OOC: I apologize for your new lack of internet connection.
Arthur sat up and groaned.
It took a few minutes before he realized what a miracle that was.
"Ah, you're awake. Welcome back to Castle Bric'bay."
The once-mage looks around at the cold, gray interior of the room warmed only by candlelight and the wood tones of the furniture around him. This particular room was rather sparse--just a bed, a chandelier, a small side table with a water pitcher, and what little daylight was let in by the arrow-loops in the wall. Luke moves to the side of the bed, staff in hand, his palm glowing with healing energy.
"You've been unconscious for the past three days. There were some people looking for you, but Lord Knyghton sent them away, gave them some story about going off to sea. I spent that time--and quite a lot of Ether--trying to heal you of...that."
Arthur had thrown back the covers and tried to stand, but the moment he let his leg off the bed it oozed onto the floor. For the first time he noticed the bedsheets stained black with ink, and he looks to Luke, his expression both apologetic and horrified.
"It's all right--you're clearly sick. You were worse before, but the healing seems to have..." Luke trails off as he sees the ex-human's leg solidify, then liquefy, then solidify, then turn back to ink before finally coalescing into its original, humanlike form. Arthur tests it gently before putting his weight on it.
"Arthur, I'm not sure that's--."
Luke's protest is cut off as the former Mystic Knight suddenly rises to his feet, apparently fine.
"Are you...are you sure you can maintain...?"
Arthur opens his mouth to reply, but as soon as he does he grows shorter by an inch. He looks down, renewing his concentration, and he returns to his normal height. It's only then that he notices the third occupant of the room.
"Good. Tha's a lot better than I though' ya'd do. I'd hoped ye'd be able ta tell us abou' wha' happened, but I'll settle fer havin' ya alive." He pauses, looking out the arrow loops to the forest below. "I'd send someone ta tha Heroica Library, but given our visitors, I'm guessin' tha'd be a bad idea." He looks to Luke. "I want him ready for trainin' in four days. I don' think we can hide 'im much longer'n tha', an' I'll be sending Admiral Thraune out with a bunch o' new troops ta 'hunt down' tha' so-called 'monster' in two week's time. I want him on that ship." He looks with concern to Arthur. "Ya think ya can handle tha'?"
After some hesitation, Arthur nods. Knyghton does the same.
"Then I'll leave ya an' Luke to it."
The rehabilitation process was torture. There was no other word for it--having to re-learn not only how to walk and move and hold a pen, but having to learn so with the added complication of holding one's entire body together was a physical and emotional struggle. By the end of four days, Arthur had once again learned many of his basic physical skills, but his effortless agility and athleticism--that was all gone. He could barely even speak--even now, after rigorous practice and devoted care from Luke, any attempt would result in lack of cohesion, save in those rare moments when, in utter stillness, he could divide his attention enough to carry on a short conversation. By the fourth evening, he managed to utter a full paragraph. It would have to be enough--his training began at dawn.
At the break of dawn, the regiment stood outside the gates of Bric'bay, awaiting their new instructor. Arthur, like many of the recruits, was nervous; he knew he could pass for normal in the everyday, but in combat? The risks were great, but if he wanted to ever return to his normal life, he'd have to do his best to run the course.
The Skirmishers' commander arrives.
"Listen up, soldiers! You know who I am, so there's no need for introductions. Lord Knyghton needs something done, and as of today you stand amongst the best we have." Three Skirmishers near the back of the formation exchange glances, but only Arthur makes note. "I have just twelve days to get you into shape. You're going to take half that time. Form up!"
Moving as one--or rather, attempting to move as one--the amassed Skirmishers form a single line, before dividing slightly into groups of ten. Whether by chance or design, Arthur finds himself in the same unit as the three from earlier. His attention is quickly diverted back to the front by Leofard's barking command.
"Children! I know you're better than that! Again!"
