Updated! XD
Their journey through the Badlands won't be easy ._.
Lucas has also made his way towards Drew. Now…will they meet? 8D
Replies~
Hornet394: 8D''' I know~ I guess I am too cruel after all, kekeke. Hmm…as a dark magister, there are a lot of things Vankaskan can do I suppose. You shall see how in the next chapter XD don't wanna spoil it for you.
Let it begin.
The sky was hazy, the air heavy with dust and magicks. Steel clouds hang in the sky while a smog-ridden sun poked through the yellow mist.
A river flowed through the rift of the dried, cracked land. The plains was dyed a crimson – that was no ordinary river; a stream of scarlet, its morbid origins from two figures standing on the blood-stained soil.
She couldn't see them clearly through the fog. She shouted for them, but there was no sound – the atmosphere was a complete, dead silence. Both shadowy figures were dripping liquid that contributed to the river – they were both injured, but the victor has yet to be decided. The battle will continue.
Through the thick smog, more forms appeared to join the figure on the right – a battalion immediately changing the course of the battle while the figure on the left stood alone. She couldn't move any muscle and could only watch on helplessly as the two sides clashed. Suddenly the clouds moved and some sunlight peeked through the mist, revealing the face of the lone figure. Cyan blue eyes gleamed through the bloodied face as he fixed his gaze at her.
Rei woke up with a jolt as she found herself covered in cold sweat. She was panting, the nightmare meddling with her mind for a while as she contemplated over the current situation. She looked around – her team-mates were asleep, a small fire burning incessantly under the midnight sky. The plains of the Badlands were vast, a territory of notorious bandits and Skirmishes. The images of the dream were all too real as the young girl inhaled and exhaled to calm herself down.
"Couldn't sleep? It's not your shift yet." A cool voice rang up from beside her as she turned her head to find Evaxus staring at her. Ah, it was his shift tonight. The white-haired boy gazed at her nonchalantly, his usual conceited smirk appearing on his face as he teased her. "Had a nightmare of being attacked by rabbits?" It was his way of showing concern, and she was used to it.
Ignoring him, Rei shifted to his side and lifted his smooth, white hair. "No blood." She mumbled. Then she turned him to his back and poked. Evaxus winced as she accidentally shifted his bandages on the shoulder, but he kept his volume down so as not to disturb his sleeping companions.
"What are you doing, Rei? Has there been too much rabbit meat in your stomach lately that you are thinking of eating dragon meat?" He jested.
Rei sat back, eyes fixed on Evaxus in dead seriousness. She has been noticing it for a while now, and this is the best time to ask.
"Evaxus, I'm not entirely sure about it, and you didn't voice it out to any of us here, so I will ask you secretly." The golden-haired girl asked, green-and-brown eyes meeting cyan blue eyes. Evaxus swallowed his saliva, wondering what the girl would ask. He nodded for her to continue.
"Don't lie to me, Evaxus." Rei took a deep breath. "Those wounds you have obtained from the fight with Wererat…" She remembered how those horrendous wounds that stormy night just disappeared in front of her very eyes, how those gruesome gashes flaked off like crimson snow, in just one night. But these wounds have been there for days, and still there were some rawness remained. It wasn't like a Werelord's healing at all, let alone a Dragonkind. Something was wrong. "Tell me truthfully, Evaxus. Have you…lost your healing powers?"
Evaxus swallowed, but his throat was dry. He coughed slightly, clearing his throat. So, she knew? "Rei…" How should I explain it? He looked at her, the girl's face pouting, and eyes watery.
"I don't know what you have done, Evaxus, but it was that night, isn't it?" Her voice became agitated though she tried to keep the volume down. "I don't know what happened – you have been keeping things from me, that I know. Something happened that night…but all I had were shattered images of that memory." Rei clenched her fist into her tattered cloak. Evaxus' face softened as held her hands, reassuring her.
