Hello Again!

I'm back with the second chapter of this story! I don't plan to explain much else, as it is all covered in the first chapter. If you are curious as to what Architect is and his abilities, they are listed below. I have updated the first chapter, and fixed some of the spelling mistakes within.

Architect/Tsairaah

Race: Warforged (Mechanical, Spirit Infused Humanoid)

Class: Artificer (Builder Class), Level: 18

Artificers are adept magic wielders, who border the capabilities of construction with warfare. Their knowledge is power, and they seek information above all else when trying to become greater than before. They are best known for infusing equipment with magic, usually for themselves or allies. As a general, they are more often a support class, using healing and buffing magic, but can split off based on their subclass. They are not as magically powerful as full spellcasters, but are better about the attunement of magic within themselves and what they create with their own hands.

Subclass: Armorer

Armorers are defensive warriors. Their focus is about increasing their armor prowess, and having their greatest defense be a powerful offense. Armorers tend to focus on self improvement, and build up the full abilities of their personal armor, known as Arcane Armor. This armor can be imbued with different abilities from Thunderous Gauntlets, to increased defense stats, all the way to making it near impossible to have them fail concentration on what they are doing.

Non-spell abilities:

Thunderous Gauntlets: Using their internal, ambient magic, an Armorer can infuse thunder into any melee strike they make, possibly busting through armor or hide of whatever they fight against. It can be enhanced by their intelligence, making a smart Armorer a dangerous foe

Homunculus Servant: A small assistant that can perform orders of their creator, so long as said creator has imbued them with their own personal magic and bestows upon them a gemstone as the heart of their bodies. These can take on any form the creator wishes. For Architect, he created a sphere drone, dubbed Heimerfell.

Defensive Matrix: Pushing their internal defense forward, they can exhume a protective shell just outside of their armor, which will absorb blows for their wielder. This ability grows the more experienced and knowledgeable the wielder gets.

Arcane Pull: A target within 10 meters can be pulled towards the Armorer should they fail to be strong enough. Outstretching their hand to the target, they can force something as large as a giant to come to their location.

Spell Stored Item: An Artificer can charge spells into an outside object, filling it with their essence of magic so that another individual can use it freely. This can be charged with a single low level spell, which can be casted multiple times based on the power of the creator.

Death Storage: Upon the deconstruction of their body or death, Architect can be resurrected. So long as the base of their head is kept intact, the subconscious and information within can be brought forth again. A new vassal is necessary for such an action, so another warforged body must be used. (Note: This is not a DND thing, but a Character ability)

Chapter 1: Fly From Falling Skies

Lurolona, a quaint town on the outskirts of Melromarc. Bustling with the activity of the youth, the children played an assortment of sports with a ball made from a lower level monster's orange skin. The townsfolk worked around the edges of their land, checking over the grain they could produce from their cliffside region. Fresh produce being picked, wood chopped for new homes, or breads and assorted food being made by hand in the little homes the people here inhabited.

All of the people of this land, merely grateful for the opportunities they held here. In a country that despises their kind, yet given their own plot away from all of it by the Queen of Melromarc herself.

Sometimes it was too cold during the winters, and not enough farmland could be sourced because of the location. An inability to fish or construct docks because of the jagged cliffs. Wild beasts that would pop in and cause mayhem, due to the lack of adventures that would ever come, much less help a bunch of 'mongrels the Queen took pity on'.

But it was home to them, and nothing could take that away.

At least...

...that's what it's usually like.

An anomaly many had heard about, but few lived through, decided to grace their lands. A terror that ripped through the sky, painting it with crimson and black clouds. Swirls of blue and yellow twisted light within them, and made their presence known. The pulse with magic from another plane. That which spilt out beasts and monsters like they had never seen. The Waves of Calamity had returned, and the first decided to make its target their home.

It left nothing but destruction and death in its wake. Homes were burned by beasts of spit fire. People were slain, some eaten by massive monsters, some making false mockery of creatures they lived alongside, only twisted by the madness within them. A three headed hound killed dozens, hunting many for sport before it would be forced back to its own realm.

