FALL APART {GLOBAL}

[FelicitÉ Lydell d'Amorele]

Felicite wasn't meant to be out long. Daenyeh'l was inside the conference- it was the third night, and things seemed to be going decently. There had only been one minor scuffle, but both men had been drunk, and no one took either seriously (particularly when they found out both were from Niendra). They had been kicked out of the campsite, and things had proceeded. Felicite had wanted to get some festival food. Daenyeh'l's guards had gotten aggravated by his constant presence and the prince's favor to the boy, so they had refused to bring him anything special. He'd have to go out and get it himself.

He'd eaten his meal in peace and watched the festivities. It reminded him of the winter festival, only there was a much wider range of people- from different social classes, from different countries. He'd left the scene with a peace in his heart and the thought that perhaps things would turn out all right afterall.

"Hey there, angel, where do you think you're going?" Felicite didn't respond, there was no way the voice could be talking to him. But he saw a young man walking towards him- fast. Fear was the first response. And when he picked up his own past, then man began weave through the crowds- he WAS following him.

Felicite ran between some of the tents- all abandoned as their respective residents were at the conference talks. He was trying to get back to Daenyeh'l's tent, if he could make it that far... but he bumped into another man, face first, and fell back.

"I-I'm sorry! Oh, please, you've got to help me. I think this man is following me. I don't know what to do--" but he caught this man's eyes... they weren't that of a friend.

Just as they'd planned, the prince's little friend bumped into his chest and asked for his help. Jaespehr didn't bother hiding their malicious intent from showing on their face, even allowing a smirk to curve up the one side of his mouth. The necromancer crouched down, out of kicking range and spoke softly, "Want me to keep you safe from the big bad wolf?"

Felicite started to crawl backwards. "HELP!"

"They're so cute when they scream," Vaenes said from behind Felicite. It took him mere seconds to crouch down and slap his hand over Felicite's mouth. "But if you don't stay quiet, we may have to cut your pretty little throat." Another arm came out to wrap around the boy's torso and keep his arms pinned to his sides so that Jaespehr could administer the sedative.

Jaespehr stood up to his full height, and looked down upon Felicite as he produced a syringe from his pocket. The large male then moved forward, crouched again and spread Felicite's legs. He then shoved the thick needle through the cloth of their captive's pants and into the soft flesh of his inner thigh, an all-too-pleased smirk on his lips as he pressed on the plunger,

Felicite screamed into Vaenes's hand, eyes wide with fear, tears pouring down his cheeks as Jaespehr spread his legs and stabbed the syringe into his thigh. Weakness over came him, his eyes became heavy, and he went limp in his captive's arms.

"Heh, cute," Vaenes waited until Jaespehr had pulled back before he picked the boy up. "C'mon, let's get him out of here before anyone sees," and if anyone questioned them, they could pretend to be presenting a good will gesture, helping the poor boy who had fainted due to the heat of the crowd- taking him to the healer's tent which was, conveniently, near their escape.

[Lusha je D'caarre]

Outside the tent, Lusha had to entertain herself while the conference happened inside. She felt as though she was going stir crazy standing outside the tent guarding it while it seemed most people weren't even giving the tent a second glance. Several fellow Niendran told her to relax, but deep inside she felt like she was losing her bearings. It could have just been the fact that she couldn't be inside the tent, she had no idea what was going on, or the fact that she felt like something back was going to happen; either way she needed to relax her nerves. The more she stood there with just her thoughts rolling through her head the more she felt doom cloud over her, it was so odd a feeling for her. Lusha felt the same way she had when she learned that her brother was ill. Of course, she didn't understand why. Nothing could go wrong here. It was a peace conference, it was not the beginning of an apocalypse for their countries.

Excusing herself from her fellow soldiers, Lusha decided to take a little walk around the camp. She needed air, she needed to calm her nerves, and like her brother walking seemed to be the one thing that could calm the je D'caarre nerves the best. Her breathing and her heart beat returned to normal as she walked. Her mind wasn't clouded with thoughts such as it had been before. She saw several people mingling, some soldiers standing at ease though tense because they weren't quite sure. Out of respect she gave them a nod, even if they were Carthonian. Nothing horrible was happening, and she no longer felt as though something horrible was going to happen. Even if something horrible were to go down, she was there, that is why Daenyeh'l brought some of the Niendran soldiers, as a pre-caution in case something were to happen. There was hope in all of them that nothing would go wrong.

But one could never predict exactly what could happen at such a thing as a peace conference. Some people believed that it wouldn't make much peace, and those opinions varied from each side of the persuasion. It's time like these when Lusha wished her brother was around, she was feeling so much confusion, and he had always been the only one that could clear her mind of that. He always knew the write words to ease her mind; though, she had always been the more rational and skeptical of the two. Lusha never knew how much she depended on her brother until she was actually thinking on how much he helped her become herself. Though, she didn't feel like herself pretending to be a boy to honor her brother's wish to be a soldier in the Niendran army.

