The Raven was tired, and oh so horribly sore. The chains around his wrists were heavy as he limped onward, his foot still throbbing from the break he’d suffered from that damned human ape! Ferow had heard what his name was from whispering tongues, ‘Hoplite’. Ferow would find him for what he did, and next time Hoplite wouldn’t defy reality and live despite the Raven having come for his life! His chains were suddenly tugged forward, and Ferow nearly fell with a curse, the deep pain in his bruised shoulders protesting the motion. Muro glared back at him, those pale green eyes of his angry and filled with irritation.

“You’re seething again.” Muro said “Focus, we have these two-hundred watchers to talk to before today is done, scum.”

This is all they had both been doing since Ferow’s incarceration… Speaking to every single day-watcher they came across and sending out orders for even more to report to Muro for questioning. Right now they were trudging around the Bastion, the long roots leading to the ilum tree sectioning the tree city into sections much like how the Shots separated the continents of Ahkoolis.

The hot sun beat down on him from above, having turned his skin a bright lobster-red. Muro was fine of course, or at least it seemed as if he was. Muro had been burnt as well, yet he didn’t seem to care about his own burns. To be fair to himself though, Ferow considered the redness to Muro’s flesh not nearly as horrid as his own. There was absolutely no way Muro's skin hurt as badly as Ferow's did at that moment in time… Oh what he wouldn’t do to be back in the shadows where he belonged.

Ferow sighed, and looked around at the sparse forest; well, sparse compared to the Faewood proper at least. The tree density in the Bastion was nowhere near as much as the forest outside the root wall. There were long pockets of empty grassy fields where his pale flesh had been exposed to an unhealthy amount of sunlight…

He was an elf of the night, a damned assassin! He had no tan to protect from his hated enemy’s rays! Today they had found themselves in a large field of grass and the occasional stray bush, but precious shade was far off in the tree line, faekin citizens peeking over balconies embedded in the living trees or from behind their trunks. Ferow glared at them and bared his teeth; briefly considering which one of them could have been one of his parents before shaking his head. That part of his life was over with, he’d not seethe over his parents any longer, it was wasted effort.

Before the two elves was a large gathering of about a hundred day-watchers, and Ferow’s head hung in despair. He would have to talk to each of these morons to find out which one hired him, the purple collar around his neck bearing a twin that replicated its effects. The ilum tree stood tall overhead, looming like an uncaring executioner. What he wouldn’t give for the sun to disappear behind it for a while… Unfortunately, this morning the damnable ball of fire was facing this side of the tree. No escape from the sun could be found in this accursed faekin hold.

Muro cleared his throat, and the present day-watchers ceased discussion and stood straight-backed, their faces going pale above their color shifting cloaks. They looked like disembodied heads floating in the air, an unsettling sight, even knowing that it was just those enchanted cloaks that gave them such an appearance. One of those cloaks had been his… and then he lost it. So many jobs he could have done oh so easily with one of those cloaks…

He could even kill a Block-Lord and get away with it, which Ferow knew people were willing to pay him for. Most people in Akan-Dar hated the Block-Lords, and there were always stupid rich people with ambition to pay him for the job of taking them out. Ferow had done it once before with great effort and had sat pretty for ten years before he had to go back to doing jobs. If he ever made enough cash he would just like to find a place to settle down… and be lazy for the rest of eternity… If only he wasn’t so bad at managing his finances! He might have been able to make the gold he received for killing Lord Hezeke last longer than a decade.

“You already know why I’ve called you all here.” Muro said, taking Ferow from his thoughts “You will all wear this sanctioning band around your necks and will be dismissed when the question I ask you is done.”

Ferow sighed and shook his head. Fat chance that the faekin who had hired Ferow would still be here in the Bastion now that word about these questions had spread… but then again Muro must surely know that. The night-watch captain had sent word for all day-watchers to return… any who didn’t were to be treated as if they themselves had committed the crime.

Safe to say that most had already come back for questioning, but the perpetrator, if he was smart anyway, had likely completely left the Faewood to find a life somewhere else. That was what Ferow would have done, but elves were strange about their woods. Ferow didn’t understand the obsession with trees, sure, he was an elf, but he had never been infatuated with trees. Guess it must be a learned trait then, after all, Ferow was much more comfortable with tiled rooftops and the floating city blocks of Akan-Dar than he was in the forest.

The first of the elves walked up after a long silence from the group, a particularly nervous looking fellow. Muro then put up a hand and shouted for him to halt ten paces away from him. Ferow watched as Muro then tossed the band to the elf.