Nothing was left untouched. No houses or workshops, no granaries or inns, no families and friends. Something was lost by everyone.

As the final flickers of the First Wave ceased its actions upon the land, none of the survivors of this onslaught noted the final object being flung out from the edge of the Calamity. It glowed white as it broke through air, losing its shine the further it parted from its entrance. As the air began to settle, the crimson of the skies settling right back to blue with streaks of white, a thump echoed in the distance of the village. A puff of dust signaled its landing upon the hard grounds, grass and rock uprooted by its unabated impact.

It would not be discovered for some time. After all, what is a comet to those who just lost everything they cared for?

The people of Lurolona grieved for their losses, nearly broken by the anguish of what little remained. If not for the courage of a young girl, one who stood atop the remains and pleaded for her people to move forward, it could be said that the village would have truly died there.

It only takes one to stand up for what's right, and to keep moving forward. To grief, to love, to cherish, but to understand the need for progress, and to make a step in the right direction. It inspires the masses, who move to do more, and to rebuild the broken; to work as a community.

And so, as the town set to fix itself, something echoed at the edge of their lands.

He awoke to his vision being filled with rock and soil, his body face down in an indent similar to his own size. His senses alerted him to the sounds of chirping birds. Maybe only a few yards from where he was...no, they sounded a bit further, and were just loud. Like that of coastal gulls that he remembered hearing on his travels through Feldspar. That was all he heard. No other noise, at least from where he was. It was calm, almost eerie how quaint it was currently.

He felt like a block of lead. His internal systems refused to comply with orders. His armor did not sing for him, nor shift as it usually did upon mental request. His legs were buckled under their own weight. 'I wonder if this is what Lyell complains about when he says he is 'sore'.' See no means to move, he stayed where he was

'Where am I?' He pondered. 'I held Rastokal. Zy Yeal's attack was to vaporize us both, yet I remain.' He tried to let his eyes wander, but was met with that of a crater, seemingly dug in around his form. 'I don't remember falling. Perhaps the heavens judged me and found me unworthy of any afterlife.' He surmised. 'If that hypothesis holds any truth, then I should be able to move. Come on...move.' He attempted to command his arm to shift, even a little.

Nothing.

Under his bent helm, Architect grunted, a puff of steam leaving his mouth. 'Come on, if I have to live as a buried body again, I will be quite upset.' Thinking of other options, he called upon his magic, wondering if he needed to give himself a kick in the right direction. He felt for his magic deep inside of his soul. It sputtered under his layers, seemingly trapped within itself. It shifted about, and he felt himself grow a bit unstable.

He forced himself to relax. Taking careful moments, he urged his magic forward, out of the location of the heart. It shook about, almost as if it were also jostled by the strange place he was in. Architect had not the time to think about his location though, only about getting information, and getting out of this crater. He pulled his magic around himself, slowly channeling it through his torso. Upon this, some ability returned to him.

He felt his chest shift. He listened as the soil under his form jolted from the movement. He smiled to himself, before refocusing once more. He channeled the magic down into his hands, feeling the life slowly return to them. With a pulsation of magic, he felt his fingers flex gently under his . 'Slow steps to success.' He lifted his hand up, placing it on the edge of the crater. It clattered heavily onto rock and dirt, and he felt grip return to him.

'And one step at a time.' And he began channeling his magic to his legs.

Lurolona Village

A little girl looked around at the destruction, eyeing the ruins of her home with sadness. Many homes would never be restored, some probably never wanted to be restored, as the whole of families within were now gone. She noted how some people would start breaking down for a minute while working, or every so often another body was found. She tried to look away, not wanting to already break her promise.

Even with all the despair, she had hope. Hope that this land will become a home again. Hope that even though so much is lost, so much more can be found with each other. That the actions of herself and her fellow villagers would honor the people that died. It was enough to keep her going, and to stay on task even with so much wanting to inject itself into her mind. The girl gripped at the rigging of a flag, thinking about the means of getting it hoisted upwards.

