He felt the change immediately. The air was heavy and the lights were dimmed. Owain widened his stance, something was amiss. The first strike pierced his side. The fell magic of the assailant's weapon scorched through the flesh at his ribs. Alas! He'd not thought to wear his armor! His arrogance had already cost him. The sentinel fell forward in a desperate roll, his speed was stolen!
Owain rushed to his feet, blinking away sudden sweat. He could see him now, his foe. Ensha! Foul coward! He threw several quick punches at the fiend; only the last landed, cracking clean the man's disgusting helm. Ensha dodged away swiftly, a furious eye glaring at Owain through his fractured faceplate. "Even unarmored and unarmed, I am beyond you, caitiff!" Owain bellowed out. "Come, break upon my fists, dastard!" He slammed a hand on his chest to to rouse himself, whatever enchantment Ensha's weapons held took a dangerous amount of time to dissipate.
Their movements were lightning quick. Ensha may have been a coward, but he was certainly skilled. One of the man's bone weapons slashed against Owain's arm and he stumbled with a growl, the strikes stole away his very vitality. The sentinel lashed out with a roar, damn this fleeing gnat! Several more blows and not a single one landed. Fie! Owain was too slow with the magic yet lingering and, even with his towering height, he lacked the reach of a proper weapon. A weapon! He eyed the rusty swords stuck into the top of massive round table.
Shooting forth a feint, Owain leapt atop the table and wrenched forth the nearest sword. It broke in two at the movement, but it would have to do. Ensha watched him warily, awaiting his next move. "Beg your death god for mercy, Ensha, for you shall find none with me." He burst forth with a great jump, slashing down.
As his booted feet landed on the dusty floor of hold, Owain smiled. Only a tarnished could truly kill a tarnished, or so Melina had once told him. This was a contest to true death. The two warriors stood stock still, assessing each other. Ensha was nervous now, he shifted often on his feet. Owain suspected his stamina was flagging, he'd expected a quick kill, not a drawn out brawl. The sentinel thundered forth, batting aside the ensorcelled weapons.
He had the advantage now, he was far larger and more skilled in open combat. Owain pushed Ensha back, crowding him into the wall. Their exchanges became ever more desperate and Owain's smile savage grin ever broader. Obscene recreant! It was only moments more before Ensha finally faltered. Owain wasted no time, plunging his blade into the the neck of the craven's armor. The sentinel watched in vicious satisfaction as the assassin faded to golden dust.
Owain stumbled back, heaving great breaths. He'd not been so pushed in a duel since before his death. His side ached and he looked down to see a growing pool of blood staining his shirt. He took halting steps to the grace in the middle of the room, seeking its healing magic.
Only when his hand closed around the golden shards of light did the hold shift once more to its normal luster. What treacherous magic had Gideon employed to allow Ensha to lay in wait for Owain like that? He shook out his shoulders. Gideon. He'd tear the snake apart!
The few other Tarnished that crossed his path as he made for Ofnir's study rushed to make way. Owain made no effort to hide his fury and he was sure it showed in his thundering steps. He kicked open the double doors of the coward's lair. "Out." He growled to the several foot soldiers gathered before the large desk; their surcoat's eye's seemed to watch him as they shuffled passed.
"To what do I owe this pleasure, Owain." Ofnir would not even look up from his many maps, the disrespectful little shit!
The sentinel said nothing, only turning to close the broad doors, barring them shut. "Commander, just what do you think you're doing?" He turned to the wretch, unsurprised to see his staff in hand.
"You must have known, omniscient one, that I would find out." He stepped forward slowly, a wolf stalking a stinking sheep.
Ofnir's hands twitched on his staff, the man was plainly readying a spell as he spoke. "The lives of a few of those failed creations are hardly important."
Owain stopped before the desk. "They are Carians now, under my protection. You knew you violated my peace, knew that I would come for you. Did you truly think Ensha enough?"
Ofnir launched several sorceries at him in quick succession, Owain was fast enough to dodge the first and the second; but not the third or forth. They ripped into his chest and arms, pushing him back with piercing blows and burning magic. Owain laughed, flinging the man's large desk aside as he strode forward.
Ofnir readied are larger spell. "You think you stand so mighty, so noble! A man can not challenge a god, sentinel!" Owain leapt aside at the massive beam of light, roaring as the skin of his recently healed side was caught in the spell. "Not even yo-" Owain finally caught the rat as he paused to gloat.
Furious fingers wrapped around a spindly throat, tore off his hideous helm. Eyes ambered by draconic communion were widened in alarm. Owain threw the craven across the room to his desk, snapping his ugly staff with a forceful stomp. "Honor and justice are daily choices, villain. To lead, to guide; these are responsibilities that must be treated with care and reverence!"
