Ward-Knight Elouan was a new transfer to the Regalian Magi-Vault from Kintyr, tasked with the Fourth Watch. This comprised the latest hours of the night, those just before the dawning, when the recruits of the youngest cohort were roused from sleep and ordered to stand guard. Attacks were less likely during this hour, mostly because the Regalian slum rabble who orchestrated them did not exactly keep the kind of sleep schedule to issue a challenge at four in the morning. Elouan had kept busy since his arrival. With the meteor striking and the emergency allocation of Aelrrigans to help prevent the spread of corruption, he had had little chance to see the Regalia of which he had been told so much. Both its glories, and its sins. The young Knight positioned himself by the side exit of one of the guard-houses, beneath a time-worn stone outcropping. His shoulders shuddered under his cloak and his breath spilled frost into the air: despite the chilly climes of Kintyr, he never had quite adjusted to those cold hours before the sun poked out, when the night seemed coldest of all. Rummaging inside his overcoat for a small carton, he withdrew a cigarette and put the stem between his lips, lighting it with a flick of the Steamtech lighter he kept in the same place for emergency occasions such as this. Not afraid of being chewed out if he was caught, Elouan simply exhaled a puff, posture straightening. It was not such a bad time slot, once one got used to it. Footsteps. A hand fell to the hilt of his sword as he spied a hooded figure shuffling up the gravel road towards the Magi-vault's main entrance, though upon spying him keeping watch, they turned and approached his direction instead. Visitors seeking Aelrrigan protection against Lothar or Red Hunters were not unusual, and some of them indeed did come seeking sanctuary in the middle of the night, in the process of fleeing an attempt on their lives in the woods. Two times already had he rescued someone from such clutches. But, this was no reason to let his guard down: just as many times had would-be assailants approached in disguise to scout the weakest points in the Aelrrigan defenses, the day before an attack was to come. Two worn hands reached up and pulled the hood down as the traveler came under the warm glow of Elouan's torch. A smug-looking Velheim man with short-cropped hair and soft eyes, a grin played at his face as he and the young Knight had a conversation on directions to the nearest lodge and traded a story of distant lands, until he excused himself departed with a wink. Left behind, Elouan could swear that his sight was beginning to play tricks on him. The dawn that should have arrived by then did not, the brightness of the sun still absent, and little shadows shuffled in the foliage. He clutched tightly his weapon and muttered a prayer in passing, cigarette long extinguished, and no consolation to keep him until the morning. The first thing that told him something was wrong was the golden smoke rising from the Magi-Vault's main building, as if through a hole in the roof. His eyes shifted. This did not prepare him for the sudden explosion that radiated out, bursting the air like balloon, smoldering in dancing blue and red, ripping the stones from their foundation like pebbles. A chair-sized rock slammed into his chest and pinned him against the wall, forcing the air from his chest as a dull, surprised wheeze of pain. It was the armor he wore that kept him conscious long enough to keep staring, vision swimming, barely able to make out the two shapes dancing in the wreckage on the summit. Not dancing - fighting. One the Velheim from earlier, but with blazing eyes of gold and red, cast against an arrogant Teledden wreathed in blue and silver, an impossibly sized claymore in her hands. As Aelrrigans streamed in to intervene, awakened by the noise and ensuing alarm, each Arken needed to spare only a moment from their duel to kill them. The Teledden burned three to a crisp with a snap of her fingers, blue flame immolating them and leaving their molten armor to dully clatter to the ground, while the Velheim swept a hand out and caused a sunburst to swallow four more whole, disappearing them without time for even a scream. The Artifacts stored in the room became their toys, as lances, chains, halberds and spears were picked up and discarded in rapid succession, some of them splintering under the force of their Magic, others denting, some simply being dropped. When Arken fight, it is a glorious, sudden, and terrible thing; over as quickly as it begins, for each moment plays out as half a century in the minds of the petty demigods, seizing upon their optimal future