Back Into Madness [Aurin]

[Imogen]

Ash 42, 122

Ansel Gerhard sat with Aurin Kavafis in silence for a while, simply watching the lights above the once-proud High City of the Northlands.

In his youth, Gerhard recollected, the evening sky of the city was gently aglow with the work of the Lamplighters' Guild, a noble organization which was all but destroyed when a previous Grand Marshal had introduced the electric lights. Those had brightened the cityscape considerably, dimming the stars above, especially over the (then) newly-erected tower of the Presidium. The night he had escaped from the Order for his long exile, there had been a lot more smoke- gunsmoke, even a few cannons fired off at him and the Sunsingers who had assisted in his rescue.

Then there had been the night when the Sanctuary of the Sunstar fell. That had been underground, of course, the evils of the Warrens kept relatively pacified by a guard of silver-limned blades, but when the explosion went off, smoke had risen from the hills and the Grungeworks anyway. That hadn't been the worst part, either- whatever disruption of the leylines had doomed so many of his friends that night had dyed the skies red, until it looked like the very stars were weeping blood.

Red was also what it had looked like the day of the explosion, when he'd been caught off-guard by mistspawn and Aurin dragged his battered old body off to Kalzasi to recover. Saved his life, no doubt, and a Sunsinger would not forget a debt like that, but at the time the worst part had been watching the shattered sky of the city grow distant. It felt like abandonment. He could still feel it, keenly.

He'd expected to see a less dramatic sky today, but those hopes were in vain. When Zaichaer had finally come into view, the cracks remained outstanding in the sky, the rift above still pulsing. Thankfully, rather than deadly mists covering the land, only a thin stream of light pouring directly down into the ruins of the central hub of the city was visible. Rumors of this had reached Kalzasi; some type of artifice designed to leech the unstable aether from the rift and direct it downward into whatever trap the covens and the Circle had managed to devise in so short a span. Still, it was a troubling sight.

"Well, Aurin." Gerhard said, at last, "What do you think? Is there even anything left to be saved?"

~~~

Gerhard's philosophical reverie was interrupted by the return of his pupil. Imogen had insisted on scouting ahead while Ansel kept to a steady pace on his horse (he'd tried to ride at a full clip the first day, but he was forced to admit that he still wasn't quite recovered... or perhaps he was just getting a bit old), and had left him with a bag of clothing. As soon as Gerhard saw the albtaross gliding down out of the cracked red skies, he fumbled for the bag, untying it and tossing it to the ground nearby. Imogen fluttered to earth and hooked the bag with her beak, hopping as she dragged it silently back behind a stand of trees.

A moment later, the younger Sunsinger returned, looking a bit more harried and a lot more Orkhan. She was fully-clothed once more, and drawing her hair back into a ponytail as she approached.

”Okay, good news and bad news.” Imogen spoke matter-of-factly, and did not wait for either Ansel or Aurin to choose which to hear first. ”Good news is that I've spotted the Sanctuary of Twilight and I recognize the guards. We're still holding on to a safehouse in the city, so if we make it there, we can get inside and get permission to take Aurin here to the Sanctuary of Dawn for our big meeting.”

”Bad news- the streets are flooded with, uh, walking corpses. Ghouls. Think I even saw a ghost. We're pretty much sure to be attacked on the way in.”

[Aurin]

Aurin was a smart ass, and he had given Ansel plenty of sarcasm along the way, but it petered out as soon as they could see the rift on the horizon. Cathena City had been home once, and now Kalzasi felt almost like a place he wouldn't cut and run from if things went south. He couldn't quite empathize with Ansel's feelings, losing his home, but he could sense how the man's aura dimmed when he thought or spoke about it. Aurin deflected with humor and sarcasm, while Ansel deflected with a taciturn demeanor. Perhaps they understood each other better than they could articulate. Certainly, he hadn't expected Ansel to take a shine to him. Of course, he wasn't nice or even pleasant most of the time, but he was there.

"I've always been one to cut my losses," he admitted, "but between the people I have in Kalzasi and now the covens..."

The man paused, eyes cutting up to the albatross' approach. While Imogen was gone, he finished his thought.

"I will help you ferry people out. I will help reinforce whatever protections remain for those who remain. The people are more important than the place, but it will take more knowledgeable people to say whether Zaichaer's streets can be retaken within our lifetimes."

