[Plot] A Moment to Catch Your Breath (ft. Cyrus McRae)

[The Narrator]

𝐀 𝐌𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡​ Samblar winced as he slowly pulled out the long, black spine from his forearm. His fingers, which never shook, were shaking. Pulling the needle out of his felt like a piece of his soul was going with it. Instead of relief from the pain of having a foreign object lodged in his flesh, instead he felt cold—an emptiness that sunk its way into his heart and threatened to swallow the organ whole. He dropped the spine and it landed on the ground next to three others that he'd already pulled from his body. It made a sharp noise, like metal clattering against stone. One more to go. "What in the Ever-Shattering Lady were those things?" Solas hissed. He examined one of his daggers, now corroded and starting to crumble to pieces. He broke off a piece of the knife, cutting his finger in the process, and flicked it aside in disgust. Immediately, his finger started to burn. Elvish steel... how is this even possible? Was I lied to? Did that merchant sell me cheap goods? Solas pushed the thoughts from his mind. But the thoughts returned, gnawing at his mind and threatening to consume his sanity. He shook his head, took a deep breath. What is this chill in my mind? Why can I not calm it? C̶̲̱͙͕̈́͋͊̃͆̒͊̊'̷̫̩̳̣̞͍̅̌̓̓̅̓̈́͠͠ ̷̨̯̱͉̺̬̹̍̅͂̃̚͜l̶̥͙̪̻̭̙͈̓́͋͗ͅl̴̢̙̳͇͙͒͐͋́́̎͋̕͘͝l̶̺͑l̷̘̝̹̅͊̊̚͝ ̸̡̛̜̰͖̪̘̺̦̺̰̀͋͛͆̅̄̅͠͠n̸͍̦̯͓͈͚̊͋̐̆͐o̶̰̪͔̪̹̻͗̒͋̍͆̑̓̚͝͠g̸̞̪̱̈̊̔̽̋̈͗͐͝ ̷̤̥̫̤͎̫̝͈̬͈̈̅́̏͒̚͠ÿ̷̞͙́̈̐̓̇̒͠m̴̨͖͙͖̽͒ġ̵͛̍̏͑͜'̸̨͖̞̮̙̪̰͔̤́́̂̈́̓̓͑̕ ​ Solas rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands, pushing hard until he saw stars and then shook his head. That noise in the back of his mind cut deep. Jastira hadn't said anything since they'd managed to lose their pursuers and make their way into the cave that, once perhaps, may have belonged to a bear. She kept her eyes trained on the old pile of broken bones against one of the back corners of the cave. They looked like they'd been there for decades. She felt tired, perhaps for the first time in her life. She knew what physical exhaustion was—from training, or bouts of passion, or any number of other things—but this was different. Her eyes felt heavy and she wanted to close her eyes, to lie down and sleep. And not wake up. Because the things that were out in the world that she did not want to think of. "Sister?" She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She could just rest here. For a moment. "Sister!" She turned and looked at Samblar, her eyes vacant. The other elf dropped the last spine to the ground and flexed his hand quickly. He looked over at the commander—Vamir hadn't said anything since issuing the command to fall back to the cave, and Samblar had never been particularly good at reading his commander's body language. "Commander... What are we going to do next? Jastira is bordering on non-responsive." He reached over, giving the other soldier a firm shake. Jastira didn't react at all for a moment and then her eyes opened a bit more and her eyes snapped into focus. Samblar exhaled. He'd never seen his brothers and sisters in such a state.

​

Beyond the cavern, the lands were corrupted. The beautiful mountains and lush green forests of Tethis were long behind the patrol of elves, and all there was now was a sickening green sky. The lands were not right, something had corrupted them, and within the shadows that lurked beneath every rotten tree, things moved. There was a slowly building mass, close to where the cave was, pulsating and writing just out of sight. Tendrils of dark slime, covered in eyes and mouths, snaked along the rotten dirt of the ground. It made a noise, a screeching wail of a sound—pathetic and horrifying—that filled the air and reached deep into the cave nearby.

