❪ event ❫ khalo? can you hear me?

[natha]

In normal circumstances, this would have been near the time in which you're called upon to greet the newly awakened. Unfortunately, I speak to you to inform that we must postpone that — there is trouble on your horizon. What, I cannot see for sure. We shall continue to monitor the situation, however — we - ... we — [feed cuts off.] OLYMPIAN PRESERVATION     The city of Olympia is preparing the send-off of its most prized artifact: the heart of the ancient dragon, Ysverai. In doing this, they've transformed the palace court into an exhibition detailing the centuries-old war between Wyver and Olympia. Sculptures of Nithor the Exalted and his men and women in clean, white marble, while their armors are polished in perfect gold. Among Nithor are the sculptures of stallions in all shapes and sizes that also aided in the great war. Further in the exhibition, one may also find other artifacts of much older weaponry, rusted by its time in the earth, and items found from a time when humans feared the dragons. The Royal Guard has increased its numbers in wake of such a public event, particularly because the heart will be in display also. The heart is not what one might expect it to be: about the size of an average human, the heart's core is surrounded in stone, a red glow emitting from its still beating core. If that were not unsettling enough, one might also find that lingering around this particular exhibit will have undue affects on one's inhibitions. You'll notice your heart has fallen into sync with the organ, and your more selfish desires will come forth. Things that have long been buried will rise up and place you in a state of unease, encouraging paranoia about your companions intentions. Allow it to fester, and one will carry this feeling with them long after you've left the scene. It's probably a good thing this is leaving Olympia — perhaps it's a source of so much conflict you've endured. It's easy to become mesmerized by all the historical artifacts that are present in Olympia's exhibition. Some even seem mystical or, like Ysverai’s heart, to hold unspeakable powers. Others are just a little eerie. Either way, Olympia prides itself in its generosity and their grand displays, and so refugees are urged to learn more about their artifacts by spending the night in Palace Court. Though, someone should probably mention that there are rumors of strange, almost occult things happening around these relics at night. People speak of armored soldiers casting shadows that have the ability to walk on their own, or gemstones that catch the moonlight in a certain way and show you visions. But those are just silly ghost stories, right? TALL TALES OF KHALO VILLAGE     Because of Khalo's proximity to Wyver, it's no surprise that they would catch wind of the peace talks between Wyver and Olympia. In response, for the first time in centuries, Khalo Village has willingly granted passage to outsiders — but visitors will immediately find out that one cannot just simply walk into the village. Visitors will need to inhale the smoke of a fyrra herb in order to enter the premises without falling into slumber. Khalo is notably different than what refugees are used to. Visitors, specifically refugees, will find that they are exceedingly accommodating. The Khali are very intrigued by the outsiders, thus they're treated with much respect and given instant access to some of the best lounges and fyrra the village has to offer. In exchange, the village is interested in hearing about your journey thus far. Whether it be through a conversation with another individual or the Khali themselves, they'll very likely to have been eavesdropping and recording the tales of their exploits. Why, exactly? Perhaps it will not be immediately clear, but if you happened upon a venasou, a tamed Khali creature, it may have guided you to their Enchanted Library. Upon entering the library, visitors will notice that it is quite the happening place — but not because it's occupied by the Khali, but because there seems to be an assembly of magical quills seemingly writing on their own. The quills are mostly undisturbed by the intrusion and will not stop writing even if parchment is taken from it; it will simply produce another piece of paper and continue its tales. If you happen to read the parchment, you may notice that there is a daunting similarity between your story and the ones being written here. Tales of Thesa birthing new races and sending them from the sky, for example, are very popular in Khalo Village. They mark July 15th as the day in which the Moon Goddess, Thesa, created more people in her image and brought them to El Nysa as saviors. The coincidences don't end there: specifics about your home world might be found in the writings if you search deeply enough — but it's not without its exaggerations. These stories are given all sorts of poetic and literary forms, from short stories to limericks, biographies to something similar to haiku. If asked, the Khali will inform visitors that the enchanted library has access to vague parts of your memories, and thus it is duty-bound to record. The Khali have not seen stories as strange as the ones being made by refugees, which is largely why they are interested in them. NOTE: This is entirely optional! You may make up your own "stories" (fanfiction) and it could be as accurate or inaccurate, or as serious or silly as you'd like. While tales of the Thesa's descendants are still being written, visitors of the Enchanted Library might find intrigue in the more complete works — KING AND KIN. If one is willing to delve deep, they may also find parts of Wyver's past that have been removed from their own archives. These pages will recount the tales of Shanrian and Rasyc. Though a lot of the narrative seems to divide at certain points in the story, it becomes obvious with some quick reading that Rasyc is not only the son of Shanrian, but that he glorifies the Wyver of old, more bloodthirsty and brutal than it is today. Unlike his father, he does not take kindly to Olympia and the threat they will always pose for their people. He has not forgotten Olympia's past sins and he believes that, in his foolish quest for peace, the king has gone soft and no longer possesses the real will to fight. His present voice in affairs of state is not a loud one, as he chooses to speak in whispers and move in the dead of silence. In these quiet murmurings, he boasts of his unwavering belief in the power and dignity of his people. Of how they should all return to what they once were — the kingdom, its citizens, and naturally the father who he had once admired greatly. Though perhaps it can be argued that any estranged son would wish the same. It's difficult to pinpoint what becomes political and what is and always will be more personal for him. But, it hardly matters. It's clear that Rasyc will stop at nothing to achieve his objectives, even if it means never returning to place he calls home. Even if it means turning his back on his own father, Shanrian, King of Wyver... DRAGONFIRE. While