What would Lusha do? She thought to herself.... The crowd had seemed to become quite suffocating, she turned squinting her eyes to look about, curious. Something was going down, she could feel it, the crowd was acting weird; they were obviously not sure either. Lusha pushed through them, curious, finding a sight she couldn't hardly believe. She had seen this boys face several times, he had been in Daenyeh'l's tent for quite some time; he was a friend of Daenyeh'l's and a Niendran. Any Niendran in alliance with Daenyeh'l was one she was ordered to protect, and it was quite obvious she hadn't been doing a swell job. But she wasn't about to let them get away with what just happened.

This is what the Niendran army had trained her for, confrontation, being able to fight for their people. She was prepared and ready for anything that was to face her. With that Niendran pride, she marched up to the one holding a limp Felicite -- obviously remembering his name at the last minute -- roughly placing her hand on his arm. Her eyes, if she had the power of illusion would shine as red as flames, practically glaring a hole into the other one's head. "And where do you think you're going?" Her voice was just as hot as her face. "No matter, you're not going anywhere with him." She motioned her head at the limp body of Felicite.

for the pc
word count 709
notes o-o*

[Sorren Alotear Radvhet]

The Baron of Maesser was not having a very good day. In fact, the longer this farce of a peace conference dragged on, the worse his mood got. Nothing had been accomplished in the two days they had already been here, and he sincerely doubted any more time would help the situation. Though he had to hand it to the Niendrans; so far they had managed to keep things fairly civil. At least they hadn't tried to pull any tricks... yet.

It was getting rather difficult to keep from grumbling at his own men, though he knew that would only reflect badly upon him. Being camped out in the middle of a field for three days after having travelled quite a ways on horseback was not a relaxing experience, to say the least. It would have been different if they were doing something productive, but as far as he was concerned nothing at all was getting done and the whole thing was a waste of time. And if there was one thing he hated, it was wasting time.

He was walking around, trying to clear his head so he could go back to his camp and not lash out as his men, when he spotted a commotion up ahead. Picking up the pace, he shouldered through the crush of people and was surprised to see his son Vaenes and the boy's friend Jaespehr carrying an unconscious and rather effeminate male, and a Niendran soldier seemingly accosting them. Sorren stepped forward and glowered at the young soldier, his hand on his sword hilt, his patience already fraying at the edges.

"Just what do you think you're doing? My son has the right to come and go as he pleases," he growled.

[FelicitÉ Lydell d'Amorele]

"You heard him," Vaenes smiled charmingly at the woman. "We have the right to come and go as we please. And right now, this boy needs medical attention- so excuse us," he pulled back from Lusha.

He remained silent, though his dark expression made it more than obvious that he did not appreciate Lusha's interruption. The necromancer tried to keep his cool, however he couldn't help but play the image of breaking every finger on that hand Lusha had dared place on Vaenes' arm. Jaespehr stood tall and imposing, tense and ready to spring into action.

Speaking to the older man, ignoring the youngest one, "You think they have the right to leave when they hold in their hands a sedated Niendran?" Glares at the boys, guessing they hadn't figured that she saw, "Of which I am sure they have no intention of giving any medical attention to." Her anger burning inside of her.

Sorren gripped the hilt of his sword tighter, his annoyance giving way to anger as the soldier implied his son was involved in something untoward. "Are you accusing my son of drugging a Niendran at a peace conference?" he asked, eyes narrowed, his voice laced with malice.

"It certainly sounds like it," Vaenes was backing up from the two. This couldn't be more perfect- that is, if they had to get caught, at least his father was there to support him. He wondered if his father truly knew the intention of his actions, however, or if he really believed he wasn't capable of a plot like this.

She was not too far from the commotion having been wandering around just in case she ran into someone she didn't like, which was most nobles anyway. Walking slowly she peered around a tent to see a group of males and a whole lot of tension.

One arm was holding some of Felicite's limp weight while the other hand went to his sword hilt. He was glad Sorren had shown up when he did, this was working out well. "We'll be on our way. This boy needs attention." His tone was deep and firm, cold eyes locking on Lusha.

"I am not accusing them of anything," she glared at the eldest man, mimicking his motion. Slightly pulling at the hilt of her sword, before she spoke again, "I saw them with my own eyes, and if your old eyes are too blind to see what is really happen you'll soon see the truth." Her voice was fierce with the threat of her words. She turned to the boys, pulling her sword further out, "You're not going anywhere with him!"

Sorren fumed at the soldier insulting both himself and his son's intentions, drawing his sword and placing it between Vaenes and Lusha in an effort to protect him from what he perceived as a threat. "How dare you speak that way."

One red brow quirked up as she continued to observe the group. There was more then just tension involved in this, and she was not the only person to begin noticing. The revealing of the blade made a sharp sound and drew more attention. Even Kel placed a hand on one of her hilts, being wary but watchful.

Vaenes handed off Felicite to Jaespehr, as he was not directly in the girl's way. "There's no talking sense in to her. Let's just go." He growled.

He easily took Felicite from his lover and tossed the boy over one shoulder. This way he could still use one arm if he needed to. Preparing for the worst, his magic was already reaching into the ground, searching for any corpses or skeletons he could use as a last resort. "Let's." He took a step away from Sorren and Lusha, keeping his eyes on the effeminate soldier.

