"Worth a shot," Tiras nodded, approaching the battle. His steps felt... heavy. The soldiers were panicking in the supernatural darkness, easier prey for his warriors. Renata's lessons had helped them, he saw. He noticed some of them take up spears or axes, or maces. The knight looked deeper into the complex, and found a nest of more wardens. Just as they noticed him and his dark sword, the rest of his warriors broke through, and both sides charged at each other.
Tiras held back, studying the battlefield. Cells were everywhere. Each was crowded with prisoners. He counted two cells on each wall, each one packed with prisoners. He smiled. This was exactly what he'd hoped for. A confusing fog, unwary guards, and many recruits. His plan was coming together well.
He leapt into combat with gusto, arriving to fight alongside his men. He struck at a well-armored guardsman, and when he was blocked, the knight swam his arm around his opponent's sword, clutched at his hand on the grip, and at his panic, bashed him in the helm with his pommel. The guard went down like a sack of potatoes. He found another guard battling (and rather bafflingly, succeeding at) fighting two of the insurgent rebels. Tiras approached the three, and the man's spearhead swung mere inches in front of him. Unaware of the distraction Tiras was being, one of the men charged, his sword catching the guard in the back of his thigh. At his pained scream, the other man bashed his helm in with his war hammer.
Suddenly, Tiras saw a bright light. And then another bloomed, pillars of light rising into the sky. There was a magic-user among them. He backed out of the front lines, and sheathed his sword. He brought out his tome, flipping to the appropriate page. The shining light nearly left him night blind, but he had looked away just in time. He could always see the pages of Persephone.
The servant of the church found him first, warily creeping through his black fog.
"So, it was you that made this fog."
"I? Surely you jest," Tiras said sardonically, as if he were but a lost knight out for a stroll.
"I've read of the heresies your kind are capable of. Don't pretend you don't know what you did," the man said. Upon closer inspection, it was a member of the Church of the Preservation. He couldn't have been very highly ranked to have wound up here. Or, perhaps there was another reason for his presence? "And I can see the spirit swirling around you, Heretic. Its kind allow for the use of the dark heresies, much like this accursed fog."
"Then you should know: you are doomed," Tiras said.
In response, a shining pillar leapt up from the man, and fell from heaven upon Tiras. He felt Persephone shriek in pain, but read the incantation for his own spell. He conjured an orb of darkness, sent it into the shadows on the ground, to rise and strike the monk of the false church. It didn't seem to do much, though the man grimaced a little. The knight grimaced under his helm, shaking himself. He really hated Light magic.
Didn't Renata have a tome?
Tiras held back, studying the battlefield. Cells were everywhere. Each was crowded with prisoners. He counted two cells on each wall, each one packed with prisoners. He smiled. This was exactly what he'd hoped for. A confusing fog, unwary guards, and many recruits. His plan was coming together well.
He leapt into combat with gusto, arriving to fight alongside his men. He struck at a well-armored guardsman, and when he was blocked, the knight swam his arm around his opponent's sword, clutched at his hand on the grip, and at his panic, bashed him in the helm with his pommel. The guard went down like a sack of potatoes. He found another guard battling (and rather bafflingly, succeeding at) fighting two of the insurgent rebels. Tiras approached the three, and the man's spearhead swung mere inches in front of him. Unaware of the distraction Tiras was being, one of the men charged, his sword catching the guard in the back of his thigh. At his pained scream, the other man bashed his helm in with his war hammer.
Suddenly, Tiras saw a bright light. And then another bloomed, pillars of light rising into the sky. There was a magic-user among them. He backed out of the front lines, and sheathed his sword. He brought out his tome, flipping to the appropriate page. The shining light nearly left him night blind, but he had looked away just in time. He could always see the pages of Persephone.
The servant of the church found him first, warily creeping through his black fog.
"So, it was you that made this fog."
"I? Surely you jest," Tiras said sardonically, as if he were but a lost knight out for a stroll.
"I've read of the heresies your kind are capable of. Don't pretend you don't know what you did," the man said. Upon closer inspection, it was a member of the Church of the Preservation. He couldn't have been very highly ranked to have wound up here. Or, perhaps there was another reason for his presence? "And I can see the spirit swirling around you, Heretic. Its kind allow for the use of the dark heresies, much like this accursed fog."
"Then you should know: you are doomed," Tiras said.
In response, a shining pillar leapt up from the man, and fell from heaven upon Tiras. He felt Persephone shriek in pain, but read the incantation for his own spell. He conjured an orb of darkness, sent it into the shadows on the ground, to rise and strike the monk of the false church. It didn't seem to do much, though the man grimaced a little. The knight grimaced under his helm, shaking himself. He really hated Light magic.
Didn't Renata have a tome?
![[Image: 20c7YiV.png]](http://i.imgur.com/20c7YiV.png)
Thank you Destin, for the awesome mug of Ambrose.