The soldiers return to their earlier positions, then repeat the same drill they had earlier, this time a fraction more in sync. They repeat again, and again, and again, slowly learning the rhythms of their fellow Skirmishers. Through it all, Arthur remains in the same group as the others, but quickly learns to ignore the fact and focus on the rigorous execution of unison. By the time the sun reached its apex the groups had managed to enter and break formation more or less in unison, though their actual movements and stance in formation were still far from precise. Of all the units in the training, Arthur's had fared best--not by his own efforts, but by the flawless display of synchronicity the Skirmisher trio exhibited towards the end of the session. From what Arthur could tell, they'd clearly been holding back until now, but of course he had no way--nor reason--to point this out to anyone. Sir Leofard strides over and stands before the unit, the other Skirmishers watching them attentively, expecting a delivery of praise for their exemplary performance.
"Sloppy!" Leofard waits for the ripple of surprise to pass through the amassed soldiers before continuing, staring right at the trio whose efforts had been so precise. "You've matched each other breath for breath, but you've neglected your brothers and sisters. A Skirmisher has no need for personal glory. We stand in solidarity, supporting each other, defending each other and any who need our help."
Solidarity? I can barely manage 'solid'.
As if reading his mind, Leofard glances at Arthur, but he quickly directs his gaze to another rookie soldier in the unit--perhaps having been ordered not to make any mention of Arthur, or perhaps simply following his own espoused position on the role of the job. Either way, the ex-Mage was relieved not to have had any excess attention drawn to him.
"Now, we're going to do this one more time. Form up!"
This time, as the unit stepped forward, something felt different. The warmth of the sun, a gust of wind at their back--or maybe, just maybe, the knowledge of support and shared protection. Whatever the cause, the Hero of Dastan felt an encouragement, the likes of which he hadn't felt before. He'd felt strong, confident, of course, while under the influence of Mead, but somehow this felt different. Purer. Like he had a place in the world, where once he had not. Leofard was talking, and Arthur silenced his wandering mind to pay attention.
"...the feeling of oneness you get as a true Skirmisher. Not about you, but them--us. The Lions support each other--we used to lean on others, but now they may lean on us, as we lean on each other. Divided, we fall--but together, we stand."
Spontaneously, in unison, the entire troop salutes Sir Leofard, standing at perfect attention. The grizzled Knight grins, the first time they'd seen him smile all morning.
"Good. We'll make fighting men of you yet! Now once more--form up!"
That evening, Arthur returned to his room, tired and sore, but fulfilled in a way he hadn't been since his last day with the Watch. As usual, Luke and Lord Knyghton were there to receive him.
"Ya have a good first day out there?"
Arthur nods, before slowly replying. "Tired. Happy."
"Good. I'm glad. Any problems keepin' t'gether?" Arthur shakes his head no. "Excellent. Then there's somethin' we need ta do." He nods to Luke. "Heal 'im."
"Of course."
A pulse of Ether, and Arthur feels refreshed--though still tired. He nods to Knyghton in gratefulness.
"We're goin' ta keep doin' this every night, just ta be safe. Mornin's, too, if ye're in fer a rough day. But we can't keep ya in seclusion, not if ye're goin' ta be a real Skirmisher."
Arthur looks back and forth between his two friends, then shrugs. He nods to let them know of his acceptance, too tired to use words.
"Then I'll see ya t'morrow evenin'. Luke?"
Luke leads Arthur down a long hallway, one of the few he'd seen this visit that had been a part of the original Bric'bay. The castle had undergone a drastic expansion in the past two years, but at its heart remained many elements of the original fort.
"We can't have you sleeping in the barracks, of course, but it's important you spend time with your fellow Skirmishers even outside of training." Luke stops, in front of a door Arthur recognizes as the point of entry for Leorry and the other elven infiltrators back in the day. "Don't let their...casual demeanour fool you--these are our best." Arthur momentarily wonders why, if they were the best, they'd be in training, but before he can ponder further Luke opens the door.
"Ladies, gentleman, this is Arthur. You remember him from this morning?" The trio from earlier murmur their assent, and Luke continues. "Arthur will be staying with you for the rest of your training. I trust you'll help each other along the way." Before any of them can comment further, Luke leaves the room, closing the door on his way out.
After a few moments of silence, the dark-skinned male Skirmisher speaks. "Leon. Leon Kastane." Leon extends a hand, but before Arthur can shake it, the woman with the eye-patch pushes him out of the way, crossing her arms belligerently.
"Oh, for chimera's sake, Leon, I've told you to stop bringing last names into this. Liara," she says by way of introduction. She jerks her head toward the shy-looking girl behind her. "Lilly."