The trip on horseback had been slower than chartering an airship, but it had allowed him to practice his bequest from Valencia. Even now, he mapped the slipspace, finding it wasn't as difficult as he imagined, though she had said his Semblance trick might help. He had sensed the slipspace even before she marked his left shoulder, but the new Rune helped him understand what he was seeing and, in fact, engage with it.

When Imogen returned, he frowned. Then he reached into his saddlebag.

"It pays to come prepared... I don't know if your magic weaopns are effective against them, but I brought some necromancer ichor... And Imogen, wouldn't you say it was tactically unsound to wander off from the party to change back? You are exposing yourself to danger and it's not like we haven't seen it all before."

It was entirely possible he was concerned about her safety. It was also entirely possible he just wanted to see her breasts.

"I thought you would have brought back some immodesty from Ecith."

So, perhaps more the latter than the former.

[Imogen]

"What, are you afraid there's a detachment concealed behind those bushes, Aurin?" The Sunsinger sounded unphased by the crude joke, tugging at a sleeve until the wrinkles fell out, "Still, if you think I'm old hat, I could take your form instead, give a little airing to whatever it is you think you're working with."

This was... not really how the rune worked, or at least not how Imogen understood it to work--it could make her a human man, but not copy Aurin's features precisely--but he didn't need to know that. Anyway, maybe Animus could copy his form, if one knew how? 'Becoming a doppelganger of Aurin Kavafis' wasn't really on her ever-lengthening list of things to investigate.

Imogen did not address the more practical question, not sure how much of the Coven's secrets she ought to give Aurin. She was used to fairly frank exchanges with the Railrunners and Kindred, but his claim to membership in the covens still felt tenuous to her. Better to let her superior respond.

After a moment, Ansel did just that.

"The weapons of our order incorporate a particular magic, said to be inspired by Ysadrin. The silver fire should be effective against anything within the city, including the Mists themselves." Master Gerhard's tone was flat, as though that statement of efficacy was where he intended to end things, but a moment later: "That was the basis for the old Sunstar project. When we found how close the Warrens were to the city, we thought we might conduct mages safely thereby- our magic could destroy anything in the first few Deeps, so our safe houses there should have been safer than ones aboveground. Alas, the Order dashed those hopes when they triggered the explosion which sundered the Sanctuary."

The old man went quiet, dwelling for a moment in that old disaster. Imogen did not interrupt him- she wasn't sure who he had lost that day, but she was certain he had never really recovered from that wound. Instead, she swung back onto her horse and started down the road towards Zaichaer.

"What's your pleasure for the approach, Aurin? I don't mind the direct route to the Sanctuary, personally, but..." She nodded meaningfully back towards Ansel, who snapped out of his reverie in time to give her a nasty glare. Still, he didn't say anything; he was wounded, and two decades away from his prime in any event. "We could also wait for night, if you'd like. I can see in the dark just fine. Not sure if the walking dead would be affected, but it might help us miss the mist-tainted."

[Aurin]

Aurin didn't respond at first; it seemed things were too grave even for his twisted humor to lighten the mood, and certainly Ansel seemed to be lost in dark reverie even as he shared things with them. He kept the faintly glowing bottle of ichor in hand, planning to anoint his blades with it when they crossed into the city proper. With their horses moving and a question asked, he considered.

"You both know Zaichaer better than I do," he allowed. "I don't fancy another night sleeping on the ground, though, and we're close enough that there might be monsters out here to disturb or rest as well. I say we just go in, by whatever route you deem best. I suppose if walking corpses still use their normal senses, I can keep them from noticing us. Myshalarai magic, you know." He was much more practiced at illusions than travel tricks, even though it had been easier to join the Railrunners than the Myshalarai—at least for him.

He looked down at the bottle and rather wished he knew their tricks; ichor would wear off eventually, but a Sunsinger's weapon wouldn't.

"Let's focus on staying alive, though. We can't help anyone if we're dead. Even the Grymalka, probably. But if we are focusing on this particular Sanctuary... great. If we find ourselves near any of the other sweet spots—the Market, the Necropolis—we should probably check in, hey?" In the Market, he could look in on his Railrunner brethren, and into the Menagerie as well. He could use some of Eshar's pointed humor in times like this, and wondered if they had made it out alive or remained somewhere. It was one thing to blend in with the populace and outsmart the Order; it was another to survive a Mists-ravaged cityscape.