"Let's just say that it had to be done, and I will regret more so if I never did it – trust me." He grinned mildly. "Even with mortal healing, I won't die so easily, don't worry." He looked at her, steadfast. Rei knew that what has been done cannot be changed – she could only support him, as his sister, as his healer. She nodded. "Oh, and…don't mention any of this to Drew and the rest. They have enough things on their minds already." Evaxus asked with a smile.
"…Alright." Rei answered hesitantly. "But promise me too, don't do anything recklessly." Images from her nightmare still haunted her. That was Evaxus in my dream, alright. It was ominous, and thinking of it still gave her chills. Let's hope that it was just a mere, simple dream.
The young Dragonlord grinned, bright blue eyes glinting in the fire's lights. But he said nothing. Of course it was every warrior's dream to be able to return to their loved ones safely. But making promises about their lives would be….irresponsible – however, for you…
"I will try."
Nearby Vega stirred from his sleep as he grunted. "Evaxus, Rei…? Both of you are up…?" He rubbed his eyes as he woke himself.
"Count Vega, since you are awake, do you mind if you take the shift from here on? It seems that our Werefox is still pretty tired." Evaxus turned to him and smirked, while at the same time signaling to Rei that their conversation was over.
Vega stretched and nodded as the young Dragonlord went back to sleep. Rei grimaced, and went back to her sleep again.
It was a dreamless drift.
They have noticed this group of travelers since they stepped onto the Badlands.
This was their land after all, as they wafted through the shadows, behind the trees and rocks and anything that dotted the landscape, waiting. It was their plains – just how many times have they conducted raids and ambushes such as these, waiting for the weakest point to strike, bringing bands after bands of travelers down? They were waiting, a mob of twenty, slinking in the darkness where the sunlight cannot reach.
This crew, consisting of 3 females and 5 males, was a strange lot. When they had entered the Badlands they were wrapped tightly in cloaks and clothing, understandable as they hailed from the White Peaks. But as time passed, they found some of these persons somehow…familiar. Aye – weren't the burly man an image of the Bearlord of Brackenholme, and the lean young man the Werewolf the entire Realm spoke of? This was good quarry. They might not have precious material possessions for them to loot, but the heads of these Werelords would surely bring much reward indeed.
They waited for days, as a pack of coyotes waited for their prey to weaken – and they found their chance. Their food source had depleted, and days after days in the Badlands had taken a toll on them. Boredom and annoyance brewed amongst them – yes, this was the time.
Dusk, and the shadows armed with blades and steel claws and the likes lunged.
They had split into small groups of 2 or 3, targeting each of the Werelord. They do not brandished silver, but rapid successions of strikes on top of their vicious attacks could easily do the trick – the Skirmishers have relied on their own physical strengths in overcoming wary, unsuspecting Werelords. One of them by the name Karl had led his team in targeting the brown-haired boy, seeing that he was unarmed. Karl stabbed with a two-pronged blade, missing the flesh by mere inches. Cursing, his men aimed at the fatal points, managing to dig one of the claws into the boy's back. The Werelord shouted to his friends, but Karl knew that once they have surrounded their prey, they would never let go. This boy is doomed.
But just as he was about to sink his weapon into the eye socket of the young man, plunging into the brains, he saw grey fur sprouting over the face as the Wolf emerged. Karl has faced many Werelords before, but finding a Werewolf in front of him was more than shocking for him and his men. With a howl, the Werelord snapped the sword-hand in halves, severing it at the elbow. Karl screamed as his forearm hung limb at his side. His men slashed the thick hide of the Wolflord, managing to only open up shallow wounds. Angered and pained by the successive strikes, the Wolf bellowed and lashed out, snapping the necks of his 2 men instantly. Karl backed away, blade in his other good hand, keeping a distance from the yellow eyes which burned into his core. He looked at his fellow bandits – some of the therians were in human forms, parrying the tackles with skilled footwork and weaponry skills. He found a Bear and a horrific Sharkman towering over his comrades… He knew it was over. They had picked the wrong quarry to prey on.