"Hi."
Arthur nods in greeting to each of them, before retreating to the only unoccupied bed in the room. As he goes, Liara tries to engage her fellow Skirmisher in conversation.
"So, Arthur, up for a sparring match?" she asks brusquely--apparently her idea of friendliness. "Moon's bright tonight, should light up the courtyard just fine."
Arthur looks skyward, considering, but then begins to observe his arm. He meets Liara's eyes and shakes his head.
Liara shrugs. "Your loss. We'll be back in a bit." She gestures, and the other two Skirmishers follow her out of the room, leaving Arthur alone with his thoughts.
Sweating with effort, the three Skirmishers rest outside one of the guard towers of the still-in-construction jousting arena. Liara shares a significant glance with each of her compatriots.
"So--thoughts?"
"Hesitant movements, disinterest in fighting, escorted by Master Luke--I'd say he's convalescing, probably from an injury of some sort. Did you see the way he looked at his hand?"
"Agreed. Don't underestimate him, though--he's not up to standards yet, but he's stronger than he looks. Better-trained, too. He's no more rookie than any of us--he's seen action, and a decent amount of it. Question is--why's he with us?"
"No idea--protection, maybe? High value target?"
"Hm. Maybe. Feels like something else, though. New addition to the team?"
"We've always worked better as three, though--unless you're suggesting one of us should leave?" Lilly gives Liara a pointed stare; the latter is forced to look away guiltily before Leon breaks the mood.
"Still think we could take him in a fight, if it came to it."
"Oh, definitely, and not just 'cause he's still weak, either." She glances guiltily back to Lilly. "Anything you'd like to add?"
Lilly shrugs. "I picked up some talk earlier. Apparently Lord Knyghton's got Master Luke on some secret pet project. I'd bet good gold that that guy's it."
"More secret than us...?"
Lilly nods.
"Well, whoever he is, Master Luke asked us to help him out. We should probably assume those orders are straight from Lord Knyghton."
Liara nods in agreement. "Until we hear otherwise. Let's start in the morning."
Well, I never thought I'd see these things again. Funny, though--last time they were on my side. He went to his knees to slide under the spinning blades of the slice-n-dice as Lilly leapt to intercept a hwachaa arrow aimed at his flank. He'd barely conversed with them since they'd returned well past midnight, but already it seemed like they were working with him in greater harmony--and that extended to the other six Skirmishers in their unit as well. As the exercise ended, they ringed their target in a defensive circle, shields up, spears out, each covering the others' weaknesses in perfect unison. Sir Leofard frowned--they were still far too flashy for his taste, it seemed--but even he couldn't deny their effectiveness, nor their unity. Arthur's roommates clearly weren't holding back any longer, and even he had started to gain the confidence to draw a little on his own experience. The other members of the group grinned, thrilled at their increasing prowess, and even the elites of the group had to smile at how well they'd just worked together. At Leofard's grudging nod, the group left the course for the next unit to use, heading for the shade of the trees at the edge of the forest.
As Arthur's group sat down, another figure came to approach Leofard.
"Doin' well, I see."
Leofard nodded. "Much as I hate to admit it, you were right--they're good for each other." He looks to his superior askance. "Any chance of you tellin' me why you've got troops as experienced as them training with rookies? Or why I'm in charge of every single Skirmisher in this place yet I don't even know their names?"
Knyghton returns the glance with a calculating look. "...Nope, no chance of tha latter, I'm afraid." He looks to the sky a moment to consider. "As for tha former--well, like you just said. They're good for each other." Giving his dissatisfied subordinate a clap on the shoulder, Knyghton returns inside to the castle's keep.
"Rough day, huh?"
"Rough few days, you mean," Lilly counters. Liara says nothing, just smiles and keeps laying out her bedroll.
Arthur also smiles, though for a different reason. It had been a full week since he'd last lost cohesion, and today he'd even gotten a few shallow cuts and managed not to bleed. And as he surreptitiously checked his injuries by the lamplight--was it just his imagination, or did his ink have a miniscule hint of red to it? It had been a risk, letting Arthur spend the night out in the field with the other rookies, but to his mind it had paid off.