"Talking sense into me? Your old man is the one who needs sense talked into him," she barked the words at the boy, seeing the older man's blade go between them. She laugh harshly, pulling out her own, "I know what I saw, and I'm not backing down until that Niendran is my arms." She was at the ready, watching all the men around her, though her eyes on the one holding Felicite. Nodding her head, "Your not going anywhere."

There was a building up of energy now and it tingled across her overly sensitive skin alerting her senses. Someone was getting ready for something and she wrapped one hand around the hilt of a blade completely and stood in front of a small gathering of on lookers that had begun to file in closer beause of the loud voices in the area. Peace conference...not so peaceful after all.

Sorren moved forward, putting himself between them as he brought his sword up a bit higher, getting into a fighting stance. He didn't know whether his son and his friend were really plotting something, but honestly he was beyond caring at this point. This soldier was far too insolent. "Leave them be."

"Go on," Vaenes told Jaespehr. "He needs help now," they already had a meeting place. He would help his father start off the fight, then escape when chaos broke out- it was the only way. He put his hand on the hilt of his sword and began to unsheath it, preparing for battle.

Two against one at the moment, definitely not a fair battle but was it hers? No. She itched to join on the side of the smaller soldier but had no idea what side she was to be on if so. People behind her had begun to speculate what was going on and names were being passed around like beverages. Even more people began to line up, and not just behind the tall redheaded Niendran.

He did not like this at all. His eyes narrowed and the air pulsed around him as the old bones beneath the earth began to stir. Jaespehr hated leaving his lover alone in this, but he wouldn't ruin all their careful planning. With a grim nod he departed from the group, one hand remaining on the hilt of his sword, as the other held Felicite in place over his shoulder. The necromancer headed through the tents and toward the meeting place, giving Lusha one last sneer over his shoudler.

A wicked smile formed on Lusha's face as she took a similar stance as the older man. "I'll go right through you to get him if I have to," she growled at the older man, jerking forward a bit but not acting on impulse just yet. Watching the boys behind the elder man, her anger inflaming inside her as they continued with their rediculous story. Lusha pushed herself carefully and quickly passed the two trying to follow Jaespehr.... "No, not happening."

"I said leave them be," the baron snarled as he lunged forward, swinging his sword at the young soldier, not to actually injure him but to force his attention back away from Jaespehr and keep him occupied.

Vaenes was quick to jump into action. As soon as Sorren lunged forward, that was it. He used his power of empathy to control the emotions in the small environment- it was to aggravate, irrritate, and just generally make someone feel like fighting with their neighbor. And it seemed to work, for not a few seconds later did a fist fight break out off to the left of them.

Black as pitch eyes followed the one that ran off, documenting everything about him for future use. Height, possible weight and looks. She also took in the one he ran off with. This could all prove to be beyond important and she could get into places that most others here could not, just by blood alone. One had held the small group behind her at bay. There was more then just curiosity going on now and people began to yell at each other, or even hit each other. This was not going to end well.

Lusha jerked her head back to the old soldier, losing ground on Jaespehr, as she swung her sword at the other's with force behind it. "So this is how it's going down," she snarled, rage filling up every crevice of her mind as she swung once again at the old man. Lusha forced her sword close enough to graze the older man as she tried to take a swing at the younger gentleman. Glaring at the older man as she swung her sword in his direction again, "Are you sure you want to fight me, old man?"

He hadn't expected the soldier to come back at him so forcefully, but that only fueled his own anger. That and being called an old man. He clashed swords with Lusha, then turned and blocked the attack that was meant for Vaenes. He wouldn't stand for someone trying to attack his son. "I'm not so old. And certainly strong enough to take on some green soldier like you!" he said, thrusting his sword toward Lusha's midsection in earnest this time.

There was no way she could stop tha tmany people from fighting each other and so she let them be. By now both of her swords were drawn, their wickedly curved blades gleaming in the light as she dodged her way over to the smaller soldier. "I have no idea what is going on here but this is definitely not fair." Black eyes bored into the other two males.

Vaenes ducked down. His work was done. The effects of his empathy would wear off as he left, but he would spread the anger and hatred as he ran after Jaespehr, sending the camp into chaos. He would have stayed behind with his father, but he knew that at this point, he was just leverage, and the baron would try to protect him rather than watching his own hide.

"But I'm faster on my feet old man," she said with grandier, as she quickly, though just barely countered his attack to her midsection. Lusha was through with talking, she jerked herself forward her sword swinging full force at the older man before her. A wicked grin on her face, her eyes dark with rage. She was doing this for her country, and she wouldn't stop until she saw the blood of a Carthonian on her blade.

[Sorren Alotear Radvhet]

Another Niendran, a red-headed woman wielding two blades, joined in the fight just before Sorren saw Vaenes slip away out of the corner of his eye. Well, now the tables had turned, but he wasn't about to give up. He blocked Lusha's next attack and pushed his blade against hers, twisting it and trying to get her to lose her grip on the weapon.