He charged onwards without regards for anything, aiming his weapon at the throat of the grey wolf. But the strike never reached its target as he met head-first with a clawed hand.
Evaxus looked down at his assailants, three bodies with clean sword marks across the neck and the abdomen, as he swung his sword in the air to clean the blood. He looked around; his comrades have taken care of the bandits as well. No doubt, these are the Skirmishes of the Badlands. They had the element of surprise with them, allowing them to inflict several blows on the Dragonlord – Evaxus cursed as he examined his wounds. It was relieving to see that they weren't too deep.
The twenty goons have stained the ground red, and Evaxus shook his head in slight dismay. He heard Drew calling out as the Wolf retracted.
"Everyone alright?"
Evaxus nodded silently as he moved to where Rei was. She was panting from the melee, but her skills have definitely improved from when he first met her. She was shaking at the fact that these were human lives she has just claimed, and he grimaced as he held her close.
"There was no choice." He muttered, Rei nodding hesitantly in his arms.
"Skirmishers." Duke Bergan wheezed as he let the Bear dissolved away. "It seems that the notorious bandits of the Badlands have finally attacked."
"Bet they didn't knew who they were going up against." Whitley laughed.
"Perhaps they did." Vega chimed in. "We're quite famous by now – they'd probably want the bounties on our heads. Alas, they picked the wrong opponents." He wiped the blood off his cutlass and licked his fingers.
"They had picked the right time, though – our food supply is running scarce, and we are tired alright." Gretchen said. "We need to replenish our strength as soon as possible, in case of any more attacks such as these." The Foxlady glanced towards the remains of food in their pouch – three little pieces of wild fowl meat rolled inside the bag. She sighed.
"If there are any rivers nearby, I might be able to catch some fish." Rei said.
Drew nodded. "It is good that our water supply will not pose as a problem, since Evaxus can gather the moisture using his powers."
Evaxus smirked in reply. "We can loot whatever the bandits have for now – soon however, we need to find some settlements that we can get our food from. Such shanty towns should be sparse but common in the Badlands." He tilted his head, glittering blue eyes reflecting the sun. "Just watch your backs."
The group had disguised themselves before entering the town using the garbs of the bandits they had slain, masking whatever features that might attract attention to themselves. Though a group of foreigners appearing in the town is a spectacular sight for the townspeople already.
Most of them have wrapped themselves in large cloaks, covering their faces with make-shift masks made of cloths. Evaxus had stripped a piece of the robe and fashioned it into a bandanna, covering his snow-like hair as much as possible.
Drew and his team walked into an inn, seeing that most of the stores were trashed or closed. The citizens clad in dirty tunics stared at them as they passed, eyes darting across their bodies to search for any coins or jewelry they could possibly get their hands on. Evaxus, with his face hidden beneath a cowl, glanced around with iridescent eyes, noting the fact that most of the townspeople carried hidden weapons.
The innkeeper stood like a statue behind his bar top, as the commuters stopped their activities and looked at the intruders.
"New faces, 'eh? What can I get ya?" The gruff man bellowed, smirking. A gold tooth can be seen from the gaps of his mouth.
"Just some provisions, rations – we will be on our way soon." Drew replied, muscles tensed, ready for anything that could happen.
"Travelers, 'eh? I see. There aren't many people who'd come to te' Badlands, 'eh. Ya know what 'tey call our town?" One of the patrons stood up, grinning, a dagger in his hand. The rest followed, and the leading man hissed. "Vultures' lair. 'Cos you are gunna get pecked clean 'ere, my friends."
The innkeeper seemed to be used to such situations and merely shrugged.
"Stay down, Hosun. No 'un is gunna make a mess in my inn." Upon hearing this, the aggravator named Hosun sneered and stood back down. The other patrons glared at Drew and sat down as well. The innkeeper snorted and walked to the back of his bar. "Just ya wait 'ere, travelers. Foods' comin'."
