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"I know, I know, you won't even realise I'm gone," Cyran said before ruffling his brothers hair and then darting off.
"You know he won't be back until late, don't you?" Eleanor said, coming out of the house to wave her son off.
"Oh without a doubt. He has problems staying away from that forest whenever he has free time," Virion replied, tightening his weapon belt, readying himself to start a patrol of the village.
Grinning at the man his son was becoming, Virion turned and kissed his wife before setting off. As usual, his routine consisted of talking to the various merchants and business owners in the village for suspicious activities or strange goings on. For his station and ability, this work was extremely tedious for Virion. Much less exciting than his adventuring days and with a whole host of people piling their problems onto him.
"Nice day today ain't it, cap! Don't work too hard y'hear?" shouted an apple merchant from his stall, tossing a ruby red fruit Virion's way.
Catching the apple with swift, deft hands, Virion grinned and bit down, "nice to see business is still keeping well for you there! I'll work as hard as you're apple are tasty."
Yet Virion loved the work. It rewarded him with a satisfaction that he found rarely whilst adventuring. A small warmth knowing he protected the people of this place and that they also trusted him flawlessly made every trudge through his patrols worth it. And so on he trudged. Meeting with various merchants and attending to his guards on rotation, the sun had started to wane when he met with the defensive barricades that were erected near the northern side of the forest. A squad of guards, all dressed in armour that looked as though the forest had granted them divine protection with its nature inspired design, stood to attention at Virion's entrance.
"Lord Sentinel, nothing to report so far, sir." A stern looking warrior rattled off, his salute rigid.
"Very good, thank you," Virion replied. Something wasn't sitting right and he could not put his finger on it. Walking along the encampment was reassuring that a suitable defence could be mounted. The village would be in no danger. Yet Virion's gut disagreed. Making it back to the village just as nightfall struck, Virion decided that he would quickly pay his brothers house a visit to discuss his fears. As he approached his brothers door, his acute senses spun into overdrive making even the wind audible to him and something was tearing through it. Shifting his head slightly, a flaming arrowhead struck the wood of Wyn's door. Virion tore the arrow down and turned to find a throng of black clad intruders storming the village.
"How did you make it here?!" Virion roared in outrage, anger fuelling his body as he drew his katana and took a ready stance. The black clad intruders poured into the village like a sea of ink that stained everything, drawing swords they attacked everyone in sight. A group attempted to enter a home when a blur coalesced into existence beside them and in one fluid motion parted their bodies into two. A red mist of blood hung in the air as the Sentinel howled, "Warriors of Sylvar, to me! Women and children, barricade yourselves!"
Guardsmen rushed to their Sentinels aid, battling mysterious warriors throughout the village, though few in number they were. Hearing Virion's cry, another surge of invaders emerged through the trees to attack. Responding in kind, Virion cut through swathes moving gracefully like a dancer leaving nothing but limbs and anguish in his wake. "Take your men and see to the safety of the villagers, I will find the elder," ordered Virion as he nodded to the leader of the small squad that heard his cry.
Looking around, the village had taken on an orange glow as fires tore through homes and people alike. Screams shook the night air, giving some of the silhouettes cast by the fires a frightening aspect. In the blink of an eye, the village had become a marauders playground and Virion felt powerless.
"How could this have happened?! We prepared according to our reports. The north was quiet. The south onl-," the pieces fell into place and left the charging sentinel lost for words. "We fell for it... I fell for it." He was shook from his silent chiding when he came to the Oak of the Sage. Bodies cloaked in black littered the ground, each one bearing the same symbol on their chest, a single curved blade. "Are these men mercenaries?" he asked himself.
"Virion! There you are! What happening with the rest of the village?" an aged voice rang out.
Looking toward the voice, Galareon was hobbling with his cane toward him from a distance when the shadows surrounding the elder rippled and changed shape, forming multiple men. The shadows took form and all launched their surprise attack. In a smooth motion, Galaeron leapt into the air and revealed a small sword from the body of his cane that flashed out before returning to its place. One of the mercenaries stopped and examined himself before seeing his torse shift out of place from his shoulder to the waist. Sliding into two separate pieces, the body collapsed to the floor as Galaeron spoke out, "I may be old but you're 400 years too early to beat me with such tricks. Now, tell me who you are," his commanding tone was ignored by the remaining men who are crazily charged. With the same aerial display, Galaerons hunched form flew through the air as if it were natural to him, somersaulting around any attack whilst delivering his own, the elder could barely be seen until at last he landed on solid ground and returned to leaning on his cane. The attackers all fell in place, dead before they hit the ground.