 

[Cyrus McRae]

In the shadows of the moon, the light came like the hope found with the souls of the weary- here one moment, and gone the next. Swallowed by the billowing black clouds of ill intent that strummed above. There was a storm brewing. A storm to which the likes Vamir had never seen before. Within the cataclysm came the creatures. A mass of wildly flailing arms, jagged teeth, multiple tongues. It made him shudder with digust. Maybe that was why he stood posied at the entry unmoved. Unblinking. For each and every time he shut his eyes, the nightmarish creatures returned with as much full force as each of their assaults. Even now, a deep inhale was drawn in to stave away the inhuman groaning, clacking of teeth, and the guttural shrieks that announced their prescience.

Who were they? What were they to begin with?

Vamir had ventured across these lands several times over. A veteran of many stealth and subterfuge operations commenced in the name of the Shattered Lady and preservation of the Elvan ways and all things as such. But this? This new threat nearly broke his tried and tested spirits. Already as his worn eyes drunk in the landscape, it was clear that Tethis was broken, and bending to the will of this ominous presence that chose to live here. Never before had there been a more clearer sign that this small contingent of Elves - people of the lands themselves were no longer welcomed.

Those who rallied behind him spoke amongst themselves. Vamir kept turned in for the sake of his sanity and their own. With the summon, their commander's now tattered cloak had slowly spun around, catching the still breeze to face those on their last legs. The finest Elves he's had the pleasure of serving with throughout his many years now reduced to this. It was a fools errand to continue on in this shape. Better to live to fight another day with new knowledge than to die here cowering in a hole.

Vamir walks inwards towards the group, tossing away the one proud long blade used to cut down plenty of foes. It's tip managed to catch the receiving end of what he could only guess was some sort of acid or other corrosive and melted. Eating the gleaming steel as if it were nothing more than wood for termites before settling, steaming, and hissing as the action cooled. It clanged softly within the hollowed hole, yet loud enough to get everyone's attention.

One by one his touch found the shoulders of the weary. Sure, he was their commander, but there was a larger voice in showing humanity in moments like than verses heated, rallying words. First Solas, then Samblar, and finally Jastira. Jastira was the one who had the commander's gaze the longest. "We" Vamir began. "Are weary." The commander glanced over his shoulder towards the others, face twisting in pain to help speak his next words into existence. Words any commander worth his weight dreaded to say. "We are beaten. We've been bested. But it is only a battle." A lengthy finger points to his discarded useless sword. "It is only equipment. We still have our lives. Armed with the knowledge that may help prevent those who cannot defend themselves from falling victim to this... blight even just for a little longer."

Vamir turned away from everyone and now faced the entry. His feet heavy at the mere thought of venturing back out into the nightmare lands, but death search for them. He would sooner die in combat rather than die being trapped in a hole. "I do not think the Shattered Lady has condemned us just yet. I have faith she will see us protected." After another pregnant pause, he turns to the group again and draws his bow while the only usable sword of the twin blades was kept nestled tightly within it's sheath.

"We begin the perilous journey home."

Spoiler: Commander Vamir

 

[The Narrator]