The raccoon-like ears upon her head twitched at the noise to his side, telling her of the approaching footsteps. She turned her head, her slightly ragged, brown hair dancing on her shoulders as her eyes found themselves on two figures. One was another girl around her size, adorned in layers of a light pink dress and frilled white sleeves. Her hair was a short, light blonde, with eyes that shined like golden suns. Atop her head was a pair of ears the same color as her hair, fuzzy and curved to resemble that of a weasel. The other was slightly taller with navy hair, streaked with white at the edges as it framed their face. Atop their head was that of blue wolf like ears, colored white inside from the fur within. They were dressed in lighter clothing, with a shirt that exposed their midriff, and a black pair of shorts.

The raccoon eared girl smiled at them both. "Rifana, Keel, would you mind helping me with this flag?"

The blonde haired girl, Rifana, nodded her head. "Of course, Raphtalia." She smiled sweetly at her friend, moving to grab up one of the corners. On the opposite edge, the other child, now known as Keel, hoisted up their edge. Raphtalia nodded to both of them, hooking the edge of the flag onto the base of a pole and through a ring. Rifana and Keel stretch the flag out, which revealed the symbol of the village. It flapped around under the strain of their hold, Raphtalia finishing her side before preparing to grab the other edge.

Keel bit their lip, not able to hold it in any longer. "Raphtalia." They said softly. "Your parents died, didn't they." It came out as a statement more than a question. The air grew cold at the words. Rifana eyed Keel with a glare before they turned to Raphtalia, her eyes immediately full of concern.

Raphtalia, however, turned to the pole, rope in hand, and smiled. "Sure I'm sad." She spoke softly, "But I told myself 'no crying.' My dad always said to keep smiling, even when times get hard." Raphtalia looked to the edge of the village with fondness, eyeing a stone that stood at the edge of the cliffs. One that stood tall, reminding her of what she needed to do.

"If you're trying so hard to keep a smile on your face, then we should too!" Rifana beamed at her friend, happy that such words didn't ruin her spirit.

"Yeah!" Keel let out enthusiastically.

As the three nodded to their new vow to each other, Rifana's eyes drifted to the hills that bordered the town. Her eyes caught sight of dust, and her ears of stomping feet. She pointed to where she looked, alerting her friends of her perception.

"Who are they?"

Tsairaah (Architect)

Stomp*

Stomp*

Stomp*

Heavy thuds trudged against the ground, carrying the weight of a weary warrior. Their armor was bent, their helm caved in, their shoulder in pieces, and their torso lacerated and cracked in multiple places.

Their massive hands floated over spots within their defense, pulling parts together with iron strength that slowly returned. "Winid" echoed from the shell of armor, with the hand then emitting a soft hue of orange. Even as he walked, he focused his intent on his actions. His eyes drifted to the piece of armor at his pauldron, which slowly sealed itself together as he placed the intent of his magic into it.

'Thank my creator that Winid is a simple spell. I barely had enough magic to heal myself to a moving degree. I would probably say that if I were human, I would have died in that fall from the shock of impact. Thank my creator that I'm made of sterner stuff.' He continued to walk through the small zone of trees that he found himself in upon his initial impact.

'All I know is that I felt Rastokal's body fall apart in my arms, then the white light. Now I'm here after falling from the sky apparently. Unless whatever fortune brought me here just made a hole that was my size so I could be teleported into it...I am spending too much time with Zy Yeal.' He elaborated to himself, noting the thinning of the trees, and the glimpse of what lay past the hill he was traversing.

'My armor is in shreds. I'll need to repair multiple parts of it, mainly around the torso and shoulders. My leg armor pieces held up, though are bent and damaged. I survived the fight with Rastokal, but it was time to replace them anyway. I can melt down the material and produce a new formation with the leftovers and some more steel.' Architect went forward with his mental calculations. 'Heimerfell is back at Keep Dorn, but I can't connect with it. I don't feel Zy Yeal's long range telepathy magic either.' Architect continued thinking about the means of getting back to his country, and contacting Zy Yeal or his squire about a rendezvous.