Kellan was not much of a racist, she wasn't against Carthonian's really. She had been all over and seen the good and bad of both places. The fight was even but still she wasn't sure why it was happening. Instead of attacking any of them she drew up moisture from the ground and air around her. Forming two large and heavy balls of water. She would use these, soon.

Lusha moaned as his sword collided with hers, the force of his practically knocking her off her feet. Lusha regained herself pushing her blade back into his with just as much force that he had. The harsh grin on her face, the dark look in her eyes, and the fact that she wanted to see this man bleeding with his blood on her sword made her push forward with more force than she had even expected.

Yes, this soldier was green all right, but at least he could hold his own in a fight. Sorren turned his sword aside and ducked out of the lock they'd gotten into, turning to slice at Lusha from the side.

The fight was close and she knew there was no way she could get in there without injuring herself, then again she would heal from it anyway. Instead she concentrated on the balls of water, making them denser by the second. The moment she had to use them would be very painful, for the ones she hit. Probably knock them into unconsciousness. Kellan could not be sure though.

Luckily Lusha had been trained to be quick in countering an attack. She quickly moved as soon as she saw him duck, she flung her sword up, her hands gripping tight. Again, just barely missing the ability to stop him. She jumped to the side, quickly swinging her sword toward the man's midsection while she hoped he was still gathering himself from her jumping away.

Perhaps it was because he hadn't been in a real battle situation for so long, or perhaps it really was the age difference, but somehow the soldier's attack came too quickly for him, slicing along the front of his stomach even as he swung his sword at the other. It was not a life-threatening wound, but it bled, and Sorren pulled back, putting distance between them to gather his wits.

That was it, the injury. She didn't know why but it could not go on and so with a small nod to both of the fighters she released her hold on the water bombs she had been holding. The three foot diameter balls of dense water rocketed toward both Lusha and Sorren, slamming directly into their midsections and lifting them off the ground. They both would go flying in completely different directions and as far as they were light in weight.

To say that Lusha wasn't at all shocked as she was flying in the air suddenly soaking wet after she had injured a certain old soldier, would be far off the spectrum of how surprised by the impact she was. She almost didn't notice that she was hurtling through the air, at a rather great distance from where she had been, until she flipped a few times into the ground, just barely missing several people. All though, she did happen to slow down once she landed at the edge of a tent. Lusha shook her head, trying to regain herself metally and physically as she stood up in an almost drunken state of shock. Shaking herself she slowly staggered off into the direction of her camp.

He'd been so intent on the fight at hand he hadn't really noticed the red-head using her magic until it was too late. One water bomb hit him and threw him several feet into a group of people. The force of it left him dazed and soaked through to the bone, but he managed to shake off his confusion and stand up shakily. The fight was over. Now he just had to get back to his camp before all hell broke loose.

They had hit, she had a feeling they would since the two were distracted. Sheathing her blades she barely was able to get out of the way of the mass of people. There was a lot she could report, and the names she had heard floating around did not bode well. Carthonians, high ranking, fighting with common Niendran soldiers? Peace conference be damned, they were all fools.

[DAENYEH'L TRYSTT CHEVENTALIER]

Sylph was listening to those who spoke of ways to foster peace between the countries. However, it seemed so wasteful, for every point brought up, there was a counter point. They would never see eye-to-eye. So what was the point? He blinked as he heard some yelling near the tent, and watched as one of the guards was told to go outside and see what was going on.



The crown prince of Niendra was seated upright in his chair, trying to focus on everything that was being said. He was trying to be as accommodating as possible, while keeping in mind Niendra's interests and needs. The old and stubborn men taking part in the meeting were starting to get on his nerves. He hadn't quite recovered from the long ride here, and was fighting with himself to remain as patient as possible. Dark blond brows drew together when he heard the commotion outside. He watched with interest as the guard returned.



"A fight has broken out," the man announced, and though he appeared calm, there was a certain wavering in his eyes.

"Fighting? How many of them?" one of the younger members of the council asked.

"...Well... it seems to be spreading..." the man hesitated before answering.

“You're a Niendran, aren't you?" one of the Carthonian nobles stood. "You're obviously plotting something!"

Sylph stood at that. "..." he glared at the others before walking to the back of the tent and slipping out. He wasn't going to put up with this. And if it was true a fight was breaking out, he was going to grab Lyeyden and leave immediately.

Outside, it was much worse than the man had just described. He could see the source of commotion- a large scuffle had broken out, and tents towards the edge of the camp had been set ablaze. The fire would no doubt spread quickly in this environment... he had to get out of there, fast.

And he didn't hesitate to start running towards his tent, darting through the people who were beginning to panic and look for an escape of their own



At the young Carthonian's accusation, the prince snapped and pushed himself to his feet, his chair falling back with a clatter. "Don't make accusations without first looking at the situation and the facts!" He looked livid, and the weather outside reflected his emotional state. Without bothering to wait and listen to the arguments that would bread out, he walked to the entrance of the tent and stepped out into the chaos.

