For as long as anyone can remember, the house Tise’el has stood vigil. Guardians of the True Kingdom against the Betrayers. The last of the old houses on the Isle Ressyta still loyal to the King of All, who Rages against the Gods Themselves. At least, that is the story the house made certain all told.
The truth behind the house Tise’el is far more complicated. They were once favored by the King of All, but were cast out. No books say why they were banished to the small, resource scarce isle. But Ressyta was meant to be their prison. And, until the split, it was. But all things change. And in these particular people’s case, that change happened for the most common of reasons. War. What was once a pointless rock gardened by the outcast houses quickly became the center of conflict between the True King and the Betrayer State. Many of the outcast houses, disdainful to their ancestors’ treatment at the hands of the King’s ancestors, chose to join up with the dark houses of the Betrayer State. But Tise’el saw how the chips would fall. And they instead stayed loyal. Not out of loyalty, though. Out of clever intuition. If they left the Kingdom for the Betrayer, Ressyta would remain a backwoods, a nothing place with a different absent ruler. Instead, it became a flourishing post, with soldiers, mystics, and traders coming in a constant stream. All increasing the power and standing of house Tise’el.
But this is not that story. Generations into the conflict, House Tise’el has wormed its way back into the graces of the king. But other forces are at play. Which brings us to the youngest daughter of the second son of House Tise’el. Alessari Ud Tise’el is not the smartest of the family. Nor is she the strongest. Nor the cleverest. Nor the most skilled. She has the mere distinction of being the one with the most luck, both good and ill.
Alessari was never raised to be a leader. That was never to be her purpose. She smiles as she swings across the trees of her home. Ressyta, once but a rock, was now a thriving forest. That’s what happens when two great and powerful armies of mystics throw wild, untamed magic around for a millennium. The wild grows powerful and fights back. In spite of her upbringing as a noble, as a courtier, Alessari always preferred the touch of Nature to that of civilisation. Much to her parent’s constant displeasure. But in fact, it is that very preference which would come to prove quite beneficial to the young woman.
This eve, you see, is a ball. A gathering of the loyal houses in the area. While the Tise’el are the only old house in Loyal Ressyta, since the beginning of the war, many new houses have flocked around, seeing opportunity in conflict. Merchant houses, spy houses, and other unsavory types. And these yearly balls are an opportunity for all these houses to pledge loyalty to Tise’el and in turn to the King. The king sends a representative, who picks people from the lesser houses to join them in the return to court. These balls held by the old houses are also one of the best ways to form a new house. Get recognized by an old house and pledge fealty, and your family or guild can be fast tracked to becoming a house. All in all, a truly long, irritating, and boring affair. At least, in the eyes of young Alessari. Had she been a better noble, she would be at home now. Preparing for the evening with her family. Vying with her brother and sisters for the attention of whomever the king sent to choose new courtiers. But this isn’t Alessari’s way. She needed to relax before the ball, so she ventured out into the isle’s wilderness.
Closing her eyes, she calls out silently through treetops. The wild forest twists and shudders about her. But, as always, it aids her. Nature has always been a friend of Alessari. It knows what she wants, what she needs. She’s seeking a hunt to calm her nerves. But she wants the hunt not to hurt the forest. And so, as usual, the forest leads her to a beast that needs culling.
It is a large beast, by the depth of the tracks she follows. Nature says it has been hurting the forest. The forest has been planning on fighting back, but when Alessari asked, it could not help but lead her this way. The help of the mystical hunter is more than welcomed by the forest. That worries the young woman some. The forest usually can take care of its own protection. That it is afraid means this particular beast is quite dangerous.
She follows the track to the beast’s den. It is a cave, of a sort. Unnatural though. She was here just a moon ago, and there had been no cave. She can see why this beast is dangerous. An ability to carve a cave from the stone in as brief a time as a single moon means an ability far beyond what any natural creature possesses. Which means one of three real possibilities. First, invasion, which is unlikely. The betrayers tend to keep to armies, rather than monsters, and no one else would bother with this isle. Second, incursion of the other planes. Possible, but most of those tend to be friends of Nature, rather than enemies. Finally, an okrativ. A creature formed when wild magics escape from the mages’ and mystics’ control. That is what Alessari assumes to be the case. Between the mystics of the Betrayer State, the mystics of her house, and all those coming for the ball, one or two mistakes could cause a great problem.