Then he heard it. Even with his mind on a thousand other things, it was hard not to hear the screams. His steps hastened, moving to the top of the hill and out of the forest line. His lenses widened upon what he witnessed.

There was a village. A small village on the edge of what looked to be a cliffside, possibly even a cape. It was in ruins, with many buildings toppled over themselves, and smoking from battle not long ago. The more alarming thing was the people.

In the near distance, he saw soldiers brandished in plate metal running about, swords swinging in their hands. Not out of combat, but of intimidation. People being rounded up, corralled together as they were pushed towards the opposite edge of the village. He observed as a man was knocked to the floor, hoisted up by several of the armed knights then carried towards what looked like a prisoner's cart.

Then he heard yelling, and it was much closer. It only took him but a moment to determine which side to be on in that instance.

Outskirts of Lurolona

Rifana was running with all the power she could muster. She tried her best to ignore the yelling behind her. They spit out curses for her to give up. The clattering of suits of armor and the singing of blades through the air.

She heard the stomping of feet get closer, and wanted to shut it out, believing she was faster than them. The wind bit at her eyes as she ran for the forest, making it hard to see. Her dress rode up on her, chaffing and slowing her steps, making her want to cry out in despair at her favorite clothing causing her anguish.

The grass under her feet flicked back and forth as she moved with haste, she eyed the tree line that grew closer, a glimmer of hope fastening to her thoughts. She thought of Keel. Of Raphtalia, who urged for her to run as fast as she could as she distracted the soldiers. She mourned for her friend, wondering if her sacrifice would save Rifana.

"Gotcha!"

It would not.

Rifana felt a pull on her arm rip her from her journey forward, knocking her backwards into the iron grip of metal. "You're not going anywhere, you whelp!"

Rifana's eyes clouded over with despair. She looked to the forest edge, the overhang of trees that could have hidden her away. The trees which led to a pass in the mountain, out of the land bestowed by the Queen. She smelled the sweat and musk of her captor, the moment trapping itself within her mind, as if to tell her that she almost did it. Rifana could not hear any words, her mind blanking away from whatever the next words were of the Melromarcian Knight. Even with all the mixed emotions that swirled in her heart, one thought pressed forward the most.

'At least me and Raphtalia will be together again.' It was almost enough to make her smile.

Then something tugged at her stomach, and she was no longer wrapped by the hold of her jailer. "Salora Dost (Vortex Warp)." It was monotonous, stoic, and almost cold in its tone. It was unrecognizable as any phrase she has ever heard. Regardless, the two words shot through Rifana's ears and into her mind, reawakening the ability to hear.

Rifana breathed in a massive breath, the light returning to her eyes. The smell of pine hit her nose, and she immediately recognized the smell of the forest right next to her. She looked in all direction, her eyes catching the soldier that was holding now a distance away, several others at his side as he looked around, before his eyes locked back onto her. Anger seemed to brew within his orbs, and he brandished his sword, making steps towards Rifana's position along the rest of the soldiers who followed. Rifana startled, and prepared to make an escape into the forest.

That is until she heard the voice once more, and a massive leg moved in front of her form, a shadow towering over her.

"Cha bhith thu a' dol a dh'àite sam bith leis a' phàiste seo gus am bi fios agam carson a tha thu a' dèanamh seo." The figure spoke with deep words, ones Rifana had never heard. In a dialect that sounded almost otherworldly. It rolled off of his tongue in a strange manner. It did not help how flat it came out, sounding more like a command than anything.

The soldiers seemed to grow irritated at the actions of this stranger. They eyed the tall warrior, taking in the fact they wielded no sword, then eyes tracked to the weasel girl just behind his leg. "Hey, Jackass, hand over the girl before you know what's coming to ya. As soldiers of the Melromarcian Knights, our job is the will of the Crown." The soldier who had previously grabbed Rifana pointed his blade at the tall foreigner. "And you don't want to upset the orders given by the king. Much less as a foreigner getting involved in business that could get him killed." The soldier smirked, their eyes moving to the girl behind the massive leg.

