Rising Kite - A story from the world of HWFWM

Kite and his group waited in a narrow alley which was their assigned position for the evening’s strike. From there, they had a decent view over two of the streets surrounding the small compound which ostensibly belonged to a moderately successful merchant in the herbal exports business. It was a large wooden townhouse with two floors next to a warehouse and several other smaller buildings. Around it was a small stone wall topped by a wooden fence, meant more as a decorative way to keep anyone from strolling rather than keeping out a dedicated intruder.

The group was thankful for the many lanterns on the house as well as the adjacent streets, as it kept visibility at decent levels. But their greatest asset when it came to locating eventual escapees would be Serene, who would wait until the strike started before spreading her aura senses as wide as possible. Doing so too early would no doubt alert their targets of their presence.

Kite tried to settle down as best he could where he leaned against a wall just inside the mouth of the alley, barely feeling the chill of the night air. The waiting had begun.

Rupert Versis, deputy director of Gilded's adventure society, stood watching the target compound as one of his bronze-ranked subordinates was finishing the magical inspection of the wall and buildings. A small ripple could be seen in the night air and Rupert’s extremely sharp sense of hearing even picked up the slight hum of the obscured crystal orb which was floating back towards them. Its summoner held it in hand for just a moment before it floated up to rest next to her head.

“The outer wall is clear while the house and warehouse have basic defenses. I did pick up traces of something more powerful beneath the house though, but chose not to infiltrate with only the spell.”

She spoke clearly even in the silence of night, confident that her words would reach only those intended when in the presence of the deputy director, who shared the sound essence with Serene.

“Then the house is our priority. I can hear traces of sound leaking from the warehouse, but nothing significant. The house itself is silent though, which tells a story in and of itself. Follow me. Standard engagement protocol.” the leonid said before he stalked over the streets. The rest of the group followed, enveloped in a hazy cloud of ink whose colors changed in accord with the surrounding, giving the group camouflage even in the open street.

None of those present had any trouble in clearing the small wall, their bronze-rank strength easily carrying them over it as they landed between decorative bushes and started their approach.

“One watcher, iron rank. Second floor.” Rupert stated succinctly without slowing down as he pointed out the hidden observer. Unless the iron-ranker was especially sharp, they should not be able to pierce the adaptive ink cloud. The statement was more to plan their actions once inside.

The group picked a side door scouted out beforehand as one of the team’s newer assets moved up. Three faintly glowing threads shot out from his sleeve, their ends impacting different places on the door as a magical diagram became visible. Over the course of but a few seconds the threads burrowed into the material and seamlessly joined the diagram as they rerouted a few lines, detaching from the adventurer and resulting in a modified formation; now safe to open but still remaining active in other regards as to not trip any alarms.

As they slid open the door and entered the dimly lit interior, Rupert walked slowly and focused on his hearing while the rest swiftly spread out through the lavishly decorated home. He could hear the pair who went upstairs flowing over the soft carpet and the muffled gasp as they took care of the watcher. “Iron-rankers. So fragile.” he thought, focusing his senses below.

He heard nothing, which troubled him as it meant more serious magical defenses but also confirmed that they were in the right place. Defenses that could keep out an empowered silver-ranked hearing was not what a merchant of these modest means would afford.

The group quickly found a door down to the basement at the bottom of a short flight of stairs. Made of wood, it looked normal enough which was actually true, leading only to an ordinary wine cellar.

The stone to the right of the door was not, however, as their inspection quickly revealed a well-hidden stone door with another magical formation protecting it. This one, however, was an entirely different beast.

The same member as before allowed his threads to inspect it, brow quickly furrowing.

“Too much trouble, Braid?” Rupert asked, seeing the consternation of their latest member.

Braid sighed. “It’s quality work and above my rank. With a minute or two of work, I should be able to negate either the alarm or the trap, not both.” he stated with a sigh, adjusting the cloth mask which obscured his face while his threads worked.

“Take out the traps then. I suspect we will be noticed soon enough either way. The rest of you, prepare. Star, prepare your summons. We shall soon knock at this door, albeit rather impolitely.”

“-and the shipment after that should be the most numerous, bringing about a dozen more of the wraith-constructs. Three people will arrive over the next weeks, instructed in their use and deployment. You are expected to facilitate that their work is allowed to progress without impediments.” the messenger finished, her masked face still managing to leave the feeling of her gaze boring into Jarmiel.