The guards that'd followed him, surrounded the prince immediately, their swords drawn. The camp had gone from "peaceful" to total insanity. When Daenyeh'l caught sight of the fire in the direction of their tents, his heart when cold with dread.

He looked around for any Niendran's that may have been in the scuffle for longer and may have any information. He caught one’s arm as they were running by and asked him what he knew, “Prince Daenyeh’l…I heard that your friend was taken. Or that’s what the rumours are.” Daenyeh’l’s jaw clenched and lightning sliced through the sky.



Sylph saw the lightening flash. "Shit..." he cursed and ducked into his tent, checking to see if Lyeyden was there



Lyeyden was sprawled out on their bed, a pillow over his head. He hadn't been sleeping well since they arrived, and on the road rest had been close to unattainable.



"Lyeyden," Sylph took his arm without much thought, motioning to get the two servants that had accompanied him to gather what they could from the tent. "We're leaving. Now."



Sylph's touch had become almost as familiar as breathing. Therefore he didn't panic when the taller male took a hold of his arm. Lyeyden removed the pillow with his other arm and sat up, "Hmmm?" Then he heard the sound of chaos taking place around them in the cap and he nodded, springing into action. The limber boy got dressed as quickly as possible then pulled on his boots and slung his pack over his shoulder, "Need me to do anything?"



Sylph hadn't brought anything of real value on the road, but if they could salvage some of the things... well... they escaped with what they could- four bags filled with clothes and trinkets. The bed had been something cheap to carry on the road- assembled just inside the tent, and he could always purchase another tent and bed. He didn't want to risk losing Lyeyden, so he pulled the boy close to him, keeping as arm around his waist and walked rather than running.



As they left the tent, Lyeyden rubbed the sleep from his eyes and looked around, "What....what happened?" He'd never been in a battle before, and it was both terrifying and fascinating all at once.



"Don't know. I'm sure we'll find out later," he didn't bother to stop and ask anyone. He was concerned about their safety rather than their curiosity.



Lyeyden nodded and kept close to his lover, looking out for anyone who may try to hurt them. The carriages felt very far away. If someone were to hurt Sylph in any way, Lyeyden didn't know what he would do. He knew how to use a knife sure, but it wasn't much use against swords like the ones used in this battle.



There they were- the carriages. Just a few more steps and... a man fell in front of them, obviously Niendran. He pushed himself up and glared at the couple. There was a sword in his hand, and he expertly rolled to stand up and thrust the sword at them- aiming for Lyeyden.

He didn't have time to think. He just had to act. He let go of Lyeyden quick enough to summon his magic, letting the energy flow through his veins as he brought his fist up from his side and twisted his hand open. A terrifying looking shadow caught the sword in its body and began to fight with the man, who was more than freaked out. He knew the illusion wouldn't last (though he hoped that it twisted the man's neck before disappearing), so he took Lyeyden's hand and ran towards the carriage, sprinting the last short ways until they were inside their carriage.

The servants had been waiting for them, and no sooner had they entered than they took off- the horses galloping at top speed. They were safe... for now.





(The chaos will end in most of the people at the conference dying. While your characters may attempt to interfere, etc. in the end they will need to flee to save their lives. The other alternative is getting knocked out and being mistaken for dead, so they could end up waking up in the wreckage later on.)

[Sorren Alotear Radvhet]

Sorren made his way back through the crowd, pushing past fights breaking out all around. When he finally got back to his camp, he had to break up two of his own men before barking out orders for them to pack up what they could; they would leave while they still could. Soaking wet and bleeding, he ducked into his camp and bandaged up his cut as best he could. There was no time for a healer.

Vaenes was gathering his things. Jaespehr and the unconcious Felicite were no where to be seen. Inside the tent, the atmosphere was eerily calm, Vaenes's power of empathy was still large at work- and he wanted to make sure he would stay safe by making anyone who enterred the room would be serene, not ready to stab him. "Ah, Father you--" his eyes widened as he saw the blood. "What happened?!"

The baron looked up suddenly as he heard his son speak. "That soldier got in a lucky strike, that's all. It's nothing." He tucked in the bandage and put his shirt back down, though it was torn where the sword had sliced through. Then he came forward and put a hand on Vaenes's shoulder. "I'm riding to the capital to tell the king what has happened. I need you to go back to Maesser and protect the city. I can't trust anyone else. I'll be taking a few men with me, but you take the rest."

"Of course, father," Vaenes was still worried about the Baron's wound, but he knew his father would be okay. He supposed he understood now why his father was worried about him when he went on his mission to Crowcalls.

Sorren nodded, then sighed and took his hand from his son's shoulder, then smoothed his curly, wet hair back from his face, the gesture betraying his nervousness. "I'm sorry it has to be like this. I had intended for the first time you assumed more responsibilities to be a happy occasion, but it seems that will not be the case."

At that, Vaenes smiled, just a little. "I understand... don't worry. I will make you proud... but we better get out of here while we still can," he could hear the shouting and the clashes of metal outside of their tent.