Drew looked at his team-mates, and they looked back at him, tensed as well. Well, this is the Badlands after all. He shrugged and sat down on an empty table. The rest gathered around him. Soon enough, the fat, jolly barman came back with a sack of dried provisions and a small bag of what seemed to be beer.
"All who came 'thru the door of my ta'ern are welcomed as customers – but don't expect such hospitality elsewhere." He laughed, accepting the payment from Bergan, and walked away.
"Let's go." Gretchen whispered. "I don't like it here."
"I think that goes for all of us." Rei whispered back. They grabbed their food and walked out of the bar. Hastily they made their way across the shambles and the streets, wanting to get out of the town as soon as possible. There were footsteps behind them. No doubt, they were the ones previously from the inn.
"Pursuers." Evaxus said simply, alerting his group. Drew and the rest immediately stopped and turned – true enough, the group of men were sneering at them, led by Hosun in the front.
"You stepped in the wrong town, friends." He barked, revealing a sharp blade. His team of rogues unsheathed their respective weapons as well, edges of sickles and daggers and claws gleamed under the sun. "You ain't got protection from that old fool naw, so give up 'yer money and we will spare 'yer lives."
"We don't want to fight you – just leave us be and we will get on our way." Drew said. "Or else…you might get hurt."
Their assailants looked at each other, scar-ridden faces staring at each other. Some have lost one of their eyes. Then, they laughed.
"Us? Hosun's gang, injured?" Hosun guffawed.
"I don't really want to kill anyone again." Rei whispered. On hearing this, Evaxus turned to the young Werewolf.
"Drew – I have a plan to stop their advances while not taking their lives. Can we lure them further away from their town first?" He glanced around at the townspeople who have gathered nearby to watch the spectacle. Drew looked back, slightly puzzled, but nodded. The rest of the crew caught their conversation and knew what to do. Then, they took off, running into the distance.
"Get them!" Hosun roared as his men charged forward. The pursue continued, pass the streets and stores, and pass the town's rim. The two parties stepped into the plains of the Badlands.
"Far enough?" Drew was panting as he asked Evaxus. The young Dragonlord looked back, noting the foes' number and made sure that there were no other rogues other than Hosun's gang on their tail, and nodded. Immediately, he turned and swung his arm, gathering the moisture in the air using dragon magicks. Before they could react, Hosun and his men were caught in a gigantic ball of ice, frozen in their movements.
If only you could be so powerful, piggy! The vile spoke once again. The rogues reminded him of Ibal and Ringlin, whom he had left behind in Highcliff, waiting for his command. Hector scowled.
"Not bad!" Whitley exclaimed. "How long will it last?"
"They won't die – perhaps suffer a bit from frostbites or hypothermia." Evaxus said matter-of-factly. "The ice will melt once it gets out of my sight, as is all my ice magicks. We should be able to get far away before they could catch up." He laughed. Drew smirked at the sight of the frozen bandits, Hosun's face contorted in mid-air.
"Let's go." Hector said, voice coarse. "Highcliff awaits."
The rest turned towards the young Boarlord and nodded. Only Count Vega remained skeptical about the magister, remembering the encounter with Vincent in the mansion.
The boy clad in black walked on.
"The Badlands…" Prince Lucas murmured as he looked out of his window. "Halt!"
The caravans stopped as he moved out of his suite. The horses stomped and snorted, and the young Lion snarled. Swiftly he walked to the caravan where the magister resided.
"Your Highness, what is it that bothers you?" The Wererat exited his stall and greeted Lucas.
"Vankaskan, we have moved out of the Great West Road and into the Badlands. But in this place so vast, how do you think we will find the wretched Dragon?" Lucas grumbled, noting that there weren't much time left. If he failed this mission, his throne would be in danger. The Wolf's followers could revolt with the Dragonlord's powers – and what would he do when it happens? No, he wouldn't let it happen in the first place – but now, he was doubtful.