tales of the Thesa's descendants are still being written, visitors to the Enchanted Library might find intrigue in the more complete works. In particular, tales of Ysverai, the last of Wyver's great high dragons. Ysverai is most commonly known for being slain by Olympia’s past king and legendary hero, Nithor, but here in Khalo he is depicted in another light. Ysverai is known to the Khali people as a wise being, old as the first inhabitants that walked El Nysa. The creature spoke in the common tongue to the early settlers, guiding them to refuge when his kin began to dominate the land at the cost of its own isolation. It ultimately becomes a tale of sacrifice, for its stand with Nithor became a testament against the Olympian Empire's long reaching influence. At the bottom, there is a quotation: Your hearts will fill with greed and malice the moment my own stops beating. Take care in the Eye of the Storm. Find strength in one another, before it is too late. It seems to end there. Refugees are naturally allowed to question the natives. However, keep in mind that many of their replies will seem more like speculation than fact. But maybe that can be fun too? If you have no interest in the library and the tales they've woven, feel free to explore any of the other areas of interest. Khalo Village is thrilled to be open for you all. THOSE THAT SEEK PEACE, AND THOSE THAT SEEK --     The morning of the 20th is marked by fairly dismal weather. The sky is overcast and a downpour seems imminent. Regardless of the poor forecast, those who signed up to assist in this mission will be required to come early in order to receive their briefing. Members of Group A: ▸ Jon Snow (song_of_ice) ▸ Daenerys Targaryen (dorzalta) ▸ Loras Tyrell (triplerose) ▸ Terra (earthy) ▸ Alisaie Leveilleur (adelphoi) ▸ Solider: 76 (personalwar) ▸ Ardyn Izunia (daemonized) ▸ Mai(maipokerface) ▸ Olivier Armstrong (wallsofbriggs) ▸ Atsushi Nakajima (gekkajuu) Members of Group B: ▸ Kale (kaleorbekaled) ▸ Diana Prince (wondie) ▸ Pheonix Wright (objectionattourney) ▸ Revolver Ocelot (shashka) ▸ Frederick (pebblestone) ▸ John Sheppard (impavid ▸ Ianto Jones (torchwoodteaboy) ▸ Lena Oxton (quevarly) ▸ Allura (quintessent) Due to the rain, members of Group A will have to immediately stop by the checkpoint at the East Watchtower. Additionally, the Royal Guard and Knightryders are well-prepared with extra cloaks for those who may require it. They also will provide basic refreshments such as water and bread. People are encouraged to take what they need prior to their departure on this mission. The checkpoints are a bit far between, after all. Members of the envoy will also be encouraged to utilize this time to become familiar with one another. Maybe some introductions are in order? You never know who will end up having your back... For both groups, the paths will be relatively straightforward with evenly spaced checkpoints along the way. The only issue seems to be the downpour, really. The rain is unforgiving and the roads easily become unstable and increasingly difficult for the carriage to be drawn through. Hence, there may be more than one occasion where you will be expected to lend a hand in prying out its wheels from a particularly pesky (and muddy) pothole. Or perhaps you will be called upon by a fellow guard to assist in getting a particularly stubborn creature out of the path ahead of you. Seems like it may be a longer journey than you expected. Dirtier, too. While weathering the conditions may have been a bit tiring, this journey isn't too bad, right? Well, maybe not. GROUP A. Once the carriage gets through the worst of the terrain and finally manages to depart from the watchtower, it won't be long until the group is met with a physical roadblock. A large tree trunk will be set down the center of the road, acting as a blockade. But, before the group can react or begin crafting a plan around this obstruction, the carriage will be attacked without warning. At first, it's unclear where the attack comes from or from whom, but you don't have the leisure to deliberate this. You hear one of your fellow guards mention something about bandits frequenting these parts, but maybe there's more to it? Either way, your task is clear: protect the artifact, Nithor's skull, and fight the bandits off. You'll be encouraged to try and capture them so that they may later be turned and questioned by the authorities. GROUP B. With clear motives to restock and collect a few more materials for the carriage, it's evident that the envoy will appear restless to arrive at the second checkpoint. However, despite their unspoken delight at seeing the South Outpost from a distance, it's clear something has gone awry. There will be several hooded figures awaiting them right where the mud path meets the cobblestone of the Outpost's road. Soon, several more of these figures will come to flank them from both sides. While they seem like bandits, at least from their physical appearance, there is something far more polished in their movements. They will be attacking the envoy in concise, practiced formations. For those who are more perceptive, it becomes obvious that they are moving around and acting as decoy to one central figure. This member is likely the "leader" of their group, but no matter how one may try to close the distance between themselves and this mysterious leader, someone will constantly get in the way of that. The fighting also seems to act as a distraction since by the time everything is cleared up... only two things are missing. The leader of this group of bandits and more importantly — Ysverai's heart. NOTE: Those RNG'd to thread out the capture and questioning of the bandits will have starters below. For everyone else that signed up, you will still have the opportunity to capture the assailants even though they were not selected to thread the interrogation; you are free to make up your NPCs with the same basic guideline: they will not reveal their motive or their organization. You may turn them in to authorities (Wyver or Olympia or otherwise) or find creative ways to get rid of them. FINAL OOC NOTE     To reiterate: you may use this log as a general mingle for everything from the May Outline, including all Khalo Village activities. In other words, your top-levels don't necessarily have to be related to the prompts written here. An AC-eligible thread in which your character participates in anything mentioned in the May Outline and/or Khalo Village location page may be submitted for 2 REP POINT FOR EITHER OLYMPIA OR WYVER. SUBMIT THE THREAD FOR OLYMPIA OR WYVER HERE OR HERE RESPECTIVELY BY June 10th 11:59 PM EST. For those who participated in this month's plot-related portion, to receive IC recognition for it, a summary of the thread must be submitted HERE by June 8th 11:59 PM EST. Please direct all queries to the question thread below. Thank you, and have fun! QUICK NAV premise ● faq ● lore ● map ● npcs ● bestiary taken ● atp/emp ● application ● rep/acp ● quest bulletin calendar ● hiatus/drops ● modbox [ FULL NAVIGATION ] elnysa nysalogs nysaisles nysaooc elnyan