One Skirmisher surveys Arthur with similar surreptition. "So. Arthur. First time in an army tent, yeah?"
Arthur smiles and nods, which causes Leon to get excited.
"Ooh, it's story time!"
Leon, Liara, and Lilly gather around Arthur, as Liara closes her good eye to begin reciting the tale.
"Once, the lands of Dastan made up two nations: the Kingdom of the Lion, and the Empire of the Dragon. The Empire was the larger of the two, and its people were famed breeders of dragons. The Kingdom, in stark contrast, was composed of peasants, experts in agriculture, but not in the art of war. Through a series of border skirmishes, the dragon riders of the Empire had driven the Lions back to the arid mountains of Northern Dastan.
"Magical talent was rare in the Kingdom of the Lion, so most of the peasants dismissed the work of mages as folly. But when one of the mages, striving to transform readily available Mopag Torturous Fruit into a suitable replacement for applesauce and sausages, accidentally created a beast of myth - a chimera - word got around quickly.
"Raising an army, the Lion's King marched on the Empire--"
"Excuse me, but I already know this one."
Leon and Lilly stare at Arthur in surprise, and even Liara opens her eye in curiosity. Sensing the others' disbelief, Arthur picks up the tale.
"The Lion King and the mage led an army against the Dastanese, who retaliated with their own knights and dragon-riders. When the king fell, the battle turned into a rout, leading to the fall of the mage followed swiftly by the end of the chimera. The Lion Knights were expelled from Dastan, and the modern Empire of Dastan formed from the pieces."
"Very impressive. But do you know how it ends?"
"Of course. Many, many long years later, a group of rebels sought to reclaim Dastan for the Lions. Meanwhile, a cult of the Chimera, worshipping her as a god, sought to return her to the world. Both were stopped by the combined efforts of three valiant teams of Heroes from Heroica, and they were all wiped out."
"Except the head cultist--he got away. He's been at large to this day."
"No he isn't. His deeds--and more to the point, the Heroes--caught up to him eventually. He met his end. It was...unpleasant." Arthur grimaces at the memory.
Leon and Lilly exchange a glance, all but saying 'news to me'.
Liara's eye narrows. "Yeah, we owe a lot to Heroes, us Lions. In fact, there was a group of them, without whom we wouldn't have Bric'bay today. In fact, one of them--a Mage--happened to share your name."
"I have it on good authority that was one of the ones in Dastan as well. Good guy. A friend of Lord Knyghton's, or so I hear tell."
Arthur shrugs coolly. "I'd like to meet this guy. Sounds like a real hero--not like me. Not like me at all." Yeah, I'd like to meet him. I'd have quite a few things to say if I did.
"You know, for someone who knows so much about Dastan, you know very little about the Heroicans who went there..."
Arthur laughs. "Do I look like a Mage to you? Where's my pointy hat?"
"Well, you have a pointy helmet..."
"Yeah, well that doesn't count."
"All right you two, settle down. It's getting late. We need to be well-rested for our drills tomorrow."
"Sounds good to me," Arthur says, yawning on cue. "G'night, all."
"'Night."
With that, Arthur rolls over, and almost instantly is asleep.
He's the only one.
Outside the tent, there's a fierce conversation in whispers.
"Are you two thinking what I'm thinking?"
"Definitely. He knows way too much, and he's chums with Master Luke and Lord Knyghton. And that would explain why they have us bunk with him--we wouldn't recognize him, since we were...busy...during Bric'bay and didn't make it to Dastan--"
"Don't talk about Dastan. Not now, not ever. Not unless we have to."
"Well, that explains why he's making us go through basic again. I'm not her, Liara, but that's no reason to exclude--"
"Focus, Lilly. What we have are guesses right now. Anyone have any proof?"
Lilly pulls a lump of cloth from her pocket and unfurls a blue hat with white stars. "That proof enough for you?"
"So we've got the legendary Hero of the Lions Arthur Regulus sleeping in our tent. What do we do with that information?"
"Exactly nothing, that's what."
The three Skirmishers huddle up on instinct. Even after recognizing their commander, they do not stand down.
"Why."
"I've been asking the same question about you three for nearly two weeks. The presence of Arthur Regulus in this camp is essentially a state secret. I don't know how you three managed to figure it out, but I can guess. Unless you're willing to tell me?"
