Chronicles of The Omniverse Archived Midlands: Lanari Plains

Though she knew the truth of Arelle's words, it was still not what Emeryll wanted to hear. Silent tears fell to spatter upon the unconscious man's hand and her words came out choked with the effort to not completely unravel.

"I want to be alone with him," she said. "Please."

Outside of the tack room, Rynhart had made quick work of rebinding the gashes in his side, and was now kneeling to use some water from a wooden bucket to rinse the blood from his hands and forearms. There was little to be done for his blood stained clothing though, which had clearly seen better days. Both torn and faded from the road, their once vibrant extravagance had lost much of its luster, but the underlying embroideries upon his shirt, and the remnants of ornamentation upon his lengthy over-coat hinted at a past taste in finery.
 
Arelle eyed Emeryll's husband and sighed. It was not the easy thing to do, but it was the smartest. She and her child needed to leave this place, and if they could not take her husband with them, then he had to be left behind.

"Yes, of course." She murmured, respectful of the relationship. Was a mystery, foreign to the aasimar, but she'd witnessed it in others. She wanted to say something else; a word of warning, or something of comfort, perhaps, but the latter was something she was also unfamiliar with.

She exited the room and instead, watched Rynhart clean his hands from the small and short battle. "Do you need assistance?" she asked, politely. He'd tended to his own wounds while she'd been with the woman, Arelle noted, and she wondered if he was often having to patch himself up. "What happened there?" She indicated the pre-existing injury, now patched.
 
"A misjudgment," Rynhart explained. "Where are you from? And where are you headed?"

He looked up at her from where he was crouched. She clearly wasn't from the Midlands, or had somehow avoided the rampant anomalies and destruction spreading through the region. For those living through it, the how, what, and why questions had long fallen away. With conflict after conflict bleeding together, and a seemingly unending wave of new threats upon the horizon, it had become an impossibility to identify each one as a unique occurrence. Past a point, it no longer mattered the specifics beyond preparing for and surviving the next.

The general chaos had stemmed a bit as he had distanced himself from Westeria City, but nowhere it seemed was truly untouched. Which continued to bring to question the girl. If she wasn't from around here, then she must have traveled here, but even if she had managed to slip past the TNG border patrols unnoticed, she would be one of very few actively trying to travel into the region, as opposed to out of it.
 
"The Eastlands." She didn't bother naming her tiny village as most probably have never heard of it. She considered the question with a tilted head before answering, "Anywhere away from there might be the most accurate description. The plan had been to head West." A giant lake had changed that to head North, but after that who knew. "It's very isolated, I wasn't so aware of all that was happening out here." It sent a pang of guilt through her. Her village live comfortable tucked away, and there was all this suffering here.

"As of now I do not have a very good idea of where I'm headed, I suppose. Are you traveling with Emeryll and her husband or is that just coincidence?"
 
"The Midlands are no longer a safe place to be wandering aimlessly," Rynhart answered. "Academia Celestia is the nearest point of likely refuge."

With Scarlet's resources and the Academy's ongoing assistance in relocating refugees from the Midlands, odds were better than average that the academy still held - and more importantly wasn't yet abandoned entirely - but the destruction he had personally witnessed sweep through the Midlands was such that the fate of many rested on the pure whim of chance.

"If it's still standing," he added truthfully.

He glanced towards the nearby tack room.

"It's several weeks away, traveling on foot," he explained. "It's far closer than the Northland borders though."
 
While pondering this information, Arelle began digging through the pockets and any bags of the deceased, looking for anything of use to bring along with her on her travels. "Then that is where I'll be headed." She decided after her rummaging. "Is that where you are going?" She was more of less inviting herself along for the journey, but she figured they could use a little help. He was injured and the woman had a baby. Babies do not know how to be stealthy, either.

"What exactly is at Academia Celestia and the Northland borders?"
 
A lone pair of eyes watched as the man walked away from the barn from behind some charred scrub brush, that pair of eyes was set upon a dirty, sunken, and desperate face framed in a dark grey, dingy boonie hat, which had a set of sunglasses set on the top.

"Could be some supplies in there." The man said in Anquietas.

"Maybe a place to stay the next couple nights, we've been on the move for weeks now, Since we lost our medic, I don't know if we're going to make it." The second man said, turning back to a small overturned and charred sedan, there were four other men there, and they were carrying two stretchers, with wounded soldiers in them.

The first soldier took a bullet in the chest, and while stable, his formerly bleeding wound was likely to get infected. The second one was missing a leg, blown off by a landmine likely set by bandits trying to trap a poor unfortunate animal. His wound was cauterized and stable, but the poor unfortunate man could do little more.

With food and medicine all but completely gone, munitions nearly depleted, the men were desperate for a place to rest, and this barn would prove to be a relatively long term shelter, where they could rest before trying to link up with Admiral McGregor's beacon.