[Imogen]

Imogen's expression soured as Aurin brought up the Necropolis, but she nodded anyway. His rationale made perfect sense, even if she didn't want any part of the Grymalka's gothic labyrinth. The Market was a good call, though- if anything remained, it might have been shielded from the mists by the Railrunners' spatial magics. After all, the Market was, undoubtedly, the most impressive work of collaborative magic the Covens had performed since the days of the Menders.

"Fine, fine, though I wouldn't get your hopes up about the Necropolis. I don't know about you, but I haven't got one of the Grimalkin tokens, and I don't fancy trying to cut a path through their sentinels." That had been the cause of the delay in sending for Dr. Wardell a year prior- without an invitation from the shadowy priests, knowing where the Necropolis lay made no difference at all. Hell, the Order had known the location of at least one of the doors and it had never been breached.

She chose an open approach to the northern gate, figuring that the dead and twisted were unlikely to be acting in concert to set ambushes. Larger streets simply meant that they would have more warning of any approach.

...and it was a sound stratagem, but the first obstacles were not monsters at all.

As they approached Zaichaer, more and more signs of regimental décor came into view- standards, sigils printed on barricades steadied with sandbags, and men in filthy uniforms on townhouse roofs. Before long, even Imogen was forced to notice that the perimeter of the inner city was under active guard by the remnants of the Zaichaeri armed forces.

The Sunsinger's first instinct, presented with a military presence, was to get behind cover and find an exit. The men--boys, really, by the look of most of them--up on the rooftops gave her the same hard, untrusting look that she remembered well from the city's defense forces, and it was almost enough to convince her to turn back before they raised those ratty-looking rifles and opened fire. But they didn't. The hard looks were not followed by challenges, or orders to stop and turn out her belongings for inspection.

"Seems like having something real to shoot has taught the peacocks some manners." Imogen muttered to herself, softly enough that she was sure none of the boys standing guard could hear. She wasn't one to press too hard when life presented a gift like this.

(Still, she decided, the next time she came this way would be in a human form. It would be only too easy for one of the people on the roof to take a potshot at a passing greenie.)

None of the guards on the main thoroughfare challenged the party on horse, but a checkpoint soon became apparent anyway. What looked to be a full platoon attended the way further in, with bivouac tents mixed with more permanent-looking fortifications. Two gun nests overlooked the checkpoint, though their emplaced weapons all seemed to be pointed towards the city, rather than their approach.

Imogen fell back slightly, her horse sidling up to Aurin's. "...didn't spot this from the air, sorry. We could go around, unless you think you can..." She waggled her fingers, suggesting by this eloquent means that he work up some fantastic feat of Mesmer which would allow them to simply ride through undetected. The idea wasn't wholly ridiculous- while any major checkpoint ought to feature Aura Glasses so that the guards could detect approaching mages, with the state of the city and the continued distance of General Overmann's armies, there was no guarantee that the guards here would have such provisions.

"Or we could just try to sweet-talk our way in. Last time I was here, there was a bit of a détente on the whole 'shooting witches on sight' business."

[Aurin]

The fox-faced man was only too happy to have the more experienced Zaichaeri lead the way. His one trick was wide open so he could sense dangers approaching, monstrous or otherwise, while another trick was ready to blanket them in invisibility should the need arise. It hadn't so far, but when they stopped, he considered.

"I haven't sensed an active Rune other than ours," he said slowly, musing, "so I'm fairly certain I can just make us invisible, muffle our sounds and our scents, and we can just bypass them as long as nobody's clumsy and bumps into anyone else." At Ansel's nod, he nodded back and wove the aetheric patterns of their surroundings through theirs such that the sight, sound, and smell of them faded into the background. Just before his voice would be entirely lost, he said, "Meet you on the other side."

And then he could have screamed and nobody would have heard him.

That was actually rather disturbing.

But he could at least sense them, having woven the glamours and feeling that energy. With no other semblers about, their path should be easy providing the soldiers didn't break out into a flashmob or other. He gave his horse a nudge and sent it walking forward, his hand patting it to assuage whatever spooking the glamour might cause it. He wended his way through the checkpoint, on alert for anyone moving too close to him, and then waited for the others to catch up once he was out of sight of the checkpoint and dissolved his own glamours.