"We begin the perilous journey home." Solas felt the tingle in his finger start to spread slowly up his finger and into the knuckle. Have I gone and gotten an infection, he wondered to himself as he closed his eyes and tried to slow his breathing and his heart. Remember all the decades of training. He took a deep breath, letting the damp air fill his lungs. Commander Vamir was right, the journey would be perilous, surely there were more of those blasted things out there, waiting for them to come out of the caverns and out into the open. From where he stood he could see a bit into the distance, but after a while the fog thickened and discerning anything meaningful out of the shadows and shades of nothingness bordered on impossible. He flexed his hand, gave it a shake, and rested it on the sword that hung in the leather scabbard at his hip. Ÿ̴̛̜̜̜̜̱͚́͆̎̎̀̐͌̕͜m̵̧̨̛͓̯̥̈̇̏̋͘͜g̴̨̛̭̯̔̀̐̔̎̈́͌͠ͅ'̶̫̜̟͇͙̹̯̫̏̂͊͗̊̕͘͘͘͝ ̵̭̭͍̥̥̲̣̥̫̄̍̔̊͋͑̅̔͘ã̴͉̻͓̲̮͍̄̂͗̒͂͊̔͆̎͜ȟ̵̝̠̙̹̝̮̹̝̥̒̀̊͊̒ ̶̡̪̠̣̯̼̮̓̐̈́̀́͐͒̄̂̀m̸̧͍̪͖͉͍̣͎͇̿̋̓͆g̸̡͖͈̖̦͔̳͔̭̺͒͂̀͑̓̀̿͋̋͘ǧ̶̖̼͎̂ͅǫ̶̙̙͇̪͔͈̖͙̹̀k̸͎͉͙̔̓̃͌͘a̶̢̫̥͐͒̓͑̅̀̕̚͠͝'̸̨̼͐̿̉a̴̡̡̬̼̝͔̟͔̦̣̒̌̓̒̃̌̒̽͝i̷̛̫͌̂̈́̄̓́́̾̕ ̶̤͔͖̠̟͍͈̰͙̆͌̆y̴̧̯̤͙̳͇̤̑̔̃a̵̧̺̹͋͒͑͋​ "Yes," he said out loud, albeit quietly. He shook his head and looked around, as if snapping back from a dream within a dream. He caught Jastira staring at him, her lips moving slowly. Had she said the words? Was it her that was pushing her way into his mind? It can't be, he decided—the quiet sliver of doubt continued to bury itself into his brain though, opening the wound and suspicions wider rather than helping to seal the wound. He took another look at the catatonic woman as she slipped between lucidity and vacant, seemingly at random. Samblar nodded at the commander and then turned to look at Solas. They exchanged a long look before he gestured at Jastira and Solas nodded. They walked over, and reached down, picking her up by slipping their arms under hers and sharing her weight between them. She was muttering something, a quiet babble—sounds without meaning. A dry and dark laugh for a moment and then she found herself aware and conscious. "Thank you," she said, looking at the two of them. Solas reached under his cloak and pulled out another dagger that he flipped in his free and and checked the weight on. Satisfied, he looked at Commander Vamir. He nodded at the older elf, and adjusted his body to account for the weight of Jastira. "It is fine, brother," Solas said. "I have her. I can carry her weight." "Are you sure?" Samblar asked. Solas nodded. y̴̟̲̞̥̞͈̅͛̐̈͗̑͝͝m̶̧͚͚̤̏̾ĝ̶̥̣̥̦̹͎̥̇͒̎̈́̉͋̒͠'̷̧̡̪͕̰̫̮̜͙̻̽͆̌̄̏͐̿̈́͠͝ ̷͎̳̜̟̜̘͎͔̯͒̇̔͋͌̊͊̓̚a̷̛̛̲̝͚̞̮͌̇͗̍̊̔̅͐͜h̵̡̜̘̦̙̱̥̭̺̾̇͆̔̚͠ ̴̨̼̫͓̣͉̻̏̐̋̂͐s̴̛͙̬͊́̏̓̽̓̓̍͝i̵̯̤̤̯͚̟͖͖̜̇̐́̀̽͒̅͝ŕ̵̗̼̏e̴̺̟̅̂̇, the voice asked.​ "Yes," Solas answered. "We're ready, commander. Lead the way."

 

[Cyrus McRae]

Solas took a deep breath, the weight of Jastira's limp body in his arms reminding him of the gravity of their situation. As he adjusted his grip on her, he glanced over at Samblar, the unspoken understanding passing between them. They were a team now, bound by the challenges they faced and the trust they had forged in the crucible of their mission. There could be no more room for error as any slip up at all would cost them the little remaining life they clung to desperately.

Commander Vamir's gaze met Solas's, and despite the uncertainty that lingered in the air, Solas felt the smallest glimmer of determination. He had trained for moments like this—moments where lives depended on his strength and resolve. Despite never combating enemies of the type before, a fight was still a fight. The cryptic words echoing in his mind. There was a nagging in the back of his head. Whispers of doubt and something else. Something he couldn't quite put his finger on. Ultimately Solas settles on just a single word: sinister.

"It is fine, brother," Solas reassured Samblar, his voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through his veins. "I have her. I can carry her weight."

Samblar hesitated for a moment, concern etched on his features, but then nodded in reluctant acceptance of Solas's decision. Together, they bore the weight of their fallen comrade, their footsteps falling in sync as they moved towards Commander Vamir. The background of the husk of their lands they used to know so well waiting for their departure in unspoken anticipation. Everyone felt the tension in the air.

As they moved forward, Solas tightened his grip on the dagger hidden beneath his cloak, a silent reminder of the dangers that lurked in the darkness around them. Jastira stirred slightly in his arms, her mutterings a haunting reminder of the ordeal they had all endured.