"My Lord, please do not trouble yourself with this matter. Like I said, the vial of Dragon blood work wonders – the legend that says 'a drop of Dragon blood turned skin to scales and fists to claws' were nonsense. However, it does resonate with the blood of another Dragon. We are on the right path – this magical liquid is leading us to the last Dragonlord, Prince Lucas." Vankaskan grinned and licked his teeth. Lucas looked at him – the dark magistry that have surrounded his magister have both intrigued and frightened him. He waved his arm nonchalantly.
"If that is so, that good." His tone was flat – the pressure from the other Catlords have certainly taken a toll on him – as he returned to the carriage. The Wererat grinned and went back to his enclosure shrouded in darkness. In the shadows, the dark-red liquid glowed with a haunting red, as if it was pulsating with a heart.
He smirked. "Soon, young Dragon….I will take most pleasure in your face of despair."
The first sight of the Lion's caravan was more surreal than fearful for Drew as he spotted the white carriages trotting across the plains. It didn't take long for him to wonder if that was a merchant's or an ambassador's cart when the Lion's crest gleamed brightly under the morning sun.
There had been rain in the past few days, and the air was hazy and thick. The marching party had seemed to materialize from the mist like a specter. Like a ghastly lion's pride, the Lionguards marched on. There were three carriages Drew had spotted, the middle one white and golden while the surrounding two black like nights. Instincts told Drew that this was the band of the Werelion himself.
Thunders in the distance loomed, as if there were great doors opening from far away. Drew looked around, finding each and every of his comrade – Duke Bergan, Count Vega, Gretchen, Whiteley, Hector, Evaxus and Rei standing ready, guards up.
"Lion and Rat…" He heard Evaxus muttering under his breath, low growls resonating with the thunders.
The wind blew, sending sands and dried leaves into the air. The atmosphere was thick and suffocating with tension. Soon enough, the marching stopped, and from the white caravan came a young man with golden mane, not older than Drew himself. Prince Lucas was shaking, not with nervousness but with excitement of the hunt, as he drew his sword, pointing at the Werewolf.
"I've finally found you, Drew!" He shouted into the distance, across the plains and the rift of battle. While he spoke, Vankaskan walked out from his carriage as well, grinning as he caressed a small bottle of red liquid. The horses were snorting with anxiety, and the Lionguards assembled in a battalion. It was an inevitable battle.
"So, we meet again, Dragonlord." The Wererat snickered.
"Vankaskan…" Evaxus growled.
"What makes you travel all the way here from your seat, huh?" Duke Bergan roared. "Lucas! Don't step further out into this path – call back your guards and those Catlords, and leave Highcliff!"
Drew looked on at his half-brother, thinking back on his fight with him and Leopold. He thought of Mack Ferran, who has sacrificed himself to save his life. He will not let them down.
"Lucas, you came here today to ask for defeat, and defeat only!" Drew howled, tinges of the Wolf surfacing as his eyes turned yellow. Lucas snarled at the taunt across the field and roared back, letting the Lion slipped through. His canines lengthened, and his hair grew longer and thicker.
"Drew – let us end this once and for all! I shall bring your head back to the Highcliff, and hang it on the wall where everyone will see!" He exclaimed, wanting to charge forward. But his magister pulled him back, shaking his head at him.
"Wait for my plan, my Lord."
Lucas looked back, anger in his eyes. But he stopped in his tracks, understanding the situation. This was a battle for him to end, but not for him to begin. The Wererat smirked at him, pointed fangs protruding from his gums as he turned to face Drew and the rest.
"You made your first mistake as a whelp by letting me go, Dragon!" He shouted into the distance, targeting at Evaxus. "Now, you pay that price – I am waiting, Evaxus. Feel it, Dragon, feel the despair that has besieged your kinds 50 years ago!" He waved for the Lionguards to carry a dark red chest out of the third caravan.