"Easy peasy," he said with a self-satisfied smile. The Myshalarai hadn't made a mistake in him if he did say so himself, but of course he didn't say so himself. That would have been arrogant.

"To the Market?" he asked quietly, not quite sure which locale would be easiest to reach from here.

[Imogen]

Imogen let out a low whistle as she observed Aurin's spell take hold. Well, "observed" in the negative sense, perhaps- the impressive thing was that she couldn't see anything happening.

Her experience with illusionists was, admittedly, limited. The Covens, at the best of times, were much like business partners, cultivating relationships of convenience and remaining polite for the sake of reputation among a close set. The Myrshalai, being invisible assassins, had very little call for the services of the Sunsingers. In turn, the Sunsingers--who considered themselves something of a moral enterprise--were generally unenthused about consorting with the hedonistic assassins. Also, the Myrshalai found it very annoying that Sunsinger swords dissolved nearby phantasms.

Still, it was a nonissue. Orkhan were not known for their great stealth, but Imogen had spent years accompanying the Railrunners and had gotten pretty good at the sneak-thief lifestyle. Additionally, with her Ecithian arts, she commanded all of the terrible powers of the domestic housecat. She was quite prepared for stealthy movement.

(Or would have been, if they weren't all of them on horseback.)

Thankfully, Aurin's glamour worked very well. She led Master Gerhard's horse closely around the light fortifications of the checkpoint, passing within a few feet of a seated soldier without drawing the faintest hint of attention. Partway through the crossing, she was briefly alarmed to hear shouting behind the party; but this only served to draw more of the soldiers out of their way as they passed. She strained to catch a few of their shouted words:

"...just saw them approaching!"

"Willis, sir, said he counted three-"

"-lost track completely?"

Ah, well, that made sense. The young soldiers had been watching them approach the checkpoint- it must have been a bit spooky to suddenly lose track of an unknown party headed for your camp. Curiosity assuaged, the Sunsinger stopped listening. It was really no concern of hers what conclusions the soldiers drew from the disappearing witches.

As the checkpoint disappeared behind them, Aurin dropped his glamours. The man looked as smug as a hound who had caught a dragon's tail, but Imogen couldn't deny that he was a damn good mage. That was good, at any rate. A skilled witch was a great asset, and the converse applied too.

"We may as well try for the Market first." Imogen allowed. Once they reached a Sanctuary, she didn't intend to leave without getting a bath and a night's rest on a proper bed. "I know where a couple of the gates to the Market were located, mostly around the Pfenning and West End. The only thing is- I can't open them. So unless you can do it, we'll need to check until we find a doorway which has been kept open. Or one of the Engineers, I suppose."

Though Aurin had apparently joined the Coven, Imogen doubted they'd taught him how to open the Market Gates in the little time he'd had. That was one of the big secrets; not so much because it represented some hidden art the Railrunners jealously guarded, but because the Junction system had served as a primary defense against the Order. The fewer people who knew how to open the Market Gates, the safer it all was.

(But perhaps he could... work it out himself? It was a mystery to her.)

"That'll mean crossing the Talacara." Gerhard observed, "What are you thinking, the bridge by the Theater?"

Imogen nodded. "I visited the Pfenning before I came to Kalzasi, and the bridge only sustained superficial damage. Plus, if we're pursued en masse, we can retreat to the Theater's storehouse, I suppose."

"Sensible." Gerhard said, though a dubious tone in his voice implied that he was wondering if Imogen was merely suggesting this route because it was near to her old place of work, and she feared she'd get lost otherwise. Imogen's demeanor gave nothing away.

"To the river, and the bridge, then. And after that, Aurin, d'you fancy starting with the gate on the Institute grounds or Embassy Way?"

[Rune]

The sun was out that morning, it wasn't unusual outside the city, but within, between the Mists, the smoke from the East End, and the odd clouds of yellow fog that now rose from the long abandoned mines to pour from sewer grates, inside the city saw much less of the day light.