As the leader of the local cell, it was Jarmiel’s task to receive and verify the updates from the sect leadership as well as makíng sure that their designs would come to fruition. Him, Jarmiel Varquaz, in a sect. Two years ago, he hadn’t even understood the term, still not understanding why the locals didn’t call them guilds like normal people. Still, he had to recognize that their structure was different, even though his time in the Unbreakable Chains sect hadn’t given him much of the usual sect-life, given their fallen status and scattered nature.

Still, he figured it was better to be here rather than in the grasp of those he fled, as the Autumn lands felt as in the middle of nowhere as he had ever been. And the sect had done good by him, taking him in and rewarding his strive for power. Using his gifts to blend into the local populace had been easy enough, and the entertainment was plentiful as well.

“We understand, messenger.” Jarmiel replied tersely. “We will begin excavations for the upcoming deliveries at once. As long as you get them into the city, we will store them until the time is nigh.”

At his words, the messenger had taken a long look around the cellar floor they were currently standing in. The room was simple, shaped from the bedrock beneath the city by magic. While it was simple and angular, some adornments had been allowed in between stored crates and other supplies, as well as spaces for the different dark paths to practice their arts. Short corridors led away from the main room to more storage and living areas, as only a few of the stationed people could be allowed up top at a time.

“It shall be done, cell leader. Do you have anything else to report?” the masked messenger asked.

“Not much. Our low-key efforts continue as we distribute the contentious information where we can. As instructed, our plans remain long term. We-” he began, but was interrupted as one of his subordinates approached.

“Cell leader, the blood vial for the lookout is behaving erratically. We think he might have fallen asleep on his post.” said the man, pointing toward one of the stone walls where thin shelves had been fastened to the shaped stone. On the shelves were a multitude of numbered glass vials, each one containing the blood of one person stationed here. And the blood inside was moving, pulsing rhythmically. Jarmiel could see the vial with his own blood, and feel his heartbeat pulse in unison with the blood in the vial.

They were a creation and gift from their allies serving the Red Table, an excellent tool for keeping track of the condition of lower-ranked members. As his subordinate pointed out one vial, number nineteen, Jarmiel saw that the pulsing was a lot slower and more steady than any of the ones awake and still performing their task. After a few seconds of observation, he tensed as his bronze-rank aura pulsed in alarm.

“That is not natural sleep.” he said, voice clipped as he saw the ever so slight uneasy twitching of the blood connected to the lookout. “Awaken the wraith and activate the alarm. We are under attack!”

Reaching into his dimensional pouch, Jarmiel ripped a small bottle of shimmering blood from it which he threw towards the entrance stairs which led up toward the house above. He had just begun to make out the activating, ominous glyphs which were triggered by the activated blood before a booming roar blew him off his feet as debris and dust clattered down the stairs.

Jarvan used to say that you were probably in trouble when you couldn’t see Rupert and that you definitely were when he appeared. The leonid possessed the echo, claw and might essences which resulted in the onslaught confluence. Using his skills in stealth augmented by his vastly enhanced hearing along with his practiced control of sound, Rupert could usually get quite close to his targets. But when he did, the results were not subtle.

As Braid gave confirmation that he had isolated the directly dangerous parts of the formation, Rupert shaped an invisible barrier which included only himself and the door in question, not allowing any sound to leak out from it. Then he roared.

The roar of a leonid was always powerful, having the inherent racial ability to increase the strength and speed of allies. Many also awakened essence powers related to the roar, or had the racial gift evolve.

In Rupert’s case, he used one of his essence abilities he thought of as his ‘siege-roar’, albeit that Jarvan had always liked to cheekily call it the ‘best lockpick’. It was a mighty burst of sound which easily shattered solid materials, having only grown more powerful and focused as he ranked up.

While the formation itself was of silver rank, the stone door sure was not. For those around Rupert, it was almost surreal to see the hidden door pulverize in a very violent fashion while hearing only a dull hum of vibration through the surrounding stone.

The leonid was moving before the dust cloud had even billowed out to its final radius, powerful movements carrying him down the stairs as he was the point to the operation’s spear. He could hear choking coughs and orders given below, passing into what his senses told him was a square room just below the stairs.

He was just about to let his momentum carry him towards the closest downed bronze-ranker when fell red lights winked into existence around him. Overtaking even his silver-rank speed, sharp lances of crimson magic shot inwards at irregular intervals from the opening, as a demonic jaw attempting to close its teeth around a morsel.

