A single sigh was heard in the midst of the battlefield.
The woman clad in full armor and a cloak bearing the symbol of a fox, lowered her bow to the ground.
She had ran out of arrows.
Removing her helmet she rose, revealing long blonde hair and a suntanned face.
Inhaling deeply she spread her arms to either side, letting her helmet drop to the side.
Closing her eyes, everything happened at once. The helmet hit the sand with a soft "thump".
The sound of swords piercing through the vulnerabilities of her armor and right through her.
The air she inhaled being exhaled as she fell to her knees.
And finally, the spasms of a corpse that has not yet realized that it is so.
The morning after, Cadomyr was more lively than usual. Rumors had spread that in the shade of the night, the dead body of none other than the countess had been carried into town, from the battle near Letma.
Though for now they were just rumors, most appeared to have already accepted it as the truth as her usual presence in the town was gone.
Soon enough, parchments of various content would appear. Though most could be summed up by one line:
The desert fox countess, dead!?
Last edited by Annabeth on Sat Apr 16, 2016 11:12 pm, edited 1 time in total.
An armored, emerald-scaled lizard rushes through town with a crimson cloak flapping, trying to keep up with him. With a heavy breath and pleading touches on the locals' shoulders the lizard inquires:
"What iss thiss rumor I hear!? Hass anyone actually sseen the body? Where iss it!?"
The lizard doesn't stay to wait for answers but runs directly to the palace, to the Queen's Chancellor Anthar Vilicon, and asks him the same question while momentarily forgetting to address the Chancellor with his usual respect and calm demeanor.
The lizard soon walks out of the palace with an intense stare upon the street ahead of him.
As the sun faded behind the horizon, it bathed the desert in the warmest of lights. And under a distant glimmer over sand and water, the dying light bid Cadomyr farewell.
A cool breeze from the ocean accompanied Tyan from the teleporter to the city gates of the desert fortress. The area began to cool down already, but the yellow sandstone of Cadomyr would preserve the heat of the sun throughout the night. Between midnight and dawn, if you walked them bare footed, the city streets of Cadomyr felt just like the bathouses of Salkamar with underfloor heating, a trend that came from ancient times but was spreading to Albar as well. Alas, building something like that took masterful craftsmanship, a functioning aqueduct system and slaves or servants constantly keeping big fires alive in the cellars. During Cadomyrian nights, one could get all that for free.
Every place had its ups and downs. As had times, and people.
Tyan followed the streets towards the market. He must have still looked half a ruffian, with his hair and beard longer than usual, and the occasional bruise on the exposed parts of his skin. Mercenary work had been tough, but then again, not too different from what awaited people around Illarion.
The marketplace was buzzing with caravan folk and other people. In Galmair and Runewick, one would expect the masses at noon, but Cadomyr's climate had people come out at other times. Deals were made in the early morning, or shortly before night came.
He heard the rumors amongst the market rabble. He even picked up one of the various parchments. He took the rumors with so little concern he was startled by his own reaction to them. But then, they were only rumors.
The rest of the day was fighting, more or less successful, and meeting old friends. A good day in Tyan's books. Talk became rather serious every now and then, but Tyan woudn't have it. For where was the point in fighting the great evils without enjoying the life they were aiming to destroy?
"I want you to undersstand that there iss almosst no chance that I will have the sslightesst pity on you on thiss", the lizardman hissed.
"That's good, Sirrt, because neither do I want any pity, nor do I deserve any. And should I have ever given the inclination that I do, well, I didn't mean it", Tyan answered, in the lofty bardic tone he liked so much, but ever so often wondered what its point was.
Later that night, he left a new building he knew all too well and his hands were empty, just as they had always been. He walked past the workshop, witnissing a glassblower working late. He was stoking the fire, cursing the oven for it was going through combustible material too fast.
Confronted with the rumors again, Tyan couldn't help but think – he had to see life as whole, meaning to see it as a mortal. He was going to die, everyone was going to die. How else could we love each other, how else could we be friends? Just like the fire in the oven. It was going to gut out, what else would keep it blazing.
The crimson-cloaked lizard sits at a table of the newly built headquarters for House of the Desert Fox, one of Countess Annabeth's latest achievements.
With dreary eyes and a heavy head to stares at a small note on the table. Beside him there is another parchment, with wax but no seal,which he also spares a glance for. Eventually the lizard wipes over his face with his palm and takes up some writing tools.
Azure apon hearing the rumors finally confronted sir s'rrt. The lizardman couldn't confirm or deny these rumors. But decided to live and work as if she was alive until he discovered otherwise. Azure agreed with this and continued with his duties. Azure thinks first kreax hasn't been seen for awhile now annabeth is rumored to be dead. This both a good and bad thing azure thinks. I need to keep moving up in rank he tells himself. I will become a noble of cadomyr and then I know my family will be protected. After azure reports his findings back to s'rrt he heads to check on his family.
The confusion had finally ended but it didn't make things any better for the crimson-cloaked lizard.
Barely able to write up an announcement of the memorial service, the lizard spent a long while inside the headquarters of the House Desert Fox, which was also home to the late Countess. He was looking for more clues to help him understand what circumstances could possibly have lead to the grim inevitability of her passing away, not fully content with the proof he already had though it was definitive. Some could argue it wasn't definitive but it didn't matter to him. All that mattered was the fact that she is now gone.
Perhaps the memorial service will offer him tranquility, a chance to re-focus in this place of fluctuating power and population, and the looming undead invasion.
"Once again I'm left standing at the top where others have left or fallen", he thought. "I have to go on to do what I can and not let myself succumb to the same allure of escape."
He pauses in his thoughts, simply muttering the words: "Acceptance.. revolution.. or escape."