and attempting to force it. What ended this one was the Velheim's hand closing around a talisman, and the Teledden's around a scroll. With the building a smoldering wreck and every guard sent to stop the event gruesomely slaughtered and spread out across the Magi-Vault's floors, the Teledden was the first to teleport out, vanishing in a crackle of azure Essence. The more visionary Velheim could not help but take a few moments to appreciate his handiwork, also sliding an extra dagger and a spyglass into his belt. He glanced back down to where the young guard had been, and tutted - he'd almost forgotten. Picking up a rusty-looking ceremonial axe, he proceeded down the hill towards where the young Knight was still stuck. Elouan opened his mouth slightly as if to negotiate. The Arken looked into his eyes for a moment and exhaled, taking his head off with a careless swipe, and turning his shoulders to march off into the night. It was not until four hours later that Metropolitan regular forces would arrive from the City on the word of a strange sighting, along with the regular Aelrrigans from the city, reporting to inquire as to reinforcements for the Meteor. It was hopeless. A hundred different circles of Cultists and interest groups of every sort had descended on the burning Vault like vultures and extracted every item of interest, with only dead bodies (some of these even stripped of their armor) and bare, broken stones to greet the dawn. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- AELRRIGAN ORDER GENERAL REPORT Regalian Magi-Vault subject to unknown, hostile Arcane anomaly. Personnel loss: 50 persons, comprising 100% of integrated garrison. Artifact loss: 327 items of interest, comprising 100% of items of interest. Order Issued: Location terminated for the foreseeable future. Regalian Magi-Vault declared indefensible. Personnel to await further orders and to address Meteoric anomaly. OOC: This is the IC reason for the termination of the Magi-Vault Raid system. Some Artifacts will be re-circulated. Aelrrigan page will be clarified soon. The battle is not IC knowledge, but can be learned through hints in events.
It was a hopeless sight. Rhain had been right here, yesterday evening, taking what he did not know to be his final watch at the Vault. Due to the chaos plaguing the city, shifts had vastly changed, and had it not been for the reinforcements needed at the barricade, it would have been him, lying amongst the rubble. He had only been stationed here for three or so months now. Attacks on the Vault were frequent; that he could handle, though the aftermath of Avarice’s visit towards the end of the year still invaded his thoughts from time to time, more than he’d like to admit. This, however, was nothing in comparison. Flames danced before his eyes, though whatever fires had been used for this destruction had already died out by the time he arrived with the others from the city. The Godborn was unfortunately privy to more than the naked eye could see, traces of incredible magic tainting the battleground. Yet, he could not avert his gaze. He’d tried to fend off the lingering thieves who scrambled for any artifacts they could still get their hands on, but without a means to secure these items, it was a losing battle. He had to focus on something, anything, knowing that if he let all of this truly sink in, he’d be worth nothing in a fight. With the help of the Metropolitan, the area started to be cleared of unwanted persons, giving room for those present to truly assess what, and who had been lost. The morbid reality was that it was quicker to identify who was still alive, rather than to identify the mutilated bodies that scattered the site. What ended up breaking him was Elouan. Three months ago, Rhain had been the fresh transfer from Kintyr, just like him. He had met him only briefly at a recent meeting, though his face was unlikely to leave his mind now. The young Knight fell to one knee beside his fallen comrade, or what was left of him, silent prayers steeling himself for what was yet to come. Tinted visors hid the intense grief in his eyes.
Sightings of Viviwynne Gwentyr had become rare the past few weeks, with rumors beginning to swirl that she was unwell. But it seems she had decided to make an appearance sometime after the dawn. The bodies of the slain knights were beginning to be removed, then, and Viviwynne travelled to each one, uttering a traditional Breizh prayer for the fallen. It was all the Celate could do, really. As she looked towards the ruined Vault, she shook her head and uttered another Breizh prayer of protection for the city. Wordlessly and sorrowfully, she returned to her estate.