“Most frustrating.” Rupert thought as he only had the time to slightly twist before the lances buried into him, leaving him impaled in several places and arresting his momentum in the doorway. His reflexes had been enough to avoid being skewered through his head and most of his chest, but he could feel the lances feast on the blood which gushed out from his wounds to sustain themselves.

Unfortunately, his impediment provided time for his prey to get to their feet. He could hear a man coughing out a “Go! Through the tunnels!” and another figure, aura also of bronze rank, leaving in haste. Rupert's painful impasse also blocked his team from moving past him, with the exception of Whisper and one other who turned into a cloud of ink and swarm of rats respectively to move past him.

He could feel the healer close behind him lending him assistance as he had finally gathered the mana and leverage to do something about the pesky trap which he had found himself in. With a jerking, painful movement he made a series of twitching motion with clawed fingers before clenching the hand into a fist and unleashing the special attack. A slash appeared at each crimson lance, following the intended paths his earlier motions had traced out before unleashing several rending attacks at once. A split second later, the offending blood spears were sundered simultaneously, Rupert staggering to his feet while sending a thought of gratitude to his team for the awakening stone of intent which they had given him on his birthday so long ago, back at iron rank.

As the spears dissolved, he could feel his natural healing along with the healing spell cast on him start working as the strike team moved around him. They knew their tasks, not stopping unless they could actually contribute to his situation. What he also felt, however, was a deathly aura emerging which definitely hadn’t been there before. One of silver rank. It looked like he would get some proper excitement tonight, after all.

“Are they there yet?” Dragonfly whispered as she paced further back into the alley, for the twentieth time during the last quarter of an hour.

“Dragonfly, they are a team of higher-ranked adventurers with some stealth capabilities. I remain firm in the belief that there will be a signal when it is time.” Serene answered sagely, the very image of patience from where she sat waiting atop a barrel.

The streets remained eerily silent for a minute, then two. Kite fell into light meditation to keep his mind occupied, Dragonfly continued pacing, Serene sat living up to her name and Will did a slow series of what Kite assumed was different spear katas. Instructor Concente crouched on a nearby roof, eyes closed as if listening to an unknown voice. Then, like a pile of leaves swept away by a gust of wind, the calm was broken as a silver-ranked aura unfolded from the direction of the complex.

As it retreated somewhat after the aura burst, the instructor spoke. “Look sharp, students. None would doubt that it has begun.”

Kite saw movement beginning around the complex, as figures started emerging from the warehouse on their way to the townhouse. While only silhouettes seen from afar, Kite could still make out their running forms starting to make more irregular motions. One jerked suddenly before falling, while another stopped to launch a crimson stream toward the top floor of the house.

“It would seem like the occupants of this place didn’t much like the strike team taking their fancy house into possession.” instructor Concente stated, amusement clear in her voice. “Serene, now might be the time to work that aura of yours. Keep a lookout for runners. It will probably be a short while before the first ones break though. They probably still think they have a chance.”

When joining them, the instructor had made clear that she would leave most decision-making to the team but that she would step in if needed, as this was a bit too important to use just as an opportunity for practice.

Kite nodded at her words, then kept his eyes trained on the complex and wished he had a power to see what went on inside.

Stone dust still filled the air of the basement when Rupert felt restored enough to get on with business, just a handful of seconds after destroying the spear. He could already see flashes of skills and spells unleashed in the mounting chaos, and his ears painted an even clearer picture. The opposition had been sent scrambling from the entrance chamber, one bronze-rank corpse remaining in the room from where it hung, pierced multiple times by barely visible threads.

Rupert downed a healing pill, missing the potions from most other parts of the world. Sure, the pills worked just as well, but the often unpleasant taste of potions had become something of a nostalgic point in his life, associated with the return of life and strength. At the same time he downed the pill, he flared his aura to signal the start of the attack, as well as in hopes to draw in some of the other opponents stationed around the complex. Bringing it back closer to himself, Rupert started walking into the cellar.

The emerging silver-ranked aura was not far away, and it had just become his job to handle. Its feel was definitely one of death, and its lack of life and dynamism proved that it wasn’t an essence-user. Still, it could be a lot of trouble even for the team of well-trained bronze-rankers due to the sheer difference in attributes.

Shored up by Rupert, the adventurer side was winning out in the part of the conflict fought solely with auras, enabling their beneficial effects for all allies in the cramped quarters. The team worked well together, and Rupert was glad to have found enough locals willing to forego the local norms in favor of being the adventure society’s spear when needed. And he would once more become the tip of that spear.