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ARDYN IZUNIA

[nysan]

[ The hooded assailant Ardyn pursues is seems to be one of intense focus. He is quick, nimble, maneuvering between his fellow bandits with careful precision — and necessary precision. It becomes abundantly clear that the man’s primary task is to escape with Nithor’s skull, as he targets only the guards around the caravan.

He slits a guardsman’s throat before he could cry for reinforcements from the ongoing battle, throwing open the door of the prize carriage. The glass casing surrounding the skull shatters shortly afterward, leaving the thing exposed and easy for the taking — yet the bandit’s hands still around it. He swallows.

Whatever will that brought him here seems to have left him when face with the artifact, and being consumed in whatever thoughts it has brought on, he leaves himself more vulnerable than he realizes.]

[daemonized]

[It is easy enough to avoid the body of the fallen guardsman, a quick step over him as his boots make contact with damp ground, Ardyn's grin wide and his focus squarely on the bandit before him. It becomes obvious what his focus is, with only a moment of keen observation -- he is going for the skull, and something in Ardyn's chest bursts with excitement. How novel, that this man thinks that he can outrun him.

But he needn't even use his magic, he needn't even warp close to him to catch up. The smashing of glass and the skull is exposed, but hesitation blossoms in his target, and it is just enough for him to close the gap -- the sword he holds in his hand is gleaming in grey sunlight.