"Of course," agreed the baron, his own smile brief. He turned to grab a bag of supplies, then dashed back outside to secure a horse and gather three of his men to journey with him. Even if they rode without stopping, it would still take them a week to reach the capital, and with the chaos breaking out around them, he was anxious to get on his way as quickly as possible.

Vaenes followed him out with his bag. He motioned for the rest of his father's men to follow him. They would meet up with Jaespehr outside of the camp before returning to Maesser.

[Carmine Rihl Haerow]

The young painter had sold his first two paintings within the first two days, and had begun working on a third when a commotion farther out in the camp distracted him. He couldn't see what was going on, but whatever it was seemed to be spreading quickly, tents and things being knocked down and people getting rowdy.

Curiosity got the better of him as he put down his brush and paints and went straight toward the crowd to get a better look at what was happening. As he did so, a group of men locked in a brawl broke through the crowd, knocking him aside, and a tent nearby burst into flame. Other people went running or started fighting amongst themselves. Carmine, a little dazed but unhurt, stood up and looked toward the fire in time to see his own easel and supplies go up in flame.

"No... no!" he shouted, wanting to rush forward and save the old easel that he had had with him practically since he began his apprenticeship, that had withstood travel and beatings. Instead, he backed away in fear, seeing in his mind flashes of his master's studio the night it had burned to the ground. Memories of the burns he had sustained, of carrying his master out of the building, assaulted him as he staggered backwards right into two men in a sword fight. They whirled on him angrily, one of them stabbing him in the side. He fell immediately and they went back to fighting each other.

Carmine crawled painfully away from the camps and the people, one hand holding his side, trying to get a safe distance away from the chaos erupting throughout the peace conference. What on earth had happened? Why was everyone going crazy like this? Reaching a tree and finding it hurt too much to go any farther, he leaned against its trunk and examined his wound. He knew it was already beginning to heal, but it was deep, and he might die of blood loss before it had closed up enough to keep more from spilling out. He could try to accelerate the process, but the effort would likely cause him to fall unconscious, and he didn't want to be out here alone like that. One of the crazy people might find him and kill him before he woke up. So he sat there, hoping his power would work fast enough by itself, trying to ignore the pain shooting through his side.

[Lusha je D'caarre]

She was still dazed and confused from the fight and the collision of the water ball against her midsection. She stood on the brim of the crowd trying to gather herself, her hand on her stomach where she had been hit. Her clothing was soaked, dirt covering almost every inch of her, her hair had fallen out of it's tight up do and had gotten soaked ad dirty with her fall. She ran her hand through it as she continued to walk the brim of the crowd. Her sword tightly in her hand as to quickly defend herself when someone quickly tried to attack her. It did not take her long to find some of her fellow Niendran down and injured, some were dead alongside many Carthonian of the same status. Lusha didn't even bother stealing some of the loot the deceased bodies left behind, she wanted to get out of the chaos before she got hurt herself. Or worse over, dead.

Seeing that many of her fellow soldiers were dead she checked her camp site, though much of it had been caught in the flames, she realized that the Niendran she had come with had left without her. After a strand of heavily accented Niendran curses flew from her mouth she continued to walk, her pace slowly quickening, through the crowd. She knew that she could easily get herself out of here if she went the opposite way she had come in. Though seeing as how much of the campsite was burning to the ground, and with the chaos ensuing, she couldn't quite remember the direction in which she had come. Her mind was bustling, she felt ashamed that she could not save Felicite and return her to the Niendran royal who had brought her here for protection. She did not deserve her title.

Making her way through the crowd, out of the camps, she turned around watching as people ran about fighting as the flames continued to destroy everything they came in contact with. Her eyes fell toward where she had been merely two days ago speaking with a Carthonian painter. She wondered, and hoped, that he had gotten out of this safely with his people. If he hadn't she suddenly felt responsible for anything that did happen to him. Trying to take herself away from the blaze of the fire she turned and continued walking. Dragging her sword behind her, trying to recalculate her steps so she could get safely back to her family.

It almost hadn't occurred to her that she should watch where she was walking, and as she looked up she saw a figure leaning against the trunk of a tree. She could tell this person was alive simply because the being was moving, though she wasn't sure if it was one of her people so she went to investigate. When she came closer she found that it was the painter friend in which she was worried for only a few seconds before. He had been injured, she could see the blood as she moved faster toward him, dropping her sword before falling to her knees beside him. She felt lame for doing such a thing, but she felt responsible for the fact that he had gotten hurt. "Oh Lilith," she sighed before looking at him, "I'm so sorry."

What had she done? It wasn't her fault, she was doing her job. She was trying to protect her fellow Niendran from those wretched Carthonian. She could not help that a fight had broke out... but her new friend had gotten hurt. "I need to help you, in anyway," she was determined, and she would not take his refusal for an answer. Before a refusal could even come she ripped the lowest part of her shirt, just above where she had once been injured during training, and went to wrap it around his injury. Remembering that the cloth would be wet, she whispered, "This may sting a bit." She had to do something to stop the blood loss, she didn't want him dead. If any Carthonian she wanted dead, it would have to be the shoulder she had fought with and the once who had taken Felicite. But nay this painter, Carmine.