He saw Whisper fill a corridor with obscuring, slowing ink and rushed straight into the roiling darkness carried by silver-ranked swiftness. He could feel the deathly aura ahead as he navigated by hearing and aura-senses alone. As he passed, he made out a stumbling figure in the cloud which he sent flying toward his waiting team with a kick in passing. More were taking cover in some of the rooms along the sides, but he did not stop for them.

Rupert’s speed swiftly carried him through the ink cloud, and after barreling through two iron-rankers he entered a rather sizable storage chamber, at least ten meters to a side. As he heard the thuds of the broken iron-rankers behind him, his sharp ears picked up something else. A whispering, sounding almost as if heard while submerged in waters. The source was rather obvious, a vaguely humanoid creature which seemed to have just stood up from a storage crate. The crate in question looked ordinary on the outside but Rupert could glean complex formations on the inside.

The emerging creature seemed to be built from a hodgepodge assembly of calcified bones of humanoids and animals, which formed something akin to a suit of armor, if irregular and gruesome. In all the cracks and crevasses there was only darkness, and Rupert could see it roiling slightly as if it was viscous liquid which filled the whole inside of the thing. Its silver-rank aura had the flatness of undead monsters, but it was very much animate and he could feel the creature peering at him through all the cracks of its bony surface.

A splintering crash resounded throughout the storage space, which was empty of other combatants save for Rupert and the thing, as the creature charged him, breaking through its own crate to do so. As it advanced, a jagged, milky-white blade formed in one of its hands. The leonid met it, claws ready.

The two combatants clashed in a brutal melee. Whatever the thing was, its movement did not match the still and lifeless aura as it had a lethal ferocity to its strikes. Iron-ranked observers would have had a hard time following individual blows as Rupert started to carve the thing apart. While it had the attributes and a certain level of almost primal skill, Rupert Versis was a seasoned adventurer.

Wherever his claws rent the air, they were followed by ripples of sound which tore into his foes yet again. This meant that one of his strikes carried the strength and technique of an experienced silver-ranker, bolstered by the strength of a leonid, the additional strength from the might-essence, a stacking boon of sharpness from the claw essence, finally finished with the sonic addendums.

The monster did not lack resilience, but even his most basic strikes tore the calcified surface apart. Unfortunately, the monster was not entirely without tricks of its own. Without warning, the black insides suddenly gushed out in a torrent to envelop Rupert, only his sharp hearing warning of the attack by the faintest of ephemeral sloshing sound.

The leonid had no time to dodge, instead answering with a humming sonic barrier which soon exploded outwards. The ability in question was courtesy of his thunderous confluence, and perfect for turning such area attacks back against Rupert’s aggressors. In this case, the black liquid splashed over the shield and adhered to it for a moment before the burst sent it scattering across the room. Wherever the dark substance landed, crates and boxes started withering and melting. Rupert suspected that such a bath would have been less than pleasant.

“I believe I would insist on making some more room for this dance, good foe. Too many friends nearby to really let loose.” he said, preparing to change up the surroundings a little bit. They weren’t far beneath the surface, after all. Rupert charged in before it could take the initiative after its failed attack, grabbing one of its plated arms in each hand and throwing upward. While his foe was heavy by ordinary standards, it did not weigh more than most armored silver-rankers which left Rupert able to comfortably fling it as long as he had proper leverage. As the being struck the ceiling hard enough to crack the stone, Rupert unleashed another of his siege-roars. Straight upwards.

On the second floor of the townhouse, two of the adventurers were holding off a stream of enemies which were accumulating in the yard below as they trampled the decorative bushes and took cover behind low partitions.

One of the adventurers, Grace, leaned out and fired yet another arrow from her short bow. The projectile moved oddly through the air, shifting between acceleration and deceleration until it suddenly just appeared stuck in the shoulder of one of the thugs below. Around the arrow, a hazy field appeared as the target and two other thugs were stuck inside a bubble of visibly slowed time. Two other such bubbles already dotted the yard, as Grace’s time manipulation spheres made her excellent for zoning out enemy reinforcements.

Thinking of their current enemies as thugs felt apt, as they were iron rank at best while some only had one or two essences, and that their quality of gear and general demeanor hinted at the kind of people not even fit for guard duty.