"...Classified."
"Well, there you go, then. Same thing Lord Knyghton's been telling me. Now I don't know what game he's playing, and frankly it's not my job to know. So I suggest we all stop poking our noses in where they don't belong and go back to bed. Agreed?"
Liara slowly nods, but it isn't until Leofard has walked away and disappeared around a line of tents that the trio finally lower their weapons. With a series of shared glances, they all return to the tent, and an uneasy rest.
Shhhnkt! Shhhnkt! Shhhnkt!
The sound of spear into wood filled the courtyard as storm clouds roiled across the sky. It hadn't started to rain yet, but the distant rumble over the horizon all but proved its inevitability. Arthur and the other Skirmishers trained in silence, apparently having nothing of import to say. It had been unusually quiet ever since that night in the tents, and though they still functioned flawlessly as a unit, he couldn't help but notice something felt different. Turning his focus back to the task at hand, he rushed forward in line with the others, hurling his trident at the target with all his skill and might.
Shhrunkt-crack! Clang! The sharpened weapon reduced the wooden circle to splinters and fell with a clatter. Whoops. Leofard wouldn't be happy--yep, there was the withering look of resigned exasperation. Arthur sighed. Still, Leofard said nothing, which was an improvement over a few days ago.
Wheeling with the rest of his unit, Arthur returned to the line of weapons behind him, grabbing his Spider Leg spear from his pack. Liara and Leon shared a glance at his choice, but he ignored it. Their next target was airborne, and the leg's unusual shape would vastly improve its striking power. Sure enough, the sharpened leg cleaved through the thrown plates, imbedding itself precisely in the center of the wooden target behind them. He allowed himself a small smile, but his mood dimmed when he noticed a few of the other Skirmishers in his unit staring at him.
When he returned to the packs for the third time, Leofard was waiting for him. The Lion general put up a hand to hold Arthur back, while waving the others through.
"On with you--you too, Karan, Kalem." He waited for the rest of the unit to return to the range before speaking to Arthur in a low voice. "Regulus. You're thinking like a Hero, not a soldier. It's not about hitting the hardest, it's about forming synergy with the others' attacks, so they'll benefit from your solidarity in either row. The actual ranged attacks...they're inconsequential--it's the unity of action that matters."
Arthur nods. "The unity feels a little off today, it seems."
Leofard looks to the three Skirmishers and sighs. "I know. I'll speak to Lord Knyghton about it." He reaches into Arthur pack and unhooks his halberd. "In the meantime--stick to this one. The Duplovians make fine soldiers, and they make fine weapons for those soldiers as well. There'll be few surprises with this weapon--alright?"
Arthur nods and takes the weapon, and Leofard walks away, into the castle.
The final day of training had come and gone, and now Arthur stood with his unit at the docks, waiting for Admiral Thraune's announcement that the preparations for them to board the Chimaera and the other ships of the fleet were complete. He stood at the center of the group, with Leon, Lilly, and Liara surrounding him and the other six Skirmishers ringing the outside. The whispers the latter exchanged all but told him the formation wasn't coincidental. They either know, or suspect. I wish they didn't. I'm just a man--less than that, even. I just want to be a good soldier, like them--is that too much to ask?
As the troops waited, Arthur spotted Lord Knyghton walk out and stand by the doorway back inside the castle, a sealed scroll in his hand. He raises his hand in gesture, and Liara, Leon, and Lilly exchange confused glances.
"That's our cue...sorry. Best of luck to the rest of you."
She and Leon leave, heading for Knyghton, but Lilly delays, glancing around surreptitiously before leaning over to whisper in Arthur's ear.
"It's been an honor, Master Regulus." After a moment's hesitation, she gives him a quick peck on the cheek, before she, too is gone.
Arthur raises a hand to his cheek, confused. What was that all about? he wondered.
He didn't have long to consider, though, for soon Sir Leofard took to the top of the ramp.
"All right, men, this is it. Your training is complete--you're all proud, professional Skirmishers. There's little more I can do for you--but your work is not over!"
"Training, no matter how thorough, is no match for experience. Lord Knyghton is dispatching Admiral Thraune on a mission, and he has requested your assistance. I will not be accompanying you, so since he will be delivering your orders for this mission, I turn you over to Admiral Thraune."