Ardyn leaps forward, blade flashing. A kick at the back of the bandit's knee is all that he does right now, for he figures skewering him in too might be too hasty, if he wants to harvest a few answers from this man.]

What's the hurry? Stop and chat a while.

[nysan]

[ The expectation to be skewered then and there overwhelms the man for a moment, his chest rising and falling in quick intervals and his hands raised around the sword like he would have made some attempt to stop it with them. But longer he gazes upon the blade the more he comes to still, accepting his position. He raises one hand, reaching to remove his hood with the other. ]

You do not seem one for idle chatter.

[daemonized]

[Ardyn's smile is often sharp, angled like a predator's. It is no different this time, a cold thing, acute at the edges. Nearly as sharp as the edge of his blade, a gleaming longsword, brought close to the other's neck. A gentle pressure, but a threat nonetheless.

His eyes track over his features, his expression.]

Hmm. You'd be surprised just how talkative a man I can be, when presented with the right topic. What of yourself?

[nysan]

I suppose it depends. For instance, if my conversation partner plans on killing me... I may not.

[ His expression is mixed — one that would like to be difficult to read, but has far too many tells beneath the surface to be so. His jaw is set tight, lips thin, but his eyes continue to dart between Ardyn and the shattered glass behind him. He takes a deep breath. ]

Are you going to kill me, Ardyn Izunia?

[daemonized]

[Ah, and how a brow hikes up at that, the mention of his name passing by this stranger's lips.]

You have me at a disadvantage. I don't have the pleasure of knowing who you are, after all. How very embarrassing.

[But Ardyn has lived too long to not read those little tells flitting under the man's expression. A taut jaw, an anxious look from his prize back to himself. He wonders if this is a man who will dart away like a frightened rabbit as soon as an opportunity presents itself.]

As for your question, that depends on you. Are you going to run off like a thief in the night, with your grand prize in-hand? It would be my duty to stop you by any means necessary.

[nysan]

[ It would be a quick death, to cut his own throat on the broadsword or make another rash decision. The glass from the broken case is within arm's reach, and judging by his previous skill, he'd be quick enough to at least lodge a piece somewhere into Ardyn before he goes. The man seems to contemplate this for a moment, but instead boldly moves to push the blade from his throat himself. ]

I will not, if we can come to an agreement. [ He answers with certainty, but there's still a certain tension in the way he carries himself. ] My name is Zain. I am a member of the recently dissolved Mythi's Fangs.

[daemonized]

[There is almost a mote of surprise that passes by Ardyn's expression at the boldness of someone touching the blade to push it aside. How easy it would be to bring it forth and cut this man down for being so bold, and yet Ardyn must admit that he's both slightly impressed and intrigued by all of this.

He gives a hum of consideration, lowering the sword, though his grip still remains steady on its pommel.]

Very well, Zain, ex-member of Mythi's Fangs. Tell me of what you would have me agree to.

[nysan]

[ He takes the opportunity to take up the skull with haste, rising to his feet shortly afterward. Both hands rest beneath it, one seeming to be clenched around something held under it. Rather than call attention to it, he clears his throat. ]

It is my duty to create a distraction. Allow me to fulfill my task, and I will tell you what plans lie ahead.

[ He resembles more of that rabbit with the space he's given, skittish, twitching, ready to bounce. But he still addresses Ardyn as his gaze flits to the battlefield. ]

You will give chase to me, but allow me to live. Do we have an agreement?

[daemonized]

[Ardyn's eyes track every small twitch, every movement. He is ready to give chase if the other flees, with that skull held deftly in hand. He takes note of his hands, and at the words presented to him, scoffs loudly.]

You ask so quickly, without preamble, without mere explanation.

[The hand not clenched around the sword motions idly in his direction.]

What should I agree out of? Good faith? What a lark. Why should I trust you? You, who claims to be creating a distraction that you've yet to explain.

[nysan]

Are you so certain you will ever receive an explanation at all, without me?

[ Bold words, but his demeanor doesn't quite match them. He swallows after looking back towards Ardyn, his resolve quite visibly caving in on itself. He draws more in on himself, his voice lowering. ]

This raid is a ruse. A distraction, from the other half of the trade. They desire the heart of the dead dragon, but if we had only attacked that caravan, your forces would overwhelm us. I do not want the skull of this — this madman, but I have no other choice than to draw you away.