For a moment she decided to sit with him, while she hoped the stinging of the wet make-shift bandage and the pain passed. "We need to get you out of here, Carmine." She spoke softly, a Niendran willing to help a friend from the opposing side.

for the pc
word count 709
notes o-o*

[SYNTHIA VI'WIESSRITT]

Synthia could her outside of her tent the rustle and bustle of men and horse moving and shoving throughout the camp. She soon became irritated by it as she never gave any order to move about. She stood from her chair and abandoned the map she was analyzing. As she went towards exit of her tent she could her one of her knights calling to her attention, “Lady Dacktomia! ... Lady Dacktomia!” She turned to the knight and called out in response to his request, “Yes knight what‘s the matter?” She spoke in a strong but curious tone.

“It’s the Conference, my lady. A fight between the Carthonians and Niendrians has broken out and a tower of flame has emerged!” the knight called in return. Upon hearing the report Synthia’s eyes glowed. She turned away from the knight and stormed straight to her horse. Even though she had not been present during the opening engagements she had already made up her mind. Niendrian trickery is the source of quarrel here, she thought. As she made her way to her horse one could notice a dark grin began to cross its way across her face. Inside Synthia a morbid joy was growing. Finally she could experience battle and unleash her potential on her foes. She placed her forward leg on to one of the stirrups and threw the other over her saddle. As she came upright she could see in full view the hellish flames that roared in the distance. The flames danced around the town and surrounding buildings, they also danced in the reflection cast in her blue eyes. Her voice then echoed throughout the camp, “Men to your horses! And heralds to your banners!” The command struck through everyone in the camp. The knights scattered each of their respective horses and equipment. Slowly a great horde of white knights led by a iron countess dressed in black formed outside of the camp.

Synthia turned to her knights, her hair glowing in alight red glaze supplied by the flames in the distance. Her eyes began to grow cold and constant; life was pulled aside for the dark passions of war. “My dear knights! History has given us the first strike!” she proclaimed in a great below. “Niendrians have decided to burn the very attempts we have made for some common ground. So let us help them finish what they started!” The knights roared in applause and cheer at her remarks. “We shall come down upon them like a great hammer of lightening and death!” She continued, her voice becoming more vicious and confident.

“Capture all Niendrians! And if they resist? Kill them all!” As she finished this last and brutal command she turned to the front and ripped her blade from her scabbard. She then flung her arm forward and the horde began to move. First in a slow trot, then a hurried march until the white horde now moved as fast as white clouds in their violent transformations into thunderstorms. Indeed a thunderstorm had emerged, the thunder of the pack of horses in full charge shock the very ground they charged across! Synthia could see the conference ahead and the masses moving within it. Now the morbid joy turned into pure hellish ecstasy, for this is where soldiers feel the most alive, amongst the flames and the alluring possibility of having your steel cut flesh! The mass of chaos came closer and closer until Synthia could spot her first victims. A pack of beings fighting each other in a heap of chaos. Synthia could not make out who was who or who was Niendrian or not. The human being inside of her told her to make an attempt to accurately define foe fro innocent. However, already high on the senses of war, she completely ignored this plea from her conscious. She was not human anymore, she was a monster that fed on war and death. Synthia with eyes glaring, nostrils flaring and her teeth clenched in a grin that only hungry wolves bared began to force all the electricity she could summon and forced it in great arcs of lightening through her blade. Great streaks of blue and bright lightening began to circle her blade. The cracks the made as they came to life then died in the same moment ran through every space in the town. Her own knights began to become concerned that their leader was no longer on sane mind. For to open with one of the Vi’Wiessritter most powerful attacks was unheard of. Synthia's voice could now be heard in great volume.

The people in front of her, civilians, soldiers, Carthonians and Niendrians alike turned and their horror brought everything that saw in terrifying slow motion. What the saw was a black lady astride a large beast engulfed in a storm of lightening charging towards them. But before they could do anything to save them from the oncoming horror a great roar erupted from the black lady. With her mouth fully wide open, her lips torn apart from one another, Synthia unleashed a hellish battle cry ” Rywaaaa- AAAAAAAAAAA!” And from this cry she threw her blade in a great slash across her body and from the arc of the cut a thunderstorm of lightening burst forth in a hellish stampede. The arcs of lightening looked like great blue claws battling one another for supremacy as leader of the pack. Within seconds the claws of lightening grabbed, ripped, cut, burned and killed anything they could engage. People, soldiers, buildings, the street stones even the flames the selves. In fact the thunderstorm momentarily blew the flames aside like some biblical call, the flames divided amongst themselves leaving a path that the white horde blasted through, trampling the corpses and anyone who was still alive. Now having experienced her first blow all reason was cast aside the order to arrest was discarded.

Her eyes a flame with death and war, her hair stained in the blood of her victims and with the intoxicating sensation of the battle charge she cried a final and demon command as her horde fell upon the masses running from the fire, “KILL THEM ALL!”