Rifana ducked back even more, concealing more of her body behind the boots. She felt her hands shiver ever so slightly as she wondered what to do. "So Castellan is the language here. Interesting." She heard, whispering from above her. It brought her a bit more relief, at least knowing the man could understand her.

The dented head shifted, looking over the front most soldier. "I have but one question: Why are you attempting to capture this girl?" Said soldier startled back a bit, surprised that the stranger actually understood them. Before he could speak however, another soldier stepped forward, wielding a morningstar.

"Are you kidding?!" The knight exclaimed. "She's a demi! She's less than human!" The words bit into the frame of the little girl. "The only thing they're good for is dying and playing with." The soldier then leered at the child behind the stranger, who tried with all her might to obscure her whole form behind the single leg. All of the soldiers took slow steps forward, making steady gains towards both targets. The entire time, the metal covered stranger stood at the same spot.

Rifana looked at the soldiers. There were five of them, and all of them were pretty close. All of them were either holding swords, spears, and spiked clubs. Meanwhile this stranger didn't seem to have any weapons, only some magic and...

. , .

. , .

A shield

The soldiers were within a few meters now, some getting close for a circle around the stranger and their prize. Rifana thought about running away, thinking they might be distracted enough by the stranger to get her some space. She shifted her weight to the balls of her feet, checking over the guards that were a little closer to her.

She looked past them as well, seeing her village and all of its people that were more than likely captured. Keel... Raphtalia...

"A demi?... I think I understand, then." The words sank into her form. Before she could act on her plan, a massive hand grabbed her up around the frame, removing her from the forest edge she had stood upon. She shook in the hold of the stranger, who didn't even seem to struggle at the hold he placed upon her. She thought about fighting again, but was already caught.

He seemed to look her over, a dented helmet not revealing the face underneath. It seemed to weigh her life, observing her features. She wanted to say something, but no words would come forth. All she could do was stare into his helmet, pleading desperately. Her ears twitched upon her head against her demands, knowing her features might get her killed.

A moment went by, then the figure turned back to the soldiers. "I have made a decision." Nodding his head in their direction.

Then Rifana felt herself soar.

Tsairaah twisted on the ball of his foot, swiveling his body around as he gripped around the frame of the small child. The soldiers watched with shock. With as much strength as he could, he sent the girl flying through the air, a scream tearing through her throat, softening in volume the further she got.

She began to descend, her body arcing down into the tree line several meters below her. Outstretching his hand towards her, he called upon the little reserves of magic he held within. "Nasir Wielg (Feather Fall)." Shot out from his frame, the words carrying the intent of his power behind it.

The magic overtook her falling form, a glow surrounding her. No sooner that it did, her accelerated drop from the air slowed. Like that of a feather, her body drifted downwards with much more grace than previous. Architect looked to the trees, noting that she should be able to grab upon the branches for some safety and hide. The soldiers were wearing armor, so it was unlikely that they would be able to climb up and grab her if she was in a tall pine.

Speaking of the soldiers.

"Men, kill this scoundrel!" Two blades swung down upon the tall form of Architect, wide arcs intent on cleaving into the already lacerated armor. Architect dips to the side, avoiding the strike of one. The other makes a hit upon his side, but bounced off of the plate that was fortunately there, still holding on to his body thanks to the quick repairs he made not a few moments ago.

Two more soldiers bounded around his flank. The one with a mace charged in for a heavy attack, aiming for the spot Tsairaah's ribs would be while another thrust a spear into the shoulder. Tsairaah blocked the spear with his shield, the blow glancing off to the side as he knocked the foe back from their attack. The mace, however, shot into the lower plates of his armor, bashing against the metal frame.

Tsairaah grunted at the blow, his gaze now upon all four targets. At the back of the pack stood their makeshift leader, who had yet to move. They held their sword in both hands, as if daring the larger opponent to move towards him.

Tsairaah pushed a foot forward, making the two at his front stumble back as he crouched to their level. Ambient magic channeled into his fist, empowering it with a vibrating pulse. The gauntlet shot forward, knocking right into the chest plate of one of the soldiers. Blood shot from their mouths as the energy clattered through their armor, shaking their very bones. Their organs shot around inside them, the force of the attack shooting them back several meters.