"Thank you, Sir Leofard. We've been receiving reports from trade vessels of strange activity along the lanes between us and the Empire of Dastan--specifically, reports of strange visions and monsters, followed by the disappearance of our cargo. Given that the reports mention supernatural activity rather than hostile ships, we suspect the work of a small crew of pirates, likely lightly armed, using trickery and superstition to avoid combat they'd otherwise be unequipped for. I don't need to tell you how vital this route is for our livelihood, which is why I'm leading this mission personally. Your mission, if we are attacked, is to hold the line and apprehend the intruders. Until then, you'll continue your training as you did under Sir Leofard. Understood?"
The soldiers responded with a simultaneous salute in acknowledgement, and Admiral Thraune's crew began directing the troops onto the ships. As Arthur's unit, one the last aboard the Chimaera itself, walked up the gangplank, Admiral Thraune acknowledged them with a nod before pulling one of the Skirmishers aside, waving the rest on.
"Mr. Kobb, was it?"
"Yes, sir."
"Sir Leofard tells me you're in Arthur's regiment."
"Yes, sir." He pauses, then hesitantly adds, "Arthur Regulus' unit, sir?"
The Admiral slowly, reluctantly nods. "Tell the rest of your unit to keep an eye on him. Lord Knyghton wants him back in one piece. And for heavens' sake, don't make a show of him! Too many people know as it is."
"Of course, sir." He starts to turn away, but then turns back. "Permission to speak freely, sir?"
"...Granted."
"With all respect, he's one of us, sir. Looking out for each other...it's what we do."
Admiral Thraune nods, satisfied. "Very good. On your way then."
Out at sea once again, Arthur thought to himself, bemused. Of the Skirmishers aboard the Chimaera, perhaps a third had sailed at all, and half that more than once. Certainly none of them had been aboard the fleet's flagship--save for Arthur himself, of course. His familiarity with the ever-shifting environment left him one of the better soldiers in training exercises, though he was careful not to let it show. He did his best to teach his fellow Skirmishers the ropes, and by three days out from Bric'bay, most of the Skirmishers had attained, if not excellence, at least competence atop the waves. He didn't know how much they suspected of his true identity, but by now he didn't care; out here, it didn't seem to matter who he was or what he'd done, he was simply "one of the boys".
But a past cannot be escaped forever, and on the fourth night Arthur would face his reckoning.
It was nearing midnight, and Arthur's unit was preparing to take watch. They numbered fewer than their counterparts, what with the sudden departure of Leon, Lilly, and Liara back at the docks, but they'd stepped up their vigilance to compensate. It was this, perhaps, that prompted one of the Skirmishers to notice Arthur's sudden shiver.
"Something wrong, Arthur?"
"No, it's just...it's nothing. A chill brought on by the wind, perhaps."
"Funny...there doesn't seem to be any wind tonight."
It took them a few moments to realize the implications of that statement.
"Get Admiral Thraune."
"Already on it."
Just then, the boat rocked, and they all knew they'd found what they'd been looking for.
"Signal the fleet, prepare to repel boarders--"
Then, seemingly out of nowhere, they caught sight of their foes, arrayed atop the shipboard railings, and Arthur knew the source of his chill.
"No..."
"Chaos Beasts!"
"To arms, men!"
And the time for words was over. Fast and hard the creatures struck, but again and again the Lions repelled their blows. The beings of Chaos struggled against these forces of Order, but neither side gained ground. Blood and ink spattered the deck and those upon it, running together beneath the feet of the combatants until it was impossible to tell which was which. The fight raged on, and on, and on, until even Arthur despaired of ever beating their foes.
Was this it? After coming all this way, was his only option to unleash his Chaotic power, to sacrifice all he'd achieved so far? It would be so easy just to transform, to vanquish his opponents...his bretheren.
"Arthur!"
The admiral's sharp voice broke the onetime-Chaomancer from his reverie.
"You've fought these before. Can we beat them?"
A long moment's thought, and then a nod. Yes. They could do this--together. If just a few Heroes could defeat Wren, Queen of Chaos, then what hope did these feeble creatures stand against the full might of the Lion Skirmishers.
