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By the sounds of the shouting and the clash of weapons that trumpeted throughout the square, the message had been received loud and clear. Elias roused himself from his rooftop slumber to peer over the edge and across the great city he once endearingly called home, and instead of the marvelous feat of divine and faithful engineering that was Ravok, all the local boy had eyes for was the battle raging in the streets. Torian had arrived, clad in pride and black steel, and with an army at his back. They were storming the hideout already, Ebonstryfe perhaps fifteen strong assaulting the building with no pretense of stealth or subterfuge about them as they attacked. As Elias watched the mercenaries retaliate from the windows and ledges with crossbow bolts and harsh words for their attackers down below, he wondered if his father had even considered coming alone. Had the man even for a moment thought perhaps his son was worth the risk? The fact Elias knew that if he was in his father’s position, not only would he have laughed at the idea, he would have also brought more men, made the answer to his own question abundantly clear. Like father, like son…
The thought left the bitter taste of vile in his mouth.
He was surprised to note – his attention simultaneously drawn to an armored soldier in black taking a bolt to the neck- that they hadn't resorted outright to setting the place ablaze and forcing the rats that hid within out onto the streets. Torian no doubt sought answers and relief to the frustrations of his questions, his legion of prisoners all revealing to him what only a decapitated Teagan could. That, or the Paladin simply sought the enjoyment of taking prisoners for the sole sake of what he would relish doing to them later. Elias had never shared his father’s enthusiasm for torture, nor his mother’s knack for subtlety either now that he considered it, but while both of them excelled in the other fields that made the Stryfe and the Sun what they truly were, his own exploits had always really been limited to the martial. The sword was his serrated instrument, the fist his key to revealing hidden secrets.
Another man fell to a well-placed bolt from the balconies, this one likely an apprentice by the way he squealed and panicked his way right over the edge of the platform and into the lake. Three years of training and conditioning was meant to weed out such weakness from an initiate, to prepare them wholly and completely for the trials to come with being apprenticed and truly thrown into the thick of it, but then again, training was meant to prepare you for a lot, and it became painfully clear how little life and the service cared how much of that ‘training’ you had when it decided it was time hit you for real right between the eyes.
The sound of a door being shattered and barricades sundered brought his attention back to the skirmish going on. The soldiers finally managed to smash down the only thing keeping them from their prey, and now they were surging in, much to the chagrin of the sell swords awaiting them. Now those men clamored and shouted for their swords instead of the next bolter round. Elias thought he recognized the grey white hair of his father’s head among the small stream of black pouring into the building, but by the time the image crossed his eyes the son was already bounding off the rooftop to the next, his feet taking him fast to the battle. His auristics had told him the Ebonstryfe would find more men lying in wait for them within that three story complex than they were ready for, and with only half as many troops with him, Torian would find he was dealing with more than just a minor pest problem on his hands. Initially Elias hadn't counted on his father bringing so few men considering the trouble these mercenaries had caused him, but as the young man now leaped from rooftop to rooftop towards the fight, he had to wonder what kind of an embarrassment it would be to be forced to requisition so many of his own men –officially or not- for such a trivial and insulting task of dealing with a few thugs who may or may not have just tried to rob your home. An even more unbearable prospect was having to explain that these mere roustabouts now also had your good for nothing coward of a son as show of open defiance and disrespect not only to the Paladin, but for the order he represented.
Elias hoped the shame of it cut as deeply as the blades of the mercenaries did.
By the time the Ravokian had cleared all the houses and offices his legs could carry him over, he was standing atop the next door building adjacent to the one the struggle between soldier and sell sword was waging on in. The brief reprieve had helped immensely to stem the tide of pain his headache put him through every time he used his magic, but now the djed came like instinct, agony or no, flowing into his eyes and showering his senses in a light of surging auras. Immediately his father’s shuddering cloud of blue and red caught his attention among the dozens and dozens of clashing colors. He was moving fast, flying up the stairs with alarming speed and hot on the heels of another Elias didn't recognize. The two came hurtling by the second story window and for a tick the mage caught sight of his father’s face as it braced by. He looked… not angry, but determined. It was a look Elias had been familiar with since his childhood, and the mage did not envy the poor soul Torian pursued. Unconsciously the young man started adjusting his mask before he realized what he was doing and physically made himself stop. I. Am. Not. Afraid of him. Not anymore!
The two auras raced up the short flight of stairs, once trading blows as Torian caught up, but just as quickly disengaging again as they climbed to the third story. Why the Paladin had abandoned the safety of his men’s company as the rest continued their own battles on the first two floors was beyond Elias. Perhaps the one he chased was important enough to warrant such dangerous disregard, maybe their leader even? Well, if his father had hoped for their little foot pursuit to end in a even one on one duel to the death, the man would be sorely mistaken. Awaiting him on the top floor were three more auras, these ones concealed behind the numerous stacks of what Elias had to surmise were crates or the like, though filled with what he had no idea nor any inkling to care. Being so close to the merchant district, it could have been any number of things being stored in there, none of which affected how this day would end however. A bubbling sense of nervousness had begun to creep its way into his mindset as Elias took note of his situation. There would likely be no better time to confront his father than now while he was separated from his men and the bulk of the fighting, but there was still one problem in his way; the roof he was on only reached as high as the second floor.