And so the true for of Synthia Dacktomia Vi’Wiessritter, the White Countess, had been revealed, a form she would soon regret.

[Carmine Rihl Haerow]

He had shut his eyes tight against the pain, but he opened them when he heard someone drop down next to him. He was surprised to see the young soldier from a couple days earlier, the one he had befriended and drawn a picture of. The soldier was on his knees beside the painter, apologizing. A look of confusion came to Carmine's blue-green eyes.

"Lusha... Where did you come from? What are you... apologizing for?" he asked softly in his halting Niendran. He continued speaking as Lusha ripped part of his shirt and used it as a bandage, the painter flinching just for a moment as the wet cloth stung a little. "It is my own fault. I was clumsy. This happens a lot, actually." He laughed slightly at that in an effort to lighten the mood, but ended up coughing up a little blood into his hand. He blinked, somewhat shocked, at that. "Well, that's not good."

"We need to get you out of here, Carmine."

He looked up at the burning tents a little ways away and nodded solemnly. "If you can help me get a... safe distance from the camps, I can... heal myself, but I will er... fall unconscious for a few hours. Will you watch over me then?"

[Lusha je D'caarre]

Lusha sat there watching the man for a moment. She smiled as he mentioned how his clumsiness had gotten him into trouble, often. She remembered him talking about the clumsiness once or twice when they had first met. “Well, Carmine, we should be sure that I teach you how to be less clumsy,” she joked softly at the injured man before he had coughed up some blood. Her heart skipped a beat, for a man that she had met only days ago, she loathed seeing him in pain and bleeding. Lusha honestly cared for him, like he was really a close friend. Then again, he was one of the three or four people that she had gotten close too. She was always afraid that she’d be found out easily so she tried to keep herself away from as many people as possible. It was fear that kept her away, not the fact that she didn’t want to make friends.

Heal himself? Had she heard him correctly? She knew a healer, and he was a close personal friend of hers due to family and the army… but he could only heal others. Was Carmine saying that he could self heal? She couldn’t help but smile at the thought, assuming it was often a God-send with how clumsy he claimed to be. She was in the army and she didn’t even have such a gift. It would be such a helpful thing if she had, but then again, the army taught them not to use their gifts in battle. She had actually almost ignored the fact that he had asked if she would watch over him due to him falling unconscious. So that would actually be a down fall… if Lusha had such a gift. Nodding her head she slowly began to stand, “I will most definitely watch over you, Carmine.”

Taking the arm opposite his injury she slowly lifted him to his feet. Luckily she was stronger than she was a long while ago due to the training she had to go through or she wouldn’t have been able to lift the man with her much smaller frail body. Though, despite her frail appearance, she was quite the strong individual. Lusha slowly moved herself and Carmine the opposite direction of the flames and chaos that was persisting on the camps. She wasn’t sure what to say, or what to do, but she wanted to take his mind off the pain… Though that also depended on whether he needed to concentrate on the wound in order to try healing it. She wasn’t sure, so for a while she stayed quiet as she let the older man lean against her as she walked him far from the camps.

Turning around to look back, all she could see was the rising smoke of the fire. Lusha wasn’t quite sure how far they had walked, though it seemed they had made a pretty good distance for a girl holding up the weight of an injured man. Though it seemed as though it took them forever to even get where they were… Wherever it was. It didn’t look familiar to her, so she knew they were either really close to the border of one of the three countries… Or they were farther than she had thought and at the border of an unfamiliar country, to her. If it was Niendra she would have been able to tell straight away, she knew her home, but wherever they were she didn’t know. Looking up at the taller man she forced a smile despite her melancholy, “Is this good or should we push on a bit further?”

for the pc
word count 608
notes eh, i told you my brain was mush

[Carmine Rihl Haerow]

"Teach to me be less clumsy, yes," he said with a grin, wondering if that was even possible. He had been clumsy for as long as he could remember. Maybe it would lessen as he got older. It didn't really bother him that much anymore, though. It was the injuries as a result of his clumsiness that he minded.

Of course, it was probably his fault for coming to such a big gathering of different countries like this, where tensions were high and anything could happen. He should have stayed where he was in the archduke's manor. But he just couldn't resist the idea of adventure, of travel, of seeing new places and meeting new people. He realized with a pang that he hadn't seen Lord Sylph or Lyeyden at all that day. He hoped they had gotten out all right.

He and Lusha walked quite a ways from the camps. He didn't know where the heck they were. Then again, he wasn't good with directions to begin with. When the soldier asked him whether they should stop, he nodded and sat down with a sigh. The walk had taken a lot more out of him than he'd thought it would.

"Thank you for... looking after me. I should only be out for a few hours," he said, smiling up Lusha. "You are... a good friend."

He struggled to concentrate on his power, placing his fingers on the bandage and closing his eyes. It took about a minute before he felt the pain lessen, and he knew his tissues had healed enough for the bleeding to stop, though it would still look pretty bad for a while. At least now it would not be life-threatening. And with that thought, he passed out cold, slumping over with a rather peaceful look on his face, falling into a deep sleep.