"Thank you," Jastira's voice broke through the tension, gratitude mingling with exhaustion in her words.

Solas glanced at her briefly, offering a reassuring nod before returning his focus to the path ahead. The voice in his mind whispered once more, a cryptic echo that he couldn't decipher amidst the urgency of their retreat.

There was a pregnant pause as the group gathered before whom would lead them through this endeavor. "We're ready, commander. Lead the way." Solas says. Vamir drew a deep breath and held the air in his lungs for a breif moment before nodding and turning.

A shimmering object gleamed in the low light. Sharp and pointy in nature before croning to the right then left of the cave mouth ready to pierce the hide of whatever stubborn beast wanted to try getting the jump on them. Yet no mark could be found for the arrow to make it's new home into. A slight nod was given and Vamir steps out into the open. Each step calculated as if the ground's features were taken in before each footfall to be sure the earth did not become too disturbed with their passing.

Samblar on pulled close guard duty by staying slightly to the rear of the duo so their flank and rear were being looked after. His keen senses alerting him each time they progressed forward to enable him to also move up. Cover to cover would be slower, but it was their best bet to stay undetected for as long as possible.

That didn't stop the unnerving sounds of the new creatures that made their homes here. Chittering in the distance, a hiss that was carried in the wind, bubbling from the pits filled with gunk of unknown origins.

Well into their journey of making some headway through the lands, Vamir hunkered down next to a dead tree and took a knee. Naturally the others followed suit. Around the thick trunk laid yet another patrol of the demons. Five in total similar to the ones faught earlier on. A number of arms growing from behind them, a slew of eyes covering the leather like flesh and a vertical mouth that ran up majority of it's body. The row of murderous sharp and jagged teeth made a chill run down Vamir's spine. Let them pass, then move on.

Solas had exchanged places with Samblar to support the fatigued Jastira. Her condition was worsening and she had begun to developed a fever. Aid needed to come and soon. There was no time to waste but there was safety in being sure verses simply sprinting things out.

Finally after much waiting and hunkering down, the demons began to move. Vamir now had his bow trained on the departing demons, signaling the regroup. Samblar gripped his comrade tighter and began to quickly and quietly advance towards his commander when the unthinkable happened: whatever malady had sized Jastira had caused her to speak quietly to herself in a raised voice. Samblar felt his heart drop and tried to cover her mouth but not before she could get out a crazed laugh out. That single note had captured the attention of their enemies.

Vamir, Solar, and Samblar went pale. Due combat was now imminent and no one was ready for a second round with the Elves already outnumbered. There was no point in being silent anymore as the quiet 'woosh' of the arrow sailed through the air making contact. That's when Vamir gave the order:

"To arms! Don't let them get behind us! If two of us fall then the rest retreat!"

Retreat. Words Vamir in the duration of his life had never said twice in one day.

It was a day of firsts, after all. Just as it was a day of lasts too.

 

[The Narrator]