As the party approached the bridge a genuine cloud passed from overhead and a bright beam of real sunlight poured down over the area, illuminating what looked, at first glance, to be a small structure of some kind erected on the bridge itself. The base of it was wider than the tip, perhaps twenty feet across. It narrowed steadily until the top some thirty feet from the paving stones, was barely as wide as a human forearm. The tip waved lazily in the chilled breeze coming off the river, movement that looked mindless and natural.

Quiet sounds began to be heard, seemingly like nothing the wind and natural dripping of the city at first, but, if one listened, if one's senses were honed to an edge by fear or use, one would begin to realize they were too regular, happened a little too often. After a few minutes, despite having seen nothing out of the ordinary no matter how often shoulders were glanced over, it became obvious that the party was being followed.

The bridge stands before, the discomforting sounds behind, Zaichaer waits to see what choices will be made.

[Aurin]

Aurin was only too happy to let them strategize the path. Had he been alone, he would have figured it out, but he was proving his worth and knew when he ought to let more informed heads lead. While they discussed, he allowed himself a brief moment to enjoy the warmth of the sun. He didn't often have time to appreciate little, quiet moments of beauty, especially in dangerous territory, but he knew he was safer with the Sunsingers than without them. Then, the decision made, he urged his mount to keep up with theirs.

His trick was stretched out in all directions, and just as he started to probe the structure that he didn't remember being there, he heard noises behind them.

"Fuck," he muttered.

He was ready to glamour them into invisibility again, or fight if that was what Ansel deemed appropriate. Aurin wasn't the sort to fight unless it was necessary or advantageous, but he knew the Sunsingers enjoyed their hierarchy and he didn't want to get on their bad sides. So he cut his gaze toward the elder Sunsinger for a decision to be made. Not being the leader wasn't entirely comfortable, but he wasn't the King of the Covens or anything and, ultimately, he just wanted to survive.

The man glanced at Imogen, as well, curious as to her reaction. These two were the Sunsingers he knew best, and for now they were a unit.

Then back to Ansel, "Well, mon capitaine, what's our move?"

They didn't have a great deal of intelligence either about the structure on the bridge or who was coming up behind them, and while he was seeking it with his trick, he hadn't filtered through it enough to offer anything of strategic value.

[Imogen]

Ansel eyed the bridge ahead for some time, clearly wracking his brains to try to identify the odd structure atop it. It wasn't long before he gave up.

"I hesitate to rush into... that." the old Sunsinger master said, at last, "It's certainly large enough to knock us all into the Talacara, or worse. Corporal Ward?"

Imogen blew a slow breath out with her teeth still clenched, lips flapping a bit as she tried to consider all of the troupe's options. "Could try shock and awe, sir. Enough swords to bash that thing down, whatever it's made of."

Master Gerhard blinked with surprise. "Really?"

Imogen nodded with clear reluctance, and Ansel considered her coded proposal for a moment, then shook his head. "Apparently I should have been sending my students off to Ecith this whole while. Sadly, I think we must avoid that option for now. No need to give our location up to everything in the city."

There was certainly wisdom to that, and the Orkhan girl nodded seriously. "Then either we stand our ground against whatever's surrounding us or we take Aurin's approach again and try to sneak around."

"Let's try both." Gerhard concluded. He reached for the air at his side, which warped and compressed under his grasp until it finally ignited. A line of silver light erupted from both ends of the old man's closed fist, before swiftly coalescing into a golden spear. Behind him, Imogen materialized an absolutely gigantic double-handed sword, then called a round shield almost the diameter of her body into being, floating in the air at her side. A few seconds later, all of the summoned weaponry erupted with silver fire.

The Sunsingers' light-aspected Reaving raised the temperature at the mouth of the bridge only imperceptibly, but the shift in the atmosphere was immediate. The air seemed to lighten as the nova-flame literally burned away the surrounding miasmas, drawing in some of the dark, hopeless aether which infused the city and obliterating it. It was a small thing, but quite noticeable in the oppressive gloom of the High City's heart.

"Aurin, we'll distract whatever's chasing us. See if you can figure out what's on the bridge, and if it can be neutralized." It occurred to Imogen that it might be somewhat insulting to the man to imply that they did not need his sword with them. "Unless you've got another idea, anyway- I'm not your ma. Don't get too close if you're planning to do the vanishing thing, either. The sword will set your illusion on fire."