“Put that on and stay right there. Open up your cloak to show that you hold no weapons ready to be used against me.” He ordered sternly “This goes for all of you, the one I search for may be likely to attempt a violent escape, which is why I insist you put the collar on yourselves.” He explained as the elf complied, opening his cloak to reveal the thin cotton clothing beneath before clamping the collar around his neck.

Muro then stared daggers at Ferow, turning his head and asking loudly enough for the group to hear “Is this the man that hired you to break the Oath of Shelter?”

Ferow groaned and shook his head before answering “No.”

Muro then looked back to the day-watcher and asked loudly “Did you hire Ferow the Raven to kill Hoplite, a man protected by the Oath of Shelter?”

The man actually breathed a sigh of relief at the question, and answered “No sir I did not.”

Muro stared “What did you do to act so nervous about the sanctioning band watcher?”

The elf went pale and shook his head quickly “N-nothing sir!” He said, Ferow able to read the lie in his eyes. He’d been getting better at reading people's emotions lately, what with all the eye contact Ferow had been forced to make these last few days.

Muro seemed to pick up on this as well and narrowed his eyes further.

“What was it that you did?” Muro asked “No crime can be tolerated from watchers, now speak!”

“I-” The elf stammered, his face going red “I- I- layed with my friend's sister under his own roof!”

The air fell still as all went silent. After a moment, Muro shook his head, pinching his brow as he waved for the elf to remove the collar.

“Give it to the next elf to step forward…” Muro said with a short sigh “From now on, I will stick to the one question that matters.” He announced, before pointing to the elf before him “Go stand over there and be ready to give chase should I find the betrayer.”

The elf gave a quick nod to Muro and looked back to the crowd with his eyes wide, lips drawn tightly. It was then that Ferow noticed another elf in the crowd that glared daggers at the faekin before Muro. Ferow could read sheer rage in those eyes. That must have been his friend… Pillars save the poor fellow. Around an hour had passed of Muro repeating the question, with each elf taking turns confirming that they hadn’t hired Ferow. It was an agonizing process, having to stand in the open sun as his flesh peeled and wounds throbbed.

That was until the very last elf wore the band. The elf that stood before Muro now was tall, inelvenly so even. He could have been of a height with an orc… why had Ferow not noticed this giant before? Likely it was because he wore the hood of the cloak while waiting his turn. While he approached, only the lower half of his square jaw was visible. Was the large elf sick? His skin was a sickly pale green hue…

He opened his cloak when instructed, revealing a pair of massive veiny arms that stretched the cotton shirt he wore near to bursting. Inelvenly indeed… He watched as the band physically stretched itself to allow the fellow to fit it around his bull-neck. Items infused with magic always operated in such a manner when they were apparel, stretching to fit the user. Yet, for it to stretch so far for a supposed faekin neck… Ferow just had a bad feeling about this elf. Once he clicked the sanctioning band in place, the giant faekin gave a wide smirk, his full set of white teeth on display. He had a pair of long lower incisors for an elf…

“Did you hire Ferow the Raven to kill Hoplite, who had been given the Oath of Shelter?” Muro said, his tone turning somehow more suspicious as his eyes narrowed.

“No.” The large elf said in a guttural voice before he began laughing maniacally.

Muro narrowed his eyes and put a hand on the blade at his waist, letting Ferow’s chain fall to the dirt. Why had Muro dropped the chain? Should he try and make a run for it? Even with a broken foot, he just might be able to outpace these watchers while they were busy dealing with whatever was about to happen here… Why did Muro go for his blade? To make Muro react this way meant that something had set him off… What could it have been? The attitude couldn’t be it, Muro hadn’t put his hand on his blade whenever Ferow had given insult… No, the older elf had simply given Ferow a taste of his shoe, much to the Raven’s humiliation. So what provoked Muro to show open hostility?

It was as he had that thought that Ferow caught a glimpse of the blood red eyes beneath the hood of the faekin’s cloak, reading the emotion on display there. Ferow felt a small tremor of fear at what lurked in the large faekin’s eyes. Sheer, unadulterated madness and a hunger for violence. The faekin then removed the hood, revealing a full head of blood red hair that seemingly writhed, suspended in the air like individual blades of long grass… or bloody worms.

His pointed ears confirmed that he was indeed an elf… or at least that he possessed elven blood. Orcish tusks jutted up from a wide protruding jaw, tusks Ferow hadn’t seen the full length of until the hood was completely removed.