Vamir, if he was scared, we better at hiding it than the others. Jastira, still a mind shattered by something that she had seen, wavered between moments of lucidity and despondency. There was a way that she muttered quietly, in those little moments of being detached, that truly started to ennerve Solas. What was it that she was saying? Was she saying something to him? He felt the pain in his hand grow, and he settled his hand on the pommel of one of his daggers to steady it. He flexed his hand, the fingers wrapping around the leather-wrapped weapon. He felt like when he closed his fingers tightly around the blade, the pain in his hand subsided for a moment. With his other arm, he held it under Jastira's arm and helped her stay on her feet. H̸̛̺͚̎̃̀͒͗͊͋̅͘'̷͇̿̓̀́̏̈́ ̶̗͍̐̈̒͋̐̓̈̈̐y̷̳̞̱͇̺̬͈͛̅̒̈́͊̓͆̇͜͝ͅm̶̧̮̦͕͖̏̈́̈́̔̉̒̓̄͒ͅg̷͖̦̙̲͛̈́̐̋͘'̷̮̪͗̔́̑̈́͘ ̴͕̬͍͙̥̲͑̂̓̍̈́͛̾͜͠g̵̛͚̔̏̈́͠o̷̟͍̭͓̼̲̹̤̳͊̉̏̈́͗͌͋̿́͘t̶͍̘̅̄̃̍́͋̈͐̚h̵̡͈̏̊͘͝ą̵͚̠͖̞̱̹̮̆͠ ̴͚͗̌͐̈́̕̕ḿ̵̛̛̖̅̾̇g̴͎͓̻͈̰̞̦͆̿̽͆̔͘̕l̶͇̲̬̰̜̫͔͉̥̈́̈́̈̏̃̄̿ẃ̷̡̱̦̱̂͜'̷̛͕̹̯̦͖̘̈́͋̍̓͋͌̑̌n̴͍͇͈̞̓̽̒̇͜͝ȁ̴̱̑̍̂̋̏͘͝f̵̪̞̤̅̒̏͘ḩ̸̺̠̳̰̗̜̘̝̿̾͛̅̔͑̃̋͘̚ͅ​ The voice in the back of his head was louder. More pressing. It wanted to be heard. Worst of all, perhaps, it was starting to make sense. He kept his hand on his weapon. The chittering sound of the creatures nearby made Solas start and he turned in that direction. "To arms! Don't let them get behind us! If two of us fall then the rest retreat!" Vamir said. He was still ready for a fight, and Solas wasn't sure if Jastira would be able to. He turned to look at her, and found her looking back at him. Something queer and strange in her eyes. A shine and vigour that hadn't been there before. In fact, Solas wasn't sure if he'd even seen that look in her eyes. She stared at him and smiled. "It's all over for you," she said darkly. His hand twitched. H̸̛̺͚̎̃̀͒͗͊͋̅͘'̷͇̿̓̀́̏̈́ ̶̗͍̐̈̒͋̐̓̈̈̐y̷̳̞̱͇̺̬͈͛̅̒̈́͊̓͆̇͜͝ͅm̶̧̮̦͕͖̏̈́̈́̔̉̒̓̄͒ͅg̷͖̦̙̲͛̈́̐̋͘'̷̮̪͗̔́̑̈́͘ ̴͕̬͍͙̥̲͑̂̓̍̈́͛̾͜͠g̵̛͚̔̏̈́͠o̷̟͍̭͓̼̲̹̤̳͊̉̏̈́͗͌͋̿́͘t̶͍̘̅̄̃̍́͋̈͐̚h̵̡͈̏̊͘͝ą̵͚̠͖̞̱̹̮̆͠ ̴͚͗̌͐̈́̕̕ḿ̵̛̛̖̅̾̇g̴͎͓̻͈̰̞̦͆̿̽͆̔͘̕l̶͇̲̬̰̜̫͔͉̥̈́̈́̈̏̃̄̿ẃ̷̡̱̦̱̂͜'̷̛͕̹̯̦͖̘̈́͋̍̓͋͌̑̌n̴͍͇͈̞̓̽̒̇͜͝ȁ̴̱̑̍̂̋̏͘͝f̵̪̞̤̅̒̏͘ḩ̸̺̠̳̰̗̜̘̝̿̾͛̅̔͑̃̋͘̚ͅ​ "I am going to cut you open and feed your entrails to the things out there in the shadows." She was still smiling. While Samblar was drawing his weapon and moving closer to Vamir, Solas found himself drawing his weapon and driving it into Jastira's chest. She laughed, spat blood on his face, and he drove the dagger into her chest again. And again. And again. v̵̛̼̞̏͒u̴͙̥͕͗̑̆̅̎͛l̵̨̯̥̱̫̫͍̱͑͊̓̈́̋͂̕̕͝ğ̷̞̝̞ţ̷͎̬̯̟͕̺͉͓̂̓̆̈́͌̌̚m̶͎͎̠͉̩̈̍́n̴̢̛͔̯̖͉̜̖͕̒̅̈́̈́̃̃̇ͅa̶̡͍̰̣͇̺̥̎͋̓̒̆̾͐̏͜͝h̸̻̙̪̞̪̱̳͍̑̀͆͊͂́͝​ He couldn't stop. He didn't want to. What was happening to him? He tried to stop himself, letting go of Jastira and letting her fall to the ground but his body moved on its own, and he was on top of her. He thrust the blade up under her chin into her head and she smiled. The blade shone between her teeth. She laughed again, a horrible burbling sound. Solas tried to grab his hand to stop it, but he couldn't. Panic filled his mind. Something inside hm shattered. He grabbed another dagger from his belt and grit his teeth as he sawed off his hand.