[daemonized]

[It is mere habit that makes Ardyn draw closer a single step, intimidation brought forth when he sees even the smallest, minute way the other shrinks in on himself. In many ways, Ardyn is truly like a predator, even if he does not mean to be -- but often times, he does. His sword still hangs at his side, gripped in one hand, a shining threat that is not currently being put to use.

Regardless, amber eyes lock onto the other, unwavering.]

And who is 'they', and why is the heart of the dragon of so much import beyond the obvious? Keep talking, you're doing so well, Zain.

[nysan]

[ He holds his gaze, guarded, but with an undeniable fear within. Some of it, naturally, is for the man that has him stuck between a rock and a hard place. The rest seems to be for the words he allows to spill. His hands tremble, and blood drips to the ground from whatever he holds so tightly beneath the skull. ]

My people, the other Fangs, we burned our headquarters for a reason. Our leader intends to... he intends to bring devastation upon both cities unlike any other. The heart, it still beats, and you've seen what they've done in our land. Chimeras. Drink the blood of dragons. The torment the shamans brought to your people. It is not beyond them to... to bring back the dead.

[daemonized]

[Ardyn watches silently, allowing Zain to form his words and let them fall from his lips. He does not move, as still as statuary until it is his turn to speak.]

Bringing back the dead for the sake of destruction? Perhaps your leader has not considered that, sometimes, the dead merely want to rest.

[But that was neither here nor there — Ardyn’s mind works, a machine with its gears spinning and groaning, to piece what he can together. The still-beating heart of a dragon, something to bring destruction to both cities. Bringing back what is long dead—]

Is it the wrath of a dragon that we need fear?

[But blood drips, and before he even gives Zain a chance to reply, Ardyn reaches out with his free hand to grasp at the wrist clutching the underside of the skull. His intention is to lift it up, so that he might see what hidden thing is causing injury. Glass, he assumes, kept close to use as a weapon.]

Oh, but you’re bleeding.

[nysan]

[ And he assumes correctly. A glass shard — dripping with blood from Zain's increasingly panicked grip — lies beneath, intended for when Ardyn becomes any more of a threat than he can handle. Seeming momentarily dumbstruck by Ardyn's perception, he simply stands there, wide-eyed and at a loss for words. ]

Y-Yes. [ A beat. ] But I hope you'll forgive me.

[ Because Zain did not necessarily need the glass, only a moment to strike. Unsheathing the dagger he previously used on the guard lying dead behind them in a quick motion, Zain intends to plunge it into the arm grasping his wrist. ]

[daemonized]

[It’s a flash of steel, the motion quick, and the pressure of something sharp digging into his flesh. Pain blossoms weakly behind that thick veil, echoing at a distance — telling Ardyn that something has sundered skin and muscle. The dagger has met its mark, but all he can do is smile. Cold and inviting, and instead of crimson blood, something dark ekes from his fresh wound. A black ichor, with smoke-like miasma rising from the injury itself.

It seems like this rabbit has fangs. Ardyn’s white teeth behind the smile flash with every word.]

I’m a man who holds grudges.

[His sword disappears in a crack of magic, crystalline and shattering into nothingness. It frees his hand to grasp at the hilt of the dagger, not caring if the other is still holding tight to the weapon. Ardyn pulls, in an attempt to retract it from his flesh, and it’s obvious in this singular moment that something violent has shifted in the atmosphere. One way or another, he’s going to return the favor.

He assumes the other is ready to turn tail. Ardyn will attempt to wrench the dagger away from Zain if he's successful in swiftly removing it from his arm.]

[nysan]

[ If Ardyn were an average man, Zain might have been able to succeed in his plan. It was a simple one: disarm him, remove the dagger, be on his way still well-armed and never look back. But it becomes apparent from the moment Ardyn does not cry out at the injury that he is not the average man, if a man at all. Dread fills his heart and expression both once he lays eyes on the blackness rising from his skin. ]

W-What— [ No. It's no longer time for questions. He squandered his chance for answers.

Zain wrenches his hands from beneath Ardyn's, sacrificing his weapon in favor of creating distance between them. For what he lacks in intelligence he makes up for in the fact he is nimble, sprinting past the carriage to vault over a horse left by a long dead guardsmen. He casts a fearful glance over his shoulder, settles the skull beneath his arm, and snaps the reins for it to take off. ]

[daemonized]

[The dagger is given up for the sake of a quick retreat, and even as Ardyn pulls the sharp steel from his arm -- dripping, utterly oozing black -- in his periphery, he notes the movement of Zain drawing distance away from him. The tempo of his footsteps against damp soil, the rustle of clothing, the exertion of breath. The snapping of reins.