"Yes," he answered, "but only in unity."
"Good thing that's what we do best." He raises his voice, letting Arthur's shield defend him from the creatures' onslaught. "Men! This is Arthur Regulus, of Heroica, Hero of Dastan and of the Lions!" He gives Arthur a reassuring nod. "He's faced these beasts before. Follow his lead!"
With a deafening cheer, the Lions roared their encouragement. With bolstered spirits, Arthur raises his trident, watching his comrades do the same, and with a mighty heave launched the tri-pronged spear at the nearest beast. Skewered through the chest, the creature stumbles a step back, then staggers towards Arthur--only to be met by dozens more. The tide turned, waves of pole-arms, thrown in perfect unison, demolish the dark beings--not a single one manages to escape to the safety of the ocean below.
Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur spots a single ship slip away into the mist, but before he can inform his superior something else catches his attention.
A group of Skirmishers--Arthur recognizes them as his own unit--surrounds the pulsing black orb, spears pointed straight at it. Admiral Thraune makes his way past the line, kneeling down to observe it.
"Now what do we have here...?"
Arthur rushes to his current commanding officer. "Admiral Thraune!"
"Hm? Yes, Arthur?"
Arthur holds out his hand. "Allow me."
With some reluctance, the aged admiral nods. "All right, then."
Arthur stands before the Zoot's Plaything, undaunted, unafraid. He hears its voice calling to him--the voice of one that was him, that drew every fiber of his being...
It was time. Time to do what I should have done the first time I saw one of these...
--squish--
"So tha's it, then?"
The Skirmisher nods. "I have no clue who summoned them, or why, but after that display of Orderly might I doubt they'll be preying upon Lion ships in the near future."
"I'm glad to hear there weren't any...permanent consequences."
Arthur smiles, genuinely. "Me, too."
"I hate to bring everyone down, but after that flashy show, no one in the ranks is going to be fooled anymore. An entirely new set of Lions are going to know your face, your name--not to mention your latest set of deeds."
"So much fer tha quiet life," Knyghton remarks wryly.
Arthur's countenance falls. "Unfortunately. I don't know where I'll go, now. I've no desire to be a celebrity."
"Could've fooled me, Leofard grumbles. Knyghton silences him with a look.
"Arthur. I think you know where you have to go. Remember what I told you, when we parted after Dastan?"
"'Remember to find the enjoyment from the things that you gladly do and set your mind to accomplish the tasks that are pains for you.'"
"And where have you found the most enjoyment in this world?"
"..."
Luke and Knyghton nod knowingly.
"You're welcome back any time. I daresay tha guards at tha gate'll know to let ya in."
"Fare well...Hero."
Arthur Justus Regulus VII, a Hero Who Is Actually Worth Something (played by Flipz), Level 31 Skirmisher, 22-year-old male Human *Immune to Fragile and all Poisons* *Only Receives One Negative Effect At A Time*
Power: 43 (31 + WP:12)
Health: 54/54 (Basic Health: 5 + Level Bonus: 30 + Class Boost: 15 + Permanent Boost: 4*)
Ether: 36/36 (Basic Ether: 5 + Level Bonus: 30)
Defense: 20 (Arm Shield: 14 + Duke's Coat-of-Arms: 5 + Unicorn Helmet: 1)
Gold: 138 (Owed 128 gold by Boomingham)
Equipment: Gladiator Trident (WP: 11, Spear, causes bleeding effect), Arm Shield (SP:14), Overkill Gloves (Gives the wearer 1 gold for every point of damage they do extra when they defeat an enemy. (Example: Enemy has 50 HP left, you do 75 damage, you earn 25 gold.)), Duke's Coat-of-Arms (Protects against Fragile and all Poisons, SP; 5, suitable for knights, dragoons, skirmishers and regulators; bodywear), Unicorn Helmet (SP:1; the wearer can only receive one negative effect at a time, with a new effect replacing the old one; usable by barbarians, knights, dragoons, infiltrators, regulators, skirmishers, and winged warriors; headwear), Zap-Tap Badge (Artefact, Accessory. Has a 1/2 chance to deal Electric damage to an opponent who has dealt damage to a hero, equal to the hero's level.)