“You…” The half-orc said with an amused growl “Are the night captain right?”

Muro drew his blade to its full length, dropping down into a defensive posture “I am. How did you infiltrate this place?” He asked firmly as the rest of the surrounding day watchers drew arms.

Ferow read amusement in the half-orc’s eyes. The deep yellow sclera served to bring out the bright red iris, adding to that mad stare.

“I just climbed the wall.” The half-orc answered with a laugh. Ferow stared. Surely that was a lie… though he could not see it in the half-breed's eyes. Ferow himself hadn’t braved the root wall…

“Then I found the biggest day watcher I could, and crushed his skull. I challenged him first of course, then he attacked me, giving consent to battle.” The half-orc grinned, squeezing his hand shut for emphasis “It was easy for me… this fight however, won’t be easy for you, night-captain. I have come to challenge you, man to man. I have heard many great tales about you… Know me, I am Tuji… The son of Zodd!” He shouted suddenly, freezing the blood of every individual who heard it.

Ferow screamed as he fell to his rear, trying to scramble away from the monster before him. The surrounding day-watchers all took a step away from the elf- no, the creature before them. A monster of legend, a bringer of the end times.

“Pillar-Born!” Ferow screamed in terror.

He needed to get out of here, broken foot or no! Was it the end of Decuma? The fact that Tuji wore the collar meant that his nature as a godling was completely true! Tuji was without a doubt the son of the Pillar-God of Might!

“Watchers to me!” Muro shouted as Tuji gripped the cloak and his shirt with one hand, ripping both away to leave him as a shirtless mass of muscle.

Tuji’s flesh was seemingly nothing but banded muscle and scar tissue. The demi-god bore every kind of scar imaginable, from blades, jaws, claws, and burns. They pulled taught against his flesh as he stretched his arms out wide, seemingly to invite all the watchers to come attack him. His feet were bare, and his long trousers were black and baggy, though despite that Ferow could still tell that Tuji’s legs were as wide as tree-trunks.

“I had just come to challenge you, Muro.” Tuji said, giving an amused smile “I understand though… It wouldn’t be fair if only you attacked me. I hereby challenge all present to combat!”

“Kill the Pillar-Born!” Muro shouted with a snarl, darting forward with his slightly curved steel blade.

An intricate pattern of a leaf was engraved onto the hilt of the sword, marking Muro as a blade-master in these lands… Ferow knew in his bones that it wouldn’t be enough to take on a godling. Muro finished the motion, only for Tuji to catch the blade with a lazy hand. Muro gasped, and the surrounding watchers all froze, faces going pale while Ferow tried desperately to get to his feet.

Muro took a breath and tugged, likely hoping that the blade would move in the godlings grasp and sever his fingers… yet the blade didn’t even move. Muro would have had better luck pulling his blade out of a rock than Tuji’s grasp.

“Nice knife.” Tuji said in an admiring tone before giving the blade a squeeze.

The blade shattered beneath the force of it, and Tuji grinned as Muro backed away, dropping the useless hilt to the dirt with a curse before raising his fists. Tuji raised a red eyebrow at the gesture, but did the same, lifting both of his fists right up beneath his own eyes. The day-watchers still stared in sheer fright at the monster before them, and Ferow couldn’t blame them for their cowardice… If only he himself could be a better coward and get away from this freak!

Simply standing of his own power seemed to be too much effort, his aching shoulders and shattered foot proving to be banes to his escape. So he did the masculine thing, and began to slide across the grass backward, using his unbroken foot to speed him along. No one moved to grab him.

“I broke your sword Muro… yet you still wish to fight.” Tuji said with praise “Truly, you are the bravest of the watchers!”

“Kill the Pillar-Born you cowardly wretches!” Muro shouted “Think of what he will do to the Bastion; to the ilum tree if he’s allowed to live!”

That seemed to catch the day-watchers' attention and they all seemed to steady themselves as they prepared to charge Tuji. The godling seemed willing to allow the elves to completely surround him, taking the time to dig a shard of Muro’s blade out from beneath one of his finger-nails.

“I’m ready whenever you are…” Tuji said with a grin.