"Decurion, take point and let's check that barn out, the guy's locked it up, maybe he's got food." The Platoon sergeant said. "We're all that's left of third platoon..." He said to himself. "Ever since they took Kayama, we've been dropping like flies..." He said, holding up a fistful of dogtags. "Between the lack of food, the disease, and the raiders.."

Corporal Decurion nodded, and made a hand gesture, before he moved from the scrub brush and looped wide towards the right side of the barn door, the Sergeant followed. He formed up on the left side, gesturing for two more of his men to approach, they stood adjacent to the door, in a side by side formation with their weapons drawn.

The Corporal grabbed the metal bar, causing the noise to reverberate through the wood of the barn, he lifted it and slowly tugged on the door, pulling it open wide, letting the light pour into the barn, the malnourished Aschen soldiers casting long shadows into the bar.

They caught sight of the bodies and cried out. "Shit!" Before swinging around the doorframe for cover, they made hand gestures, asking who had grenades, and everyone shook their heads, they began to muster up the courage, and the Sergeant began making gestures trying to plan their entrance. There were bodies, and movement.

"Identify yourselves!" The sergeant called out in Common.
 
Before Rynhart could answer Arelle, the sounds of approaching people reached them. They were too far away to make out language or accent, but with one violent altercation having already unfolded, Rynhart was wary. He had taken the small band of raiders to be working alone, but it was not an impossibility that their numbers were greater. He raised a finger to his lips as he approached the of the barn. A glance through the crack in the wooden doors revealed something far worse than raiders. Aschen. And not just any Aschen. Imperial Aschen.

His response was immediate and the sharp urgency in his gaze was unmistakable as he wheeled back about.

"Aschen," he whispered. "We need to get out of here. Now."

Emeryll appeared momentarily within the doorway of the tack hut, drawn by the sound of whispering.

"What's going on?" she asked quietly.

"An Aschen patrol," Rynhart replied. "We need to leave."

"But... I can't leave him," Emeryll whispered huskily.

"We cannot stay," Rynhart urged her.

The Aschen's xenophobia would not bode well if the soldiers encountered Rynhart and Arelle. Especially stranded on a hostile planet and at war with no reinforcements, and no aid.

"Please... maybe they can-"

Rynhart shook his head, already recognizing the spark of hope in the woman's eyes.

"They're Imperial Aschen. They would sooner execute all of us, than aid a dying Terran," he told her.

"You can't know that... if there's any hope, I can't just leave him," she told him, tears brimming in the corner of her eyes.

Rynhart's own expression hardened. He couldn't force the woman to leave, and they were running out of time. He turned instead to Arelle, a questioning look upon his face.
 
The noise outside doused any curiosity Arelle had at that moment. She was ready for a threat, the dead man's gun already in her hand. She was quiet while Rynhart peeked outside to see who was there.

Aschen. She was familiar with Imperial Aschen; she'd never had any direct experiences, but she knew enough about them to know that they were in serious danger. She didn't hesitate in tightening her bag on her shoulders and making sure she had everything she could carry. The only pause came when the woman refused to go with. She looked between Rynhart and Emeryll and shook her head, "There is no hope. The only hope is to save yourself and your child. Your husband is already lost." Honestly, the baby was a liability but less so than the already dying man in the hut.

Arelle turned back to Rynhart and gave him a sharp nod, "Let us go." She would hate to leave the woman behind but they would be no match for these soldiers; they had barely survived the three men who'd been here before them.
 
The safest route would be out the back, but for the woman's stubborness he didn't want to risk dropping a barn on her and the infant. And truthfully being human - and of a non magical nature - the woman's odds of a non-violent encounter with the Aschen were far greater than Arelle and his own. That left the front doors. A far more dangerous prospect depending on what weaponry the soldiers may be armed with.

"Their attention will be on me," Rynhart explained as a deep purple miasma billowed out around his form once more.

The clatter of metal warned of the Aschen's imminent entry when a deep, gravely growl of a voice filled the barn.

"Get clear, and head north. Keep to the lakeside and I'll catch up."

As the doors opened and the Aschen started barking orders at the sight of the dead bodies, a massive purple scaled dragon let out a deafening roar and launched clear of the dissipating purple cloud. His path of trajectory would take him high into the barn doors, splintering wood as his large body mass proved too large for the opening. His wings unfurled, carrying his momentum higher with powerful strokes that would leave him just barely sailing over the heads of the Aschen scattered below. The wind forces created by the beating of his wings would buffet those below him, and no doubt all eyes would be upon him as he skimmed past overhead.

He was far too low to the ground though to gain proper lift - especially with the ragged wounds down one side that left his muscles screaming in protest. His large body mass threw up a cloud of dirt and smoke as he came sliding to a halt about twenty yards past the soldiers. He wheeled about quickly, muscles tensed as he prepared to launch himself skyward again. This time with no barn to interfere with his movements, he only needed evade any potential retaliation from the nearby soldiers long enough to take to the sky.
 