It infuriated the sentinel that such a wretch would take advantage of a daughter of Godfrey, would slaughter countless innocents in search of his damned knowledge . Ofnir, old and wizened and pathetic Ofnir, laughed at him from his place on the floor. "You've always thought yourself so righteous." He wheezed. "Willing to let others do the dirty work so that your golden hands would never be soiled."
Owain scowled down at him. "The horrors you chose to commit are your own, cur."
"Are they?" he chuckled, spitting out blood. "A blind fool is what you are! I've only ever sought to make the golden order stronger, better. "
"Improvements made through the blood of innocents, through suffering; they are unworthy of the effort! Such great knowledge, such little wisdom!" Owain crouched to snap an arm forward, gathering a fist of the sorcerer's hair. "You've only ever sought greater power, filth. Do not dare pretend your acts of joyful malice were anything but self indulgent."
Pounding thuds shook the doors, but the coward's men would be unable to break down such sturdy oak. Owain's eyes narrowed, Ofnir still stared too defiantly. "Marika would have us struggle unto eternity, sword sharpening sword until there is naught left of the blade." He coughed. "I quite like these shattered lands, here I hold the power, here I pull the strings. I'll not let you force it all back into order, groveling hound."
Owain's expression was thunderous. "What know you of my queen's will?" he spat on the man, "You are in no position to let me do anything, Gideon. I will let your body rot atop high stone, that it may never make its way once more to the great tree's roots." He went to slam a fist into Ofnir's smiling teeth but was thrown off balance when the man dissolved into blue mist. As Owain's fist smashed through the floorboards, he realized his folly too late. An illusion!
Laughter came from his back and he turned just in time to see three rings of golden light hurtling towards him. His body hitched as it was sent into another memory. No! No-
"My lady, I've told you and Lord Miquella before not to wander off so far afield. You'll give Friso a conniption." Owain laughed as tiny hands patted his mouth shut.
"We did not go too far! The palace is still in sight, Miquella only wanted to practice his magic." Melania's golden eyes narrowed at him from her place in his arms. "Do not be angry with my brother, Wain!"
The hand that was not securing his young charge to his hip, smoothed her fiery hair. It was such a different shade to Ranni's but it still made him miss home. "Be not afeard, Your Highness, I am not angry. I need only make sure the two of you stay safe. You're far too young to be left unwatched outside the palace walls." He frowned in faux seriousness at her as they began down the steps to the rear gardens. He'd harshly reprimand Friso for this oversight, there should at least be a squadron of guards closeby. "You know I mislike it when you do not take Tricia with you." Though he often gave them leave to take only the kind healer on their little adventures, Owain always made sure to have a few of his sentinels shadow them from afar.
His lady pouted. "Only my feet hurt today, Wain! I am hale enough to stay outside with brother!"
Owain held back his scowl at the reminder of her affliction. The horrid rot ever worsened. Of late, he had taken to personally carrying the young princess to keep her off her feet. Lords Godwyn and Radagon were working tirelessly, but they could not seem to find a way to truly stall her sickness. He had been spending much of his off duty time with both sets of twins, though for vastly different reasons.
The foliage of the garden left dappled shadows on his charge's face, they would arrive at the latest of Lord Miqualla's hideaways in but a few moments.
"Yes, my lady. You are strong and mighty indeed. You also know better." He wiped a smudge of dirt from her pale cheeks. "Bring Tricia on your next excursion, and at least take a few sentinels. It is our sacred duty to watch over you."
Lady Melania squirmed in frustration, demanding to be put down, he did so gingerly. "The other sentinels are afraid of us! And only you will carry me." Her voice was so small, it wounded him. Owain breathed a small sigh as he knelt before her.
She was getting to the age now where she would begin to rebel against any suggestion from he or her parents, begin to question the order that had cursed her. Owain missed the days of her infancy and small childhood, before the rot had been a true concern, before the palace staff had begun to avoid her for fear of infection. He could not blame his sentinels for their reluctance, the young twins were powerful and dangerous and only children. Such potency was a fearful thing in one that did not know their limits.
"The other sentinels were not there at your birth, they did not hold you in their arms when you were but a babe, nor wipe your tears, nor brush your hair." He rested a hand gently on her frail shoulder. "Do not hold their fear against them, it will only take them more time to learn of the wonderful lady you are, sweet princess."
Lady Melania cast her head down, biting her quivering lip. She looked up at him tearfully through long lashes. "Thank you for being my friend, Wain."
"Always, my lady." He chuckled as she threw her small arms around his neck in a reckless hug. He patted her small back softly; he would never be so presumptuous to consider any of the demigods his children, but it was a close thing. Owain could not wait until he and Ranni shared such gifts. "Now, let me see what Lord Miquella has prepared today."