That was when they all charged, blades drawn and eyes wide with fear and determination for what they were about to attempt. Tuji braced himself as every blade struck him at once, flexing each muscle and somehow managing to trap the tips of the blades beneath his now bulging musculature. The muscles seemed to undulate beneath the skin, shifting to let the blades sink deeper within or catching their edges to stop their motion completely. No blood seeped from where the dozens of blades were caught. The day-watchers had struck at his legs, arms, torso and his neck, yet the many blades proved to not be enough to hurt the son of Zodd. The elves all jumped back in terror, leaving their blades stuck in the thick fibers beneath the godlings skin. Tuji’s face contorted into a disgusting leer as he flexed once more, his muscles seemingly ready to tear free from his body like taught steel wires.

The swords sunk deeper within his flexing flesh, until only the hilts remained visible. It was as if the godling were being inflated like a balloon. Then suddenly, Tuji let out a loud grunt of effort… and the blades… by the Pillars, the blades shattered beneath the strain! A rain of glinting steel exploded from the half-orc, the shards launching from Tuji faster than Ferow could track them. The shards flew into watchers, blood raining down on the grass as faekin groaned in agony if they didn’t just fall down dead…

Ferow continued his slow inching retreat as shards whizzed past his head and embedded themselves in the grass next to him. Ferow’s eyes bulged, his breathing quickening as he stared at the carnage now unfolding before him. Blood seeped from dozens of gaping wounds where the shards of steel had embedded themselves within elf flesh. Muro stood tall, ripping out a large chunk of steel from his shoulder with a curse.

Tuji was upon them after his muscles ceased their straining, a wide grin splitting his face as his hand found the head of a nearby elf. The massive hand squished the front half of the elf’s head, and Tuji whirled to spear his arm through the chest of another that had been charging with a blade in his hand.

A heart lay still beating in Tuji’s hand, and the godling crushed it before twisting, lobbing the corpse toward another dozen watchers and coating their color shifting cloaks with bright red blood. Muro darted forward, landing a punch on Tuji’s jaw which didn’t make the creature’s head move at all.

Tuji then quickly gripped Muro’s wrist, crushing it flat in his grip and flinging the night-watcher high in the air as the formerly stoic faekin screamed in agony. The godling frowned up at the flying shadow, disappointment clear in those horrid eyes. Another brave watcher darted forward with a dagger, plunging it into Tuji’s ribs to no effect. The godling then grabbed that watcher’s wrist and… Ferow tried to kick away further as Tuji began beating the watchers with the elf, using the poor sod as if he were a pair of chain-sticks. Tuji’s hands worked fast, switching between ankles and wrists in a perfect rhythm as he bashed away at the hopelessly outclassed watchers.

All that were hit were flung away violently, their bones shattering on impact wherever the screaming body connected. After two connections, the body stopped screaming, but Tuji was not done using it as he continued to batter away at the watchers that remained to fight.

At this point, the rest of the day-watchers had begun to flee, dropping weapons as Tuji cackled, dangling the limp corpse of the watcher he had been using above his head. Bones jutted from bloody flesh and limbs were bent at wrong angles… at some point the skull had been nearly completely destroyed.

Tuji’s pants had been sliced to shreds from the earlier attacks, hanging limply from his waist as blood coated seemingly every inch of him.

Tuji dropped the twisted corpse to the ground and gave a sigh “No challenges here to sate me…” He said, almost wistfully before turning his head to Ferow.

The Raven froze beneath that hungry gaze, but Tuji looked to Ferow’s swollen foot and chains, sneering with a shake of his head. Despite that, the horrid thing began to approach Ferow with casual steps as Ferow tried desperately to stand, rolling over onto his belly to try and rise-

A massive wet calloused hand then clamped the back of his neck, lifting him from the ground and setting Ferow on his feet.

“Go little bird.” Tuji said, ripping the chains free from him “You are the Raven… I had heard you were here… surely you could be a challenge?” Tuji asked, looking him up and down. Ferow had been about to protest, to say that he was nothing but a little baby that hid in the dark, but Tuji interrupted him “But I cannot claim your life now. Go, grow strong! Then I will seek you out and we will do battle!”

Ferow shook his head “Hells no!” He shouted more in terror than defiance.

Tuji grimaced then “Very well, coward. Go free knowing that you will never be great.”

Ferow’s pride didn’t sting at that statement. Only a fool would try and fight a godling one-on-one, and if Tuji was willing to let him get away then that was a chance he was absolutely going to take! Did Muro still live among the mangled groaning bodies laying about the field or had he perished falling back to the dirt? Well, he’d rather not find out. Ferow turned his back to the monster, readying to limp as fast as he was able in case the godlings madness set in even further.

“...Before you go though.” Tuji began “Who is this… Hoplite I kept hearing about?”