He was going to have to claw his way up to the top, but first… he had to jump.
The thought left the bitter taste of vile in his mouth.
He was surprised to note – his attention simultaneously drawn to an armored soldier in black taking a bolt to the neck- that they hadn't resorted outright to setting the place ablaze and forcing the rats that hid within out onto the streets. Torian no doubt sought answers and relief to the frustrations of his questions, his legion of prisoners all revealing to him what only a decapitated Teagan could. That, or the Paladin simply sought the enjoyment of taking prisoners for the sole sake of what he would relish doing to them later. Elias had never shared his father’s enthusiasm for torture, nor his mother’s knack for subtlety either now that he considered it, but while both of them excelled in the other fields that made the Stryfe and the Sun what they truly were, his own exploits had always really been limited to the martial. The sword was his serrated instrument, the fist his key to revealing hidden secrets.
Another man fell to a well-placed bolt from the balconies, this one likely an apprentice by the way he squealed and panicked his way right over the edge of the platform and into the lake. Three years of training and conditioning was meant to weed out such weakness from an initiate, to prepare them wholly and completely for the trials to come with being apprenticed and truly thrown into the thick of it, but then again, training was meant to prepare you for a lot, and it became painfully clear how little life and the service cared how much of that ‘training’ you had when it decided it was time hit you for real right between the eyes.
The sound of a door being shattered and barricades sundered brought his attention back to the skirmish going on. The soldiers finally managed to smash down the only thing keeping them from their prey, and now they were surging in, much to the chagrin of the sell swords awaiting them. Now those men clamored and shouted for their swords instead of the next bolter round. Elias thought he recognized the grey white hair of his father’s head among the small stream of black pouring into the building, but by the time the image crossed his eyes the son was already bounding off the rooftop to the next, his feet taking him fast to the battle. His auristics had told him the Ebonstryfe would find more men lying in wait for them within that three story complex than they were ready for, and with only half as many troops with him, Torian would find he was dealing with more than just a minor pest problem on his hands. Initially Elias hadn't counted on his father bringing so few men considering the trouble these mercenaries had caused him, but as the young man now leaped from rooftop to rooftop towards the fight, he had to wonder what kind of an embarrassment it would be to be forced to requisition so many of his own men –officially or not- for such a trivial and insulting task of dealing with a few thugs who may or may not have just tried to rob your home. An even more unbearable prospect was having to explain that these mere roustabouts now also had your good for nothing coward of a son as show of open defiance and disrespect not only to the Paladin, but for the order he represented.
Elias hoped the shame of it cut as deeply as the blades of the mercenaries did.
By the time the Ravokian had cleared all the houses and offices his legs could carry him over, he was standing atop the next door building adjacent to the one the struggle between soldier and sell sword was waging on in. The brief reprieve had helped immensely to stem the tide of pain his headache put him through every time he used his magic, but now the djed came like instinct, agony or no, flowing into his eyes and showering his senses in a light of surging auras. Immediately his father’s shuddering cloud of blue and red caught his attention among the dozens and dozens of clashing colors. He was moving fast, flying up the stairs with alarming speed and hot on the heels of another Elias didn't recognize. The two came hurtling by the second story window and for a tick the mage caught sight of his father’s face as it braced by. He looked… not angry, but determined. It was a look Elias had been familiar with since his childhood, and the mage did not envy the poor soul Torian pursued. Unconsciously the young man started adjusting his mask before he realized what he was doing and physically made himself stop. I. Am. Not. Afraid of him. Not anymore!
The two auras raced up the short flight of stairs, once trading blows as Torian caught up, but just as quickly disengaging again as they climbed to the third story. Why the Paladin had abandoned the safety of his men’s company as the rest continued their own battles on the first two floors was beyond Elias. Perhaps the one he chased was important enough to warrant such dangerous disregard, maybe their leader even? Well, if his father had hoped for their little foot pursuit to end in a even one on one duel to the death, the man would be sorely mistaken. Awaiting him on the top floor were three more auras, these ones concealed behind the numerous stacks of what Elias had to surmise were crates or the like, though filled with what he had no idea nor any inkling to care. Being so close to the merchant district, it could have been any number of things being stored in there, none of which affected how this day would end however. A bubbling sense of nervousness had begun to creep its way into his mindset as Elias took note of his situation. There would likely be no better time to confront his father than now while he was separated from his men and the bulk of the fighting, but there was still one problem in his way; the roof he was on only reached as high as the second floor.
He was going to have to claw his way up to the top, but first… he had to jump.