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They were doing her a favor by leaving. If they stayed, the woman would be associated with them... Arelle nodded to herself. It was the right thing to leave. She wrinkled her nose at the smell of Rynhart's change but nodded at his instructions. Get clear, head North.

The aasimar double checked that everything was strapped on tight and considered the woman one last time. It did not look like she was changing her mind about going so she gave Emeryll a sad smile before focusing in front of her. As a purple dragon took his place and burst from the barn, she readied herself. When he had flown over the soldiers and past them, then she slipped out the open doors and edged around the barn hoping to get around and out of sight before heading north.
 
The instant the dragon lunged forward from the confines of the small red barn, the Aschen focused their sights on it for the briefest of moments, and if on a knee-jerk reaction began opening fire. Their weapons barked, like a deafening crack that rang through the wastelands, brilliant gouts of green light jutted fourth from their muzzles, and streaked up at the dragon.

The Aschen moved quickly, concentrating their fire on the Dragon as it gained altitude, no doubt the strange creature likely taking damage as streaks of green light buffeted it's flesh and wings, the Aschen troops moving for cover quickly around the barn, firing their weapons up into the air.

When the Dragon landed several feet away, the Aschen began to move, in a leapfrog pattern around the barn and towards the Dragon, concentrating their weapons fire on it's head and neck, aiming to kill the beast, perhaps they wanted to harvest it for food, or perhaps slaying a dragon would provide for good tales back home.

If the Dragon was able to regain flight, the men kept their weapons fire pressed, but it tapered off slightly as they tried to reload. At about 500 meters, the disruptor fire would be less intense as the range began to drop off.
 
Rynhart had chosen his form wisely with the anticipation of facing primarily disruptor fire. The green streaks scored against his nigh heat impervious hide left little more than scorch marks against the scales as he launched himself skyward once more. Their decision to primarily aim for his neck and head left him well protected as the thick scales of his neck and the bony protrusions of his head protected more vulnerable points. His height protected him further as they would be hard pressed to aim for his eyes and risk blinding him as he sailed overhead. This time he cleared the barn, using it as cover to force the soldiers to keep moving to maintain him in their line of sights as he dropped back low to the ground on the far side to skim outwards across the surface of the massive lake where they would be hard pressed to pursue.

He caught no sign of Arelle as he passed overhead, but there was plenty of rocky embankments along the lake's edge as well as thick growths of reeds and scraggly shrubbery that would prove more than efficient at masking her from his view - and the Aschen with him.

With his back now to the soldiers, and his armored hide protecting against the disruptor fire, they would be hard pressed to bring the beast down over the lake without access to the heavy artillery that had felled him back in Westeria City.

The water offered him protection as well to shed the more armored - but also more detectable - form he had chosen. As he furled his wings and prepared for the abrupt plummet beneath the water, thick purple miasma began to plume and billow out from his maw until it engulfed the massive beast in its entirety. Water sprayed in all directions as his massive bulk hit the surface of the lake, and once the purple miasma began to dissipate there would be no sign of the dragon. Only still lake waters.
 
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Once on the other side of the barn and out of sight, Arelle took a breath. Did she think it fair to abandon the dragon while he drew all the attention, particularly while he was injured? Probably not. Then she considered herself; she was obviously not human and they would shoot the second they took sight of her. There was a high probability of death in her future and she was highly outnumbered.

She said a quick prayer to a god she did not believe in and then took off toward the lake. Once there she slowed, opting for stealth over speed. The rocks and shrubbery provided a perfect place to hide and she quickly tucked herself behind a large rock, tucking in. Every time she moved from cover to cover she glanced for the enemy and the dragon.

She saw him fly overhead, over the lake and watched him drop down into it. Arelle hesitated... had he been hurt? But she saw the foul smelling purple smoke and decided that maybe he'd decided to change, instead. This was the hope she held, at least, as she continued to move forward.
 
The Aschen soldiers moved in, guns drawn and readied as they crept into the bar. The sounds of the woman's pleas carried through the air, followed by the shouts of the Aschen soldiers from inside the barn.

"Tace!" One barked.

There was more sounds of the woman pleading, followed by two loud pops.

There was a commotion in the barn, the woman's screams were being muffled, like someone had placed a hand over her mouth. There was shouts, threats, carrying on, and scuffling in the barn; if Arelle choose to stay nearby, she would hear every bit of it.

This lasted a good twenty minutes..

The woman screamed, cried, and the soldiers shouted at her some more. They were laughing, carrying on, and the doors of the barn flew open, one soldier had the woman by the collar, his rifle jammed into the small of her back. "Venimus ipsi aliquam cibum!" He called out, shoving the sobbing woman, while a second Aschen soldier was carrying the infant by one leg, tossing it like garbage into the grass. The baby was charred beyond recognition.

"Sapidum!" Another soldier shouted, shouldering his rifle.

Slowly, and with a languid pace they moved in a northerly direction, the woman's muffled sobs carrying through the air, there was only one reason the Aschen would take someone like her prisoner, and she would meet a fate worse than death at their hands.
 
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