“Is this really all there is to it?” asked her colleague as he swept up a series of incoming magical projectiles with a billowing sheet of water, its volume already containing some scattered arrows and thrown weapons,

“I suspect that those below get better dance partners.” Grace answered, before she suddenly sped up and fired five arrows in the blink of an eye, downing two enemies and making the rest of a fresh group scramble for cover. “Still, we're sure to-” she began, but was interrupted by a veritable thunderclap of sound as a part of the yard exploded upward.

They could both sense the silver-ranked deathly aura thrown up along with the debris, as well as the deputy director following it. Most of the thugs below had been knocked off their feet, and a lot of them seemed to be staggering about with ruptured ears. One poor woman was even smashed to the ground by a garden tile which gravity had reclaimed from Rupert’s little geyser of dirt and stone, not getting up from where she had fallen.

The battle between the silver-rankers continued even in the air, flying stones rent apart around them from the swings of a bone sword or slashing sonic waves. This display of force instantly broke the riffraff below, where those who could started scattering.

“Looks like the cleanup teams will get some action.” Grace stated calmly, as she continued her grim work.

Kite and his team rocked back as the silver-ranked explosion tore through the night. In the distance, they could see Rupert rising into the air to engage some unknown enemy, the silver-ranked auras clearly cutting through the chaos of the battle.

“ I believe our service for this night will begin soon. ” Serene said. “I can feel multiple auras moving towards the compound's exterior.” While there was some interference from the greater struggle, she could still get enough glimpses to be forewarned.

Just a few tense seconds later, they could see figures escaping over the low wall surrounding the compound, dark silhouettes that cast long shadows thanks to the many different lanterns which lit up the night. Some still staggered as if dazed as they started fleeing down nearby streets. One group of seven such figures chose the street where Kite and his team were waiting, slowing down slightly when spotting the row of adventurers waiting for them. Their stances were hostile but wary.

“In the name of the city lord and the adventure society, lay down your arms and surrender!" Will stated loudly as he took a step forward, brandishing a spear in a proud pose. “Otherwise, prepare to face the wrath of my Heavenly shaft! ”

Some of the approaching thugs halted a little at that, confusion evident on their faces. Most, either unfazed or simply not stopping to comprehend the command, continued onward. One of the men running in the back of the group gave off a shout as he launched bolts of lightning towards the proud spearman. Will almost casually brought up a wall of conjured spears which absorbed the fired bolts, crackling electricity arcing between the many tips as it dispersed the attack.

“ I see." he said, failing to sound entirely disappointed. Then, at an aura signal from Serene, he launched himself at the approaching thugs along with Dragonfly. Will closed the distance carried by the same wave of spears on which he had made his entrance back at the palace, while Dragonfly did her usual leaping initiation of a battle. Kite brought up the rear, advancing at a steady pace. His throwing star was already darting towards their enemies, targeting those on which he saw active enchantments or boons through his magical vision.

Being actively able to easily discern if an enemy had active magical effects or not was a massive boon to Kite as it helped immensely with prioritizing targets. The enchanted star ricocheted between two opponents, dispersing a summoned bow as well as negating an activated burst of speed. He did not join his companions immediately in the melee, instead hanging back to continue harassing opponents with the thrown weapon and gaining a feel for the brawl and where he would need to step in first.

From their opponent’s ill-controlled auras and their lack of cohesion and discipline, Kite thought that Will and Dragonfly should be able to handle the up-close part of things through overwhelming force and initiative. This was one of the reasons he hung back, acting as a flexible response rather than engaging immediately himself.

The group's training beneath instructor Concente had not gone on for long, but positioning and different ways of engaging a threat had been the first thing she started teaching them. Kite's flexibility and partially defensive role gave him the choice of being more reactive when facing multiple enemies, especially in situations where the battle was more complex. This was one of those, where their enemies had a different agenda than the team, seeking to escape rather than outright battle.

This mentality fit Kite rather well and paid off quickly as two of their opponents, who weren't immediately caught up in the whirlwind of violence named Will and Dragonfly, made a break past them in an attempt to flee into the dark streets of the city. Initially, Kite continued acting as if he were focused on the melee going down in front of him, instead tracking them through his activated perception power.

Just after they had passed him by, he snuffed out their hope of an easy escape through a chanted spell.

"Wall."

As the wall of force sprang up in front of them, it became clear that one of the would-be escapees was more prepared than the other. The elven woman with the hard look in her eyes managed to halt her momentum in time, instead kicking off the wall to change direction. Her companion, meanwhile, crashed almost head first into the sheet of force at a full sprint, tumbling to the ground in a heap.