As the little girl scampered away on aching feet, he tried not to frown. Ranni often chided him to make his face less brutal, he was rarely successful. Owain pushed his way through the overgrown hedges that hid Miquella's newest makeshift laboratory. The boy was always devising new spells and concoctions, he was a prodigy in the truest sense, though his noble parents had bade Owain to prevent him from performing any magic too dangerous.
Two pairs of excited, golden eyes looked at him brightly as he made his way into the clearing, a roughshod platform of discarded planks had been set up to one side, and a target placed atop it. There was scattered wood everywhere, as if it'd been sliced with great force; just what mischief had Lord Miquella conjured!
"Greetings, my lord. Your lady sister told me you bade her fetch me. A new spell today, is it?"
Miquella beamed, so like his elder brothers. He had Messmer's cheekbones. "Yes Wain! A powerful spell of whirling gold! One that you might even use in battle!"
His brows furrowed in displeasure as he took his place behind the lordling. "My lord, I hope this is not something too dangerous, you know-"
"Yes, yes Owain, I know~! Just watch!" Three spinning rings of light arched out from Miquella's seal; launching with great speed to cleave clean through the target and the platform it sat on entire! This…this was a deadly spell.
Two matching grins faltered as they spied Owain's disapproving frown. He crossed his arms. "Were that a living being, it would be living no longer. Such magic is quite dangerous, my lord, my lady."
Both demi-gods wore the same frustrated expression, Lord Miquella spoke first. "But Wain! I made it for you and brother! You can use this spell to fight off criminals!" Lady Melania huffed and voiced her own affirmation.
"I am honored and grateful for the gift of such a spell, my lord, but you needn't worry. Neither of you. Keep such thoughts out of your heads, I already have magic and strength enough to safeguard you and all the golden line. Put your noble efforts towards greater causes than violence, my lord. Seek to heal, not to harm."
Miquella opened his mouth to protest but Owain saw his eyes flicker to his sister's fidgeting feet. Instead he merely murmured. "Yes, Owain. Only…please do not tell mother."
Owain's heart ached that such a young child would think to carry such a heavy burden. He knelt once more. "This once, it will be our secret. Come now, children. All three of your brothers within the capitol will be attending luncheon today, let us get you cleaned up." Both twins smiled as they raced into his arms. Owain tried not to think about how they would soon grow too large for even him to carry them both at once.
The sentinel staggered as time roared back into motion. His body had lurched to the side in his stupor, avoiding two of the spinning rings. As he watched the craven race from the room, Owain realized he had not been swift enough to avoid the third. He stumbled over the shattered remains of Ofnir's desk, off balance at the loss of his left arm. Fie! Poisonous coward! Four of the snake's men crept closer to him, likely bade to finish him off as their master fled.
Owain righted his footing with a bellow. He must move swiftly, he only had moments more until the shock of such a grievous injury wore off. "To me, fiends. Fear not your coming deaths, I will make them swift!"
There was a moment where he thought they might flee, before all four charged him at once, swords held high. Owain leapt back, scooping up a sharp piece of splintered wood as he crouched. He hurled it at the nearest soldier where it lodged in the man's neck.
The sword that had been raised against him, he caught, using it to dash aside the coming blows of the dead man's three comrades. With a shout of rage he kicked one clear across the room, slashing the next closest with such force both their blades broke, though the shards were mostly knocked in his foe's face and not his own. The last standing of the men swept his blade at him once, twice, three times before Owain found an opening. He punched the pommel of his broken sword through the open face of the man's helm. The one he had kicked lay twitching in a pile beside the door.
It was fortunate these soldiers were so pathetic, the sentinel's vision was beginning to darken. One of his knees gave out and he slammed to a kneel with a curse. He would never enter the hold so vulnerable again, this was far too close. Owain struggled to a shaking stand, he could not let Ofnir be the cause of his second true death. That would be a most profound shame.
As he stumbled through the hold, he did not come across any other tarnished that might aid him. Of course, they were only underfoot when he did not wish them to be. He eyed the stump of his severed arm worriedly, he was losing too much blood. A long trail of crimson lay at his back, across the floor and smeared along the wooden walls. Owain paused with a groan, unable to fully catch his breath. Such pain! Though, oddly, it was fading to a faint numbness.
He was within sight of the table's grace when his legs gave out once more. Damn! Damnation! Curse that sniveling pissant! Owain tried to gain his footing several times but was unable to. With a rolling growl, he began to crawl. His breaths were coming in ragged gasps now, and he could feel almost no pain from his arm or the wounds on his front. Some distant part of his mind understood that he was dying, but he chose to ignore it.
Owain was at the table edge, he need only stand, only lay a hand upon the grace before him!
He could not.