but it was interesting to see little signs of progress as the weeks passed; interesting to watch slivers of metal move from carrying one curve to carry two, starting to more closely resemble the waves that made the object of his people's worship so unusual; and so damned impossible to craft whenever they had tried in the past, though they had been working off murals and not Kylian's images. Even his mentor Aluniel, for all her talent in magic and her hobby of metalwork, had been unable to quite balance the practicality and beauty so often described in legends of the sword when she attempted to create the blade. She'd spent most of her last days focused on attempts, something to do when a crippled wing left her useless in battle, but had never succeeded.

Kylian seemed to have forgotten whatever trauma left him wavering between life and a dreamlike state for so long; did not recognise his own work when presented with any of it, but perhaps that was for the best. In the dreamlike state he'd been almost constantly on the verge of distress; now that he appeared to be over the trauma, the worst he ever exhibited anymore was a strong sense of confusion as to what exactly had happened to him while he was in the site Janos had recovered him from. He had no memory of his rescue - no memory of his ever being in need of rescue - but after enough time passed he seemed to take his lack of memory as a sign that maybe he was better off not knowing.

Vorador was generous with the 'scraps' of his trade, letting Janos pocket some of the shapes he'd crafted out of metal that were no longer of any use to him; some of the alloys he had created using the exotic metals Janos had handed over were reworkable, but some would set hard as gemstones or turn brittle and weak. Even so, Vorador's skill was evident in even the poorest quality slivers; the craftsmanship evident in the experimental pieces was fascinating, especially to an untrained but curious eye.

The top of Janos' dresser was starting to look like a collection of strange, handle-less blades; some bizarre array of exotic knives and throwing weapons. In truth most of the slivers were probably more dangerous to the wielder's hands than anyone they were thrown towards, but it was entertaining to imagine someone thinking he was skilled in some unusual branch of weapons should they ever see his dresser.



Sadly in some ways, being a General meant that anyone save his closest friends obeyed the protocol saying that they were not permitted into his room without his consent regardless of their need to see him. It would be nice to be woken by someone shaking him instead of hammering on his door for attention, but certain privileges seemed owed only to those of lesser rank; strange, but understandable.

Janos could have let months pass quite happily without being woken violently from his sleep by his door being near battered down by furious hands and someone screaming about the Hylden, of treachery in the extreme. Startled into consciousness as the world redefined chaos, Janos found himself fighting for a sense of calm as he took his pike and shield from their resting place to see the damage. Awareness of where the soldiers were taking him turned his stomach, but retaining sense and reason forced him to still it as he was led to the temple. "Inside. No one knows how they -" The soldier cut himself off, frightened and disgusted, and Janos walked in past the wards that should have torn the flesh from any Hylden that tried to enter, looked at the scene that had caused so much panic.

The priests on duty had been murdered, though some small part of Janos was relieved to see that the high priest had not been amongst those killed or panic might have escalated into carnage. Blood and water mingled on the floor and in the sacred pool itself, bodies disfigured by bruises and bones that had pierced the skin's surface had been lined up neatly by those who first came in and discovered the carnage. Janos knelt and touched his hand to the youngest one's chest, felt the dip where none should be from a crushed ribcage. This was no act of stealth, it was one of sheer brutality. "Have replacement priests been summoned?"

"No sir, we -" Janos waved the rest of the comment aside and stood up.

"First send for new priests. We may cleanse this place physically but the taint will remain until they arrive. Who was on guard?"

The eldest of the soldiers who had come with him sent one outside to deliver Janos' message to the seminary. "No one, sir, the wards ought to have been enough."

"Clearly they failed," Janos said, too weary to snap but frustrated nonetheless at the poor security. "A guard of six men at every shrine, and two for each of the elders. No vampire may leave the Citadel without a General's permission until further notice and none should travel alone when they do until the situation has been assessed. What of the Hylden?"

"General Lemm is conducting a sweep of the Citadel. Shia," Janos noticed the contempt with which the soldier spoke of her, made a mental note to question it later, "Insists that she knows nothing of the murderer save that it was no Hylden. Damned convenient for a witch of their race to fail at foreseeing a massacre but be so clear on that."

Janos grabbed the elder soldier by the arm and brought him outside the shrine. "Never speak of damnation on holy ground. It is not your place." He said nothing of Shia herself, knew a repetition of her neutrality would only cause problems until the Citadel was secure and the situation calmed. "See to the guards and arrange for the bodies to be stored until the new priests can see to their cleansing."

"And you, sir?"

Janos bent to tighten his greaves. "As a General should. I'm going where the panic is."



The Citadel was not a place for family life, or rather, should not have been; Janos had never entirely agreed with how many soldiers had moved their loved ones in with them. Bringing them to such a place meant that while they could be seen, they were in more danger - the furthest Eastern provinces were far less likely to come under attack, given they served little strategic value. And while Shianna might live with her parents in the Citadel, her circumstances were different - given her mixed race she was in more danger living alone, and were she living elsewhere she would never see either of her parents; Shia was damn near always on call, Samael faring little better given that his abilities prevented death from being an easy way for potential Hylden informants to avoid telling what they knew.

Again thanking God that the high priest had not been slain, Janos quickly summoned the man from his quarters to lend backbone to the fact that while the attack had been blasphemous, it could not render them cursed. It seemed fairly evident that God would only be more displeased with the Hylden for their transgression, their warping the rules of nature to allow such an attack; and while the masses had been quick to panic, they seemed to realised with similar swiftness that their panic in this case was not justified. The high priest might occasionally seem frail, the passing years having given him slightly bowed legs and lines on his face that could tell a story, but the man's voice lent him authority beyond that of near any other vampire. As a General Janos had developed the ability to throw his voice, force it into being louder and more resonant than might normally seem possible, but there was only so much one could do with what they had been born with. Sianne's voice carried natural depth and strength without using tricks learnt for the battlefield, but no matter what he did there was a certain underlying softness in tone he couldn't entirely shake, and was not entirely sure he wished to; had his accent not already done so it would have rendered his voice distinctive.

