03-14-2018, 07:44 PM
Quote:The 'Viola flashback thread'.
Age: 231 years.
The castle air was cold, still. Moonlight beamed down upon the high balcony and into the open room, bleeding with the fires from below as they dispersed through the gaps in the stone ledge. No clouds sat in the sky, yet few stars were visible that night. Light shone from the raging inferno below, polluting that air in tandem with long grey puffs of smoke, leaving but a small crack above the river untouched, never able to taint the silvery celestial orb.
A shout echoed through the tiled floor, muffled, yet the violent intentions were clear even if the words were not. Two floors down. Perhaps only one. Viola remained tense, observing attentively with every sense she had available. Her feet felt the small tremors through the ground, each gradually increasing in size and volume. Thin wisps of burnt wood - or even flesh - met her fine nostrils with every little breath. She could almost taste it.
Mismatched eyes stared down the barred oaken door. Waiting. Keeping a frail arm cast out to the side to protect her charge and prevent the girl from doing anything rash, she could sense magic swelling behind her, thick and viscous. In fear or anger, the strength of the princess fizzled to the surface. She was barely an adept. Nothing against a trained mage. She was destined to rule. Viola was tasked with protecting her, masquerading as a friend or distant relative. After all, who would expect a little girl to be the real powerhouse of the duo? Her two guards were just for show.
Rachael was fierce. The reality of the situation was not lost on her near-adult mind. Servants. Soldiers. Bakers. Tailors. Blacksmiths. Innocents. The old lady who had given her flowers by the side of the road. The dirty boy who had swept dust and autumn leaves off the pavement to clear her path. The couple who worked at the large tavern she'd waved to on the way to the castle. The maid who had shown her around the castle. All dead. She scowled, then shivered, her teary eyes glossing over two corpses by the side of the room - near a broken lever.
One traitor, and one victim.
More screams ricocheted through the halls, followed by another splintering crack and a stampede of stomps. One door, five soldiers, two royal guards, and Viola. That was all that stood between her and her demise.
"Hold your position." Crystal clear. Viola's gentle voice flowed over the cacophony that sprung from the approaching chaos; its unique - yet constant - pitch distinguished it from the other dissonance, letting her order reach the soldier's ears. Both the royal guards nodded, accepting of her authority; each brandished a halberd. The pointed tips were held high, positioned to skewer the heart of an unlucky foe. The other soldiers, all of which were positioned by the door and protected only with their more decorative lightweight arming swords, spared a glance at each other. A small chorus of 'ayes' followed, out of sync but not lacking enthusiasm. One last stand.
With a crack and fizzle, four cerulean blades hissed into existence, swirling by Viola's side. She gritted her teeth, aggressively pointing all four floating swords at the door. Not today.
Thud.
Rachael jumped, almost letting out a small squeak. Waves rippled through her long golden hair.
Thud.
Viola stepped back, calmly reaching out to the side and curling her small fingers around the princess's sweaty palm. Tugging gently, she tilted her head to the side, making eye contact with the taller girl. "Breathe," she assured, "stay with me."
Thud-creeeeak.
The wood buckled under the strain, splinters exploded into the small hall, mixing with the faint smoke and casting patchy shadows over the floor. Two soldiers stepped forward, struggling and grunting to share the burden with the thick oak bar.
Crack.
The central panel ruptured, a thick metal-tipped log was thrust through the gap and quickly pulled back a moment later, only to slam back into the thick door slightly lower down. Phantasmal orange waves shook through the air, focused through the hole. An explosion of magical energy spawned from battering ram.
Mages.
Enchantments never lasted long, so one had to be close by.
Reaching out with her mind, Viola scanned the mana residue, taking it in. Absorbing it. Reading it. Tasting it with her mind's eye. She knew that signature...
Kra-kow.
Another thunderous strike, smashing the door off its hinges and tearing the bar clamps from the wall. Time seemed to flow in slow-motion as the shattered hardwood tipped, arcing down to the floor. Before it could land, one of the allied swordsmen roared, sprinting into the breach. Steel pierced the throat of an unexpecting foe, then tore out to the side spraying a vivid brushing of blood, like an artist attacking a canvass. Slightly more prepared, the next opponent parried a strike with a loud clang and kicked out. The allied troop stepped to the side, then swivelled his blade to stab down, cleaving into a flap of flesh in the enemy's shin.
... Only for an axehead to snap through his neck.
Shouting, two allied soldiers filled the gap their friend left, slashing in a wild frenzy. The action brought them some space while the frontal enemies dragged their wounded man back. For a moment, the forces stared at each other.
Rachael squeezed Viola's hand tightly. Her mouth opened, letting out a faint cry before she looked down at her friend. Her eyes hardened with fleeting resolve. Without a moment's thought, Viola's swords shot past the friendly soldiers, weaving overhead and piercing through the front of the enemy ranks. Bodies fell to the ground, slowly piling up as the razor-sharp aether-blades spun, turning the hall into a blender and making the enemies look like paper mache. Yet, more filled their place within seconds, crossbow bolts fired from further back to support. Two more allies fell from the first volley, with one of the bolts almost reaching Rachael. With a silent grunt, Viola had torn the steel-tipped spike from the air with her magic, casting it over the balcony.
During her dip in focus, two heavily armoured beasts ploughed past their comrades, hulking in stature. Each armed with a steel shield, the punched into Viola's blades, shattering with a mere bash to the handles. Her swords bounced off them as if the blades were made of rubber. Left out of the combat for precious seconds, the last of the allied garrison fell, trampled, beaten, smashed down into the quaking cracked ground with unnatural force.
Wordlessly, Viola turned around and ran, dragging Rachael with her to the balcony.
Valiantly, the royal guard fought back, slowly retreating to join their liege before holding their position by a set of two steps, using the raised position and narrower entrance to their advantage.
A blue runic circle appeared beneath one of the monstrous men, instantly exploding with small fragments of rock and disintegrating the floor beneath him. He fell, unfortunately standing just on top of the overhang. There was no surviving that fall.
Meanwhile, the halberdiers thrust at the other, using the focused explosion of magic to catch him off guard. The armour was thick, but one point stabbed through the beast's shoulder, finding a small gap in the steel sheets. He grunted, then stumbled to the side to join his ally down below after a small wave of magic shoved him to the side.
Ten. Fifteen. Twenty. Twenty-five. Men flooded into the tower summit.
Whoever the aggressors were, they weren't sparing any expense. Near fanatic in determination. All to assassinate an heir to the throne, Viola assumed.
"Lend me your magic." Viola didn't leave any more warning, or ask for confirmation, although Rachael didn't resist. Gushing like a waterfall, her mana flowed straight through Viola's veins, willingly fueling her with everything the princess could muster. Power welled at the stronger mage's fingertips, distracting her from the clashing of steel, and then the tearing of flesh, as she weaved her spell.
Both guards fell from numerous wounds, unable to hold back the tide, leaving both girls exposed and vulnerable to the enemy force. Coughing and sputtering out clumps of blood, a barely-conscious guard scrambled and clawed, desperately obstructing their murderers as best as he could.
It was too little. Too weak. They never stood a chance.
Swords and axes swung forward, closing in, millimetres from Viola's unmoving flesh-