Kite had already turned and was advancing to meet the more adept opponent, who was currently flying towards him in a leaping kick, in a bid to reach the other side of the street not blocked off by his barrier. The head of a flaming snake sprung from her back as she closed the distance, extending down to bite at Kite at the same time.

He lashed upward with his left hand in a backhanded counter, the snake dissolving before managing to sink its fiery fangs into him as the dispelling counter took effect]. At the same time, Kite's metal staff appeared in his right hand as its top was thrust straight into her stomach. Being an iron-ranker, she still very much depended on having lungs, and the air forcefully being knocked from them through an impact of both her own momentum and Kite's applied force seemed to be too much even for her increased resilience to simply shake off.

Taking advantage of her winded state, he took the opportunity to topple her into his wall of force, the contact continuously draining the elf’s mana as he kept using the staff to keep her pinned. She did try to fight back through fits of coughing, but said spasms made it harder to chant any coherent spells. After a short struggle, where Kite continuously drained her mana while battering her with blows, she fell limp to the ground.

As his expanded vision told him that things were well in hand where his companions fought, he took the time to produce a suppression collar which he clipped onto the woman's neck, repeating the process with her knocked out companion. Each of the participants in the night's raid had received a pair of collars in case of the possibility of prisoners, but they all knew that fights between essence-users of iron rank had a higher chance of being lethal as their bodies did not have the absurd amount of resilience brought on by higher rank.

Kite was somewhat of an anomaly in this regard, as his path lent itself surprisingly well to taking people alive. Battered, but alive.

His short exchange with the woman had also driven home one of the points which uncle Walker had drilled into him during mobility training while he grew up; be very careful when leaping in combat. Unless you had a means to change your direction mid-flight or other similar tricks, you essentially told your opponents where you would be in a few moments and left you without the possibility to dodge or use leverage in your defense.

One of the opponents facing Dragonfly and Will, the only one that was still standing, tried for a desperate escape by launching himself towards a nearby rooftop with the help of a conjured vine. Even before any of Kite’s close combat companions had the chance to pursue, a sudden and directed gust of wind knocked him back towards the street and his demise. Serene had been a constant presence during the fight, especially on the aura level as she was the bulwark which amplified the whole group's aura powers to new heights as they overlapped one another. This was on top of the small healing spells and gusts of winds she had been continuously using to throw foes off balance.

The wind spell closed out the skirmish as the last opponent fell, the group gathering as Kite put manacles on their two prisoners in addition to the collars.

“Dragonfly, drag these two off to the side where we won't step on them.” Instructor Concente said as she joined them. “This evening isn't over yet." she finished with a meaningful look towards the silver ranked battle still going on in the distance.

Jarmiel had caught up to the messenger, escaping the chaos of the adventurers entering the cellar. He still felt bruised from the mere proximity of the initial blast as they had breached their defenses.

“Slag and gravel!" he swore softly, the familiar curse giving a slight pang of homesickness. "I thought these locals would be too caught up in honor to send this kind of overwhelming response. How did they even find us?"

“It is irrelevant.” she responded, voice cold. “You would do best to focus on how to salvage this operation and bring what you can to continue the greater purpose of the sect. And hope that the elders do not decide to punish you too severely." she finished, opening one of the hidden escape tunnels which would lead out through the warehouse.

Jarmiel cursed even harder inwardly. Leaving his future troubles for now, he instead focused on the immediate as he followed her through a partially cracked passage which had apparently been damaged by the high-rank battle going on above.

“I will make my escape and rendezvous with my contacts. We should have enough safe houses left, where I will rally what I can before contacting the sect." he said as they reached the hatch which marked the end of the small tunnel.

As they emerged, the messenger did not even deign him with another glance before a pair of insect wings sprouted from her body and she took to the sky, staying low above the rooftops to avoid as much attention as possible. Shrouding himself in an illusion which made him all but invisible, Jarmiel set off at a run in the same direction, his bronze-ranked body moving swiftly.

He figured that the messenger would know the safest route away from this madness and, getting a vague sense of only a single bronze along some iron-ranked auras from that direction, figure that his illusory invisibility would be more than enough to escape while the adventurer backup was preoccupied with the more mercenary parts of his people.

“Slag it all.” he muttered as he cleared the wall to the compound, feeling sick of complications being drawn to him like flies to a carcass. “At least I’ll be out of immediate trouble now.”