When Sianne returned it quickly became clear that no Hylden prisoners had been taken; either they had been damned quick with an attack, or they had never been present in the first place. Sweeps were still being carried out of lower levels, but it was evident enough that given the details of previous Hylden raids compared with this one, it was unlikely that anyone would be found at this point.

Leaving the high priest in charge of the situation with calming the Citadel's inhabitants, Janos stepped aside with Sianne, returning to the scene of the carnage. It would be some time before new priests arrived, but the high priest could conduct a basic cleansing ceremony until he had assistance with removing the deeper taint.

With no Hylden around, it seemed clear to Janos that perhaps another avenue of attack had been taken. Traditional Hylden magic ought to have been negated by the same wards keeping Hylden from entering; merely touching the wards meant feeling the slightly uncomfortable strength of the magic guarding the temple, even though it ought to be wholly safe for any vampire. That left two possibilities he could think of; a traitor, which Janos hoped to God was unlikely - and besides, how could one have caused such damage by themselves? A large group of traitors seemed improbable; and surely they would had been caught or left some sort of trail.

The other possibility left him tense - more tense than the possibility of traitors, even - and after finding Sianne knew little about the wards over the temple, Janos quickly found those in charge of maintaining the wards throughout the Citadel to question them.

Hylden magic was guarded against. Hylden entry was guarded against unless a meeting was scheduled. Even vampire magic was not permitted within the temple.

But one very obvious avenue had not been explored.

"And summoning magic?"

"Sir, no one could summon demons in -"

"Was there protection against summoning magic?" Janos repeated, adding before the ward-binder repeated himself, "No one we know could summon demons. Who knows what long distance spells the Hylden have worked on?"

Seeming to see reason now the ward-binder shook his head, and Janos barely repressed the instinct to curse. Of course the wards against Hylden had failed; the Hylden had more on their side than just their own race now. Some brute creature from the wrong dimension could have been called in to wreak havoc and sent back whence it came from the same distance. Demons would not care for rank or ability, and they would have no respect for religion.

Damned creatures would probably target priests deliberately, recognising them for people who could return them to whatever horrific home they were torn from by the Hylden and taking care of them before they could raise the alarm or prepare an exorcism.

God damn it, why had there not been extra guards posted?



For what it was worth, though specific culprits could not be found, the very insult of the priests being slaughtered seemed to spur the soldiers on in battle further. While all were willing to fight for their God, there was a certain added fury, a certain added purpose in their actions when sent out after an attack against civilians. It seemed the Hylden had yet to master summoning any demon with a capability for flight, which was no small relief, but some of those bound to the earth were able to fire projectiles that could be problematic in air battles unless one rose to levels where the air thinned and cooled, a little like a more smothering, dirtier version of Uschtenheim's usual atmosphere.

Of those capable of firing projectiles there was a particular variety of horned beast whose size and brutality seemed torn out of a child's nightmare, and made the theory of a demon summoning being responsible for the deaths in the Citadel sound more reasonable.

As much as Janos disliked anything in battle that could be construed as 'giving up', he approved less of suicidal recklessness, and had to advise his men against attacking the horned beasts. Their strength was phenomenal, and while killing those who had summoned them did not seem enough to send them back whence they came, he had yet to see one linger on or around the battlefield for long after. The actions taken by the demons were reminiscent of wild animals in certain ways, and their loyalty was meaningless; when the battle turned in favour of one side, so would the choice of target the demons aimed for. The white spiders favoured for land battles were most curious of all in that they only seemed concerned with direction - if one was in their way, one was a target. He'd seen Hylden falling prey to the spiders when someone from the back had summoned the pale demons and sent them forth.



As much as Janos trained and fought, there were occasional moments when the horrors still had an effect on him as visceral as one would expect of all battle. In truth, battle was normally far too chaotic to allow the experience of more than one's survival instincts kicking in; it was the aftermath that caused distress, especially if one lingered to see the battleground after the conquering and retreating armies had left.

Admittedly it had reached a point where Janos had seen enough that nausea and disgust were all but distant memories for the most part, but nonetheless, there were moments.



Janos had suspected the worst when the scouts sent into the forests around Meridian did not return. Meridian was known to be controlled by the Hylden but even so, the aim had been to find out why so many Hylden had been moving towards the city without attacking the vampire outposts nearby with any meaningful intent - or even scouting the area themselves.

When the scouts' bodies were found where the forest's outskirts met the mountains curling down into the deep South of Nosgoth, Janos found himself vomiting for the first time since he'd been a very young soldier. He'd seen bodies shattered after freezing and falling; he'd seen them torn, seen them infected and burnt - but the spiders seemed to have made damn near nests of the soldiers, wrapping them in cocoons of silk and laying eggs inside their flesh.

Normally any corpse would be treated with relative dignity but the process of setting up a pyre or otherwise ritually setting the soldiers to rest meant putting himself and his men through more trauma than he could ever think miserable. There was little else to do than deal with the bodies from a distance, summoning fireballs and blasting the area until there was little left to burn.

It was agreed swiftly that a policy of silence over the exact circumstances of the scouts' deaths and the details of their burnings would be best when it came to dealing with their families, but the sight was something Janos knew would haunt his men as much as it would him and insisted despite Sianne's disapproval that they be given rest for a good few days at minimum.

The responsibility of being a General meant he could not extend the same courtesy to himself, but sleeplessness was a small sacrifice given what the soldiers beneath him were losing.



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