The soldier collapsed onto the ground, red splattered across their face, eyes losing their glimmer by the moment.

Tsairaah swung his fist at the other, his hand making contact with the protections adorned on the target's arm. The soldier let out a howl as a sickening crunch shot through the air, their arm bending at a horrible angle. Even so, they seemed to have their wits. They tucked in as the force of the impact sent them sprawling into the grasses, rolling away as their blade flew from their grip. Pained filled moans emanated from their form, signaling the other soldiers of his survival.

The leading soldier moved to his fellow man, taking in his damaged form and the grunts of suffering that escaped their lungs whilst they were prone. The remaining soldiers were spurred into fury, the one with the mace, pulling his mace back for another blow. The spear wielder shifted his feet, moving around the other side to strike at the shoulder that was seemingly unarmored.

Tsairaah went and swung around, facing the mace wielder who had pulled their weapon back for a solid attack. The mace swung down with reckless abandon, the brawn carrying it towards the target. Tsairaah brought his shield to guard, allowing the attack to impact his damaged shield. The clang of metal on metal sounded to him and the other soldiers, the strength of the attack barely putting him at a flinch.

With a shift in weight, a spear soared past where his shoulder was, the power of the thrust bringing the soldier closer into Tsairaah's range of grapple. The soldier nearly stumbled over themself. Tsairaah took full advantage of this. His fist charged, he used his other arm and shoved against the weight of the soldier with the mace, who managed to hold firm in their position despite the weight of the taller warrior.

He didn't let up, sending a powered fist directly into the face of the mace wielder, who had not the time to dodge. Cartilage and bone caved around the gauntlet, blood spilling out the orifices of the man's face as his eyes bulged around the steel infused hand. Before the body could be sent flying, Tsairaah gripped around the arm of the fresh corpse with his shielded hand, and proceeded to send the body flying towards the spear wielder.

The spear soldier blanches as the body of his fellow soldier is sent right towards him. He manages to dip out of the way, shooting to the ground as a dull thud sounds out a few meters from his location. He moved to pull himself from the ground, gripping at his spear with a shaking grip.

A shadow eclipsed him.

The soldier nervously looked up, and felt fear take his heart.

The lone soldier heard a scream shoot through the air, and he grit his teeth as he continued looking through the forest canopies for his target.

By the time he had looked over the first soldier, life was already leaving him. The other's arm was in shambles under the layer of armor, making him all but useless for the rest of the fight. Had it been his non-dominant hand crushed under the strike, he would have pressed him to keep fighting, but alas, the foreigner had not only destroyed his arm of combat, but the soldier's spirit.

Not seeing any better options, he knew that his men would lose. He retreated into the woods, his men dying one by one by the monster's attacks. Their cries of pain, and the silence that followed would rattle in his mind for some time, but he could not fail his new task.

'I can't let the girl live. The foreigner is one problem, but it's his word against our own, especially as an outsider. He could try and tell people what happened, but he just killed Melromarcian soldiers, so a bounty could be put upon him immediately. His words will mean nothing after that.' His eyes darted around the trees, trying to remember where the girl flew and where she descended down within the trees. 'But if a SURVIVOR managed to escape and level up into an adult, they could reveal what happened. Hell, the little brat could even call upon the Queen! It would be all of our heads on the chopping block after that. No, I'm not letting that happen! If I live past this, I refuse to be living in constant fear of some little bitch half-breed ratting on what we're doing.' His eyes darted from side to side, trying to see anything from the frills of a dress to blond streaks with mongrel ears in them.

It was quite in the distance, telling him that his men had either retreated, or were finished off. He doubled his efforts, noting that she couldn't have gotten far, based on the throw. Even if she went slowly with that strange phrase the foreigner said, she would fall around-

A small shoe fell a few meters from where he was. His eyes widened, and he looked up from where it landed.