Continuing his limp approach, Galaeron could only plead with Virion, "the villagers, are they safe?"
"A small squad of men have been sent to secure their safety. I came to get you. We must head back, this was too organised to have been by chance and we do not have the numbers here to repel this attack if it continues. Most of our guardsmen are to the north.
"I request that you make your escape with the villagers to the guard encampment to the north. That is our best option of defence. I will stay with my men here and delay them until reinforcements from the encampment arrive."
The elder looked as though he had suddenly aged well beyond his years as his shoulders sank. "It is as you say, I see no better option," grabbing his large calloused hand, Galaeron gazed into Virion, "good luck Sentinel." Turning to hobble off, Virion ran back to the village prior. Flashes could be seen in the distance, accompanied by shrill screaming that turned Virion's blood cold yet his eyes burned.
Back in the village square, Virion found himself facing a small army of black clad mercenaries. Each one bearing a curved blade embroidered into their breast. Some wielded swords, others clubs. Few were barehanded. The sentinel had never known hatred if this magnitude. Staring down at the hooded figures, he could almost make out that some were laughing. Chaos was nurtured by these men and meticulous cultivated. Virion intended to rip it out from the root. Settling into a stance, he pointed the tip of his katana towards the group. Calming himself, he exhaled and slowly descended into focus.
"Grace under pressure," he whispered to himself as one of the barehanded men reached an outstretched palm towards him. Lightning emerged from his hand and screamed through the air striking the ground with force enough to rip chunks of earth away. Virion however was no longer there. He had wisped into the middle of their formation and swung his sword towards the barehanded mercenaries. Mages often came to battle unequipped, they had no need for swords when destruction was at their fingertips. Before the mercenaries realised that Virion was not dead, he had felled a number of them before wisping back to open ground, assessing his enemies simultaneously. Footsteps could be heard from behind and a quick glance told him that he was surrounded. One of the mercenaries threw a round object towards Virion. It hit the ground with a metallic thud before rolling into view. The squad leader's head stared at Virion in silent horror.
Panic settled into him at the thought of Eleanor and Arlen. If the guards were defeated then they were in danger. Raising his sword once more, Virion surveyed the men who surrounded him when a loud voice crushed him.
"Dad?!"
Whirling on the spot, Virion saw his son. The mercenaries began staggering as Cyran came stumbling through the wall of men, his twin swords slick with blood barely hanging on in his weak looking grip. Covered in cuts, his usually beautiful blonde hair was matted to his face marring his vision as he stumbled and hit the ground in front of Virion. The man lunged forward, cradling his son, and wiped the bloodied hair from his face.
"Where's... Mom? And Arlen?" he spoke softly. He looked as though he had ran through a bush made entirely of swords. "The house was... empty."
A cold shiver surged through Virion's body. "It's okay son, they got to safety." An empty smile ghosted across his face in an attempt to ease him. Without giving him respite, the mercenaries charged. A snarl escaped the sentinels lips as he lifted his son over his shoulder and fought his way head on through the throng of men coming his way. The circle of mercenaries started closing in but they maintained their distance. They knew they had the upper hand but they were wary. They had witnessed his skill, his ferocity and grace. And now he was backed into a corner.
Virion held his hand up and gazed at his ring. "You bastard," he said as a small smile emerged. A crack erupted in the space in front of him before splintering away into a circle that sparked at the edges with a purple fizz.
"Dad?" Cyran weakly said.
Virion looked at the circular space in front of him. Beyond the circle was quiet. A few people could be seen looking in his direction, others shied away into large buildings made of stone. He set his son down from his shoulder and looked the boy in his eyes. Cyran stared at him with eyes, red from blood and tears, filled with puzzlement.
Virion gently places his hand against his cheek and, with his thumb, brushed a tear from his eye before planting the same hand against Cyran's chest.
"Dad, what are you-"
"Courage is grace under pressure, son. I love you."
Virion felt his son's confusion and also his sheer determination. There was nothing he could do to change the man he raised but hold his head up high. With force, he shoved Cyran through the portal.
"Live, son."
The portal closed, leaving Virion amidst a sea of black. Readying himself back into a stance, he exhaled once more.
"Live."