What is he trying to pull?
Evaxus glared back, blue eyes teeming with rage. He suddenly thought of the Tyr Terak 50 years back, when the Catlords stormed Ziroga and took out all of the Dragonlords. He thought of his mother, dying under the blade of a Werelynx. And he thought of his father, dying, drenched in blood, on the battlefield. He unsheathed his sword and a coat of frost appeared on Rimetalon. The temperature of the air around him dropped.
"Bring it on, Rat! I will avenge all of my kins, and the Wolf shall sit on the throne of the Seven Realms once more!"
The prophecy, it is now. Hector thought, fist clenching into his black glove. The Vincent-vile drifted around him, energized and alert at the incoming battle. He picked out his scroll hastily and scanned through the lines. Yes, it is perfect.
The land shook with battles
Once more the beasts roared
Allegiance sworn, blood-kins dying in one another's blood
Wolf, Lion, Dragon, and Skull.
End this war once and for all.
Who shall live, who shall die?
What I do not understand is 'Skull'. I shall see what undeads my former master will bring forth – this could be interesting.
For his friend Drew, the young Boarlord was determined to fight – but with what? He could use his limited dark magistry, but he would need a dead body to fight for him. And thinking of the incident with the Wylderman shaman….he shivered at the thought.
The Wereshark was amused, more so than anxious. Seeing the Werelion on the field with such a small battalion was rather weird for him to witness, yet he steadied his cutlass in his hands. The Pirate Prince of the White Seas grinned. I will bring you down, Lucas.
Bergan gripped his axe in his arms, struggling to keep the Bear down. He reminisced the time when Leopold took so much hold over Brackenholme, how Lucas was just a small boy. Now, he has changed so much – he was pale and his eyes were sunken. No matter what, he would fight for his land – and the Wolflord he believed in.
Gretchen snarled in disgust at the thought that he was her potential spouse – the arranged marriage aimed to get the Lion's paws to the riches of Hedgemoor. The day that she met Drew changed everything. She would fight to the end.
Whitley took hold of the quarterstaff, her pride as a Woodland Watch and as a Bearlady brimming as her fighting spirits flared. She thought back to the time she first met Drew, mistaking him for a monster and thought that her life would be gone for sure. He on the other hand had mistaken her for a boy, even till the time when he lost consciousness on the ship. She giggled silently. I will fight for all those I loved.
Rei steadied herself with her bone spear that Evaxus has carved for her. She might have been weak before, but the Rei now has changed. The boy who has fallen through time has given so much for her – now, the reason why her brother was here has arrived. This was the moment. The memories flooded through her mind – the stormy night, the torture, the days they ran in the woods, the times they spent together in the small house, the Wererat's attack…and the nightmare. Her eyes gazed forward, determined. Evaxus, this is for you.
Evaxus gritted his teeth, tips sharpening as the Dragon clawed to be unleashed. All these while….just for this moment. Father, Mother – I will do you proud, as your son, as a Keeper, as a Dragonlord! Rimetalon exuded frosty mist as his emotions poured through. He has lost his family, his entire clan, because of the war 50 years ago. Now, he could rectify it and fulfill his duty. More than that, he has another soul to protect. Rei, this is for you.
Drew glared at his half-brother born from Amelie, the White Wolf who was both he and Lucas' mother. Her conditions were unknown in Highcliff, so were the many others he knew – Captain Harker, Duke Manfred, Baron Ewan… His Ma and Pa were gone, and his human brother Trent Ferran's status was unknown as well. All these were because of him – and the Catlords. Now, his very enemy was standing before him, and he was determined to make this right again.
Let this…begin
Sorry to disappoint you if you have expected the great battle to be in this chapter XD''' it will be up in the next one. The two sides shall finally clash – what will the outcome be? *dramatic drum rolls*
Thanks for the continued support by the way ^^
TEASERS TIME, one-liner. =_='''
"No…this, this can't be! How..but, why-"