His eyes locked on a pastel pink dress, which shifted around as it pressed against the park of the tree. Frail arms were gripped around the height of the tree, a pair of legs shakily wrapped around a wilting branch that seemed to hold her weight. A smile more foul returned to his lips. 'Found you!' He charged for the tree, his legs finding new adrenaline within as he moved to the base of the pine. He jumped forward, his body putting all he could into the leap as he hoisted himself up half a meter from where the tree met soil.

He felt his armor drag him down, but pushed forward, gripping around thick branches and using them to carry him up towards his salvation. Metal shifted, scraping against the trunk of the tree as he moved closer and closer. The girl above him held on tighter to the branch she was on, her golden eyes looking back at him with fear.

The soldier grinned maliciously. "Don't worry, brat. I'll make this quick. I don't have time to have fun with you." He pulled on a branch, noting he was but a meter or so from her legs. Little legs he could grab and force down, bring the rest of her sorry existence down into the edge of his blade. "For being so difficult, I may just have to tell the Sergeant about all this. Maybe I can request to buy some of your friends." She gasped, and it drove the soldier further. His armor was getting heavier. She was so close. "Yeah... I remember you running away with another brat with long brown hair. It'll be fun to-"

A force like none he ever felt ripped at his backside, then his torso, and finally his whole body. A yelp of shock slipped through his throat as he lost his footing on the tree. A force much like gravity tore at him, even as he attempted to grip at the tree for support. Branches snapped in his hold, and armor shifted free of the bark as the soldier's body finally descended back down the pine. He spun through the air, his eyes cast to the forest floor. He screamed out in terror, moving to place his arms in front of himself to soak up some of the impact.

A metal coated hand shot out and grabbed the falling man around the neck.

The soldier's eyes shot wide open at the grip surrounding his throat. It was tight, oppressive and cold, digging into his spine from around the back and squeezing harder each second. Air struggled to pass through to his lungs, and his body spasmed as it was dangled in the air, mere inches from the ground.

A haunting helmet looked back at him, no eyes to be seen under, but the expression from beneath being clear to the soldier. Their armor was splattered with blood, and their arm outstretched, holding their captive audience with no sympathy.

"What were you saying? 'It'll be fun to' do what?" The soldier sputtered, no air escaping their lips as his lungs clung desperately to what was left in them. He reached for the sword on his side, pulling it from its sheath with quick action. He swung it with all the strength he could muster, aiming for the side of the massive man who held him.

The sword hand was grabbed from the air by another iron grip, this one much more relentless. The squeezing pain forced the blade from his hand, then shifted the bones of his arm to press against one another with agony. He could not scream, only tears falling from his face as the bones split and cracked under his skin, the feeling of white hot fire boiling in his arm even as ice cold metal was wrapped around it.

"I am not good at 'fun', as I was built for one purpose." 'Built?' Immediately crossed through the soldier's mind as the stoic words were uttered from his captor. The grip at his throat tightened, and the suffering in his lungs seemed to grow stronger the longer it pained him. "I was built to protect the innocent...and slay the wicked..."

The grip was too tight...too tight! He felt like his spine was splitting. His body could no longer shake and toil, his mind grew cloudy, even as the tears poured from his eyes. He wanted to plead for mercy, to outrage at the unfairness, to threaten this foreign monster with the power of the crown! He had too much to live for! He was Yorrick Von Selastine of-

"And I have decreed that the child is innocent."

*Crack*

(End Chapter)

Cha bhith thu a' dol a dh'àite sam bith leis a' phàiste seo gus am bi fios agam carson a tha thu a' dèanamh seo: You will not be going anywhere with this child until I know why you are doing this

Salora Dost: Vortex Warp, can warp a target in any direction that the caster chooses, so long as the target does not resist the pull of the spell.

Nasir Wielg: Feather Fall, slows the target as they descend, stopping them from taking injuries from gravitational pull.

I changed this chapter a bit, and you will start seeing the name Tsairaah alot more. It is to increase the intrigue of who he really is, and I should have done this before.

Questions, Comments, Concerns? Let me know in reviews or PM. I hope you enjoyed this chapter.

And to those who are curious, yes, canon is not surviving.