Already, his wound threatens to heal, to knit together on its own. Even as he clenches the hilt of the dagger in his grip, pain remains far away, and it doesn't hinder his movement. The thief has the skull, but that hardly matters as much as catching up to him to indulge in Ardyn's pointed edge of sadism sticking in his chest.

He warps forward, a burst of red magic in his wake, towards the horse -- so close that he might grasp tightly at its saddle, the dagger still glinting in the light in his other hand. The intention is to either startle horse or rider, and to swing with his borrowed weapon if the opportunity presents itself.]

cw: animal injury

[nysan]

[ It startles both the horse and the rider, causing the former to veer to the opposite side Ardyn resides on in its take off. Zain raises his arm as the swing of the dagger comes, but wears nothing to shield himself properly, the blade slicing through the fabric of his robe and drawing blood from his elbow to his wrist. He cries out as he sees red, turning in the saddle to deliver a kick to Ardyn's chest to eject him from clutching the it.

That being the arm controlling the reins and the skull occupying the other, though, presents a problem all too quickly. So spooked by the sudden fight behind it, the horse runs straight into a pothole, deep enough to abruptly launch anyone with a grip still on it off. Zain lands to the right side of it, groaning as he attempts to scramble to his feet. The creature whinnies in pain, helpless to be of any service to him again. ]

[daemonized]

[It all happens rather quickly, the way the dagger connects and draws red; momentum swinging him around as the animal careens to the side, startled, and a kick directed straight towards his chest. Ardyn’s laughs, more than willing to let it connect, for it’d be easy enough to grasp at the sleeve of a startled and frightened man, and take him tumbling down with him—

But there’s no need. The horse (skittish creatures, he’s noted) is too spooked, and suddenly it’s down on the ground, stumbling over something in the path, sending the both of them flying. Ardyn warps mid-air, before he can crash to the ground, reappearing just a few yards away from where Zain has fallen. He ignores the pained whinnies of the animal, straightening, and steps quickly towards the man still clutching the skull.

Dagger still in-hand, he twirls it lackadaisically as he approaches.]

Stay still, now.

[Those three words are the only preamble to Ardyn darting forward, swinging the dagger at the other’s shoulder in a downwards motion.]

[nysan]

[ Stay still, now. Please. Zain has enough sense — and increasing fear of his opponent — about him not to take that advice, just barely managing to roll out of the dagger's path before the blow can land. The skull, fragile thing that it is, rolls with him less successfully. With a sickening crunch of bone, the jaw slides from Mad Nithor's head, embedded into the dirt between the two men.

Horrified by the break, but desperate, Zain scrambles to grab the piece so that he might have something to swing towards Ardyn's face. ]

[daemonized]

[There’s something comical about being cracked in the jaw with a jawbone. Later, he’ll probably laugh about it, sacred artifact having come apart or otherwise. It’s enough to make him turn his head, the force stinging only faintly across his jawline, and Ardyn lets out a-]

Ha!

[He looks back down at Zain, tossing the dagger aside, several feet behind him. Second have been bought, but with his telltale magic, he summons his longsword again, and his other hand reaches down in an attempt to clench his fingers hard around the other’s neck.]

Stop struggling or I will kill you. Simple as that!

[nysan]

[ And this time, Zain is far too wrapped up in how he hardly made any impact yet again to escape his grasp. He drops both pieces of bone in favor of putting his fingers over Ardyn's, pulling, rasping: ]

Please— Please, please, I want to live. I want to live.

[daemonized]

[The skull can be tended to later; it might be in two pieces instead of one, but better than stolen away, better than shattered into many fragments. Besides, that is not Ardyn’s focus. Only Zain, struggling beneath him, his own grip unwavering.]

Then, as I said: stop struggling.

[Better to have a prisoner instead of a corpse, especially if Zain has more information to provide. He's almost certain he does, given that their exchange was brief at best.

And so Ardyn brings down his sword. Not the pointed edge, but the pommel, the intent to crack it hard across the man’s temple.]

[nysan]

[ Just like that, his struggles cease. His grip goes slack against Ardyn's hand, his own sliding off and falling to his sides. Whether it be the pain, drifting consciousness, or simply the fact he does not want to look at the man, his eyes shut tight. ]

You are... just as cursed... as these artifacts... [ He eventually murmurs. ] Like them, you'll never know peace.