With the assumption this is no mere beast but an okrativ, she wraps her right hand around her bow’s grip. It feels light in her hand as the power flows through her. She can’t afford to enter an okrativ’s den. That generally means certain death. She needs to draw the creature out. Slowly she notches an arrow and draws back on the bow. Once at full draw, she quietly chants a few syllables in ancient Elfish, drawing her thumb across the fletching. The arrow begins to glow, a green-gold spiralling of energy arching up and down the shaft. Releasing it, the arrow soars deep into the unnatural hollow. As it flies, she readies herself. She knows already what she needs to do. Holding forth her hand, she waits. The shaft illuminates her foe. A great, hulking creature of pain and death. An okrativ bound to some sort of wolf. Beginning her chant, a spirally series of vines erupt from her back, spiralling into the cave. The vines wrap around the beast, as the cave goes dark. Alessari starts to pull with the vines, trying to draw the okrativ out into the open.
It works. Just not exactly as Alessari intended it to. She hoped the vines, still grasping the okrativ-wolf, would pull it out by force, binding and wounding it in the process. Instead, the creature comes charging out of its den, free of the vines and pained hatred in its eyes. It seems ready and fully intent on consuming the young woman who disrupted its unnatural rest. With a leap, the creature bites at Alessari. She slides out of the way of the bite itself, though the outstretched claws don’t do wonders for her outfit. As the blood slowly oozes out from her ripped shoulder, the noble hunter turns to the beast. “Be at peace,” she says, as she launches yet another arrow. The shaft finds its mark and erupts with energy. All around the okrativ, Nature aids Alessari. Birds, insects, and thorns strike out at it, harassing and wounding the thing.
The okrativ-wolf closes in on her once again, this time trying to rip at her flesh. She dodges slightly out of the way, and the unnatural claws tear through her shirt’s midsection, finding flesh in her stomach. Too close. She drops her bow. Nature continues its harassment to buy time. With a flick of her wrists, Alessari draws her knives. And both find purchase in the neck of the okrativ. With a painful scream, the okrativ falls. As does the young woman, blood pooling at the ground around her.
Nature tends to her wounds. Perhaps the forest likes her. Or perhaps it feels it would be rude to let her die, given it had been the one to ask her to fight the thing. Or simply it thinks there has been enough death for the day. Whatever the reason, Nature heals the young woman. Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on who one asks, the healing process is a slow one, even aided by the magics of the wild. Young Alessari remains partially-conscious, lying on the ground surrounded by Nature’s energy, for several hours.
When she fully awakens, eve has already come. Realizing she will soon be late for her house’s festivities, she gives thanks to Nature for it’s help as she flows swiftly back through the trees to her window. When she arrives, the festivities she expects to see already underway are not. An entirely different atmosphere is here. One far more grim. She slips into her room to get into something far less comfortable. Leaving her bow and quiver on her bed, she starts to undress. Perhaps the mood is somehow her fault, she does wonder as she changes. After all, she has been absent. The corset stings as she tightens it over the barely healed wound. She’s putting on her gown for the dance when a pair of guards she does not recognize burst through her doors. And she knows all her house’s guards. She rolls, half dressed, back towards her bed.
“She’s here,” says the woman.
“Git her!” shouts the other.
The tree outside bursts in through the window. Using the distraction, Alessari rolls over the bed, collecting her bow and quivers as she moves. Another guard enters, along with a mystic. “What do you want?” the young noble asks the newest entrant, who’s likely in charge.
“A clean sweep,” the mystic says as the tree branch gets enveloped in flame. Likely his doing. Alessari grows angry. No one hurts her friend, Nature. With a quiet word to her bow, she slides out from the cover of the bed towards the window and looses the nocked arrow at the mage’s head. Fire and vines erupt from the shaft as it strikes true, and the mage falls over. His face is not what it once was.
“I ask again,” Alessari says as she stands, “What do you want?”
The three guard types come at her. The first charges, spear pointed towards her. Fools. She sidesteps him and he ends up out the window. He and his are not friends of Nature, so it will handle that one. The other two approach the fight more tactically. Trying to flank her in this small room. They were too close to fight with the bow. But not to fight with magic. With a slight smile, she begins her chant. Vines spiral out from every wooden surface in her room, wrapping themselves around the pair of guards. As they futilely fight the vines, Alessari draws her blades. Two swift strikes later, they are both dead. She closes her door and runs the mage’s pockets. A kill order, from one of her family’s older subordinate houses. For her whole family, and the court representative. It’s a full on coup. Alessari doubts it will last long, but that hardly matters. The rest of her family is dead. The Great House Tise’el has fallen. After all, she is no politician, no leader. She’s barely noble. She needs to get out of here alive. But if she does, she realizes, she’ll be plagued by assassins. After all, she is the only person left to contradict whatever story the House Dalsin’ar will tell. She needs to figure this out.
If she wishes to live, she must die. It is the only way. At least, for long enough to escape Ressyta. She looks around and sees the dead guard. She almost looks like Alessari. Some dye to her hair and a few additional cuts on the face, then put her in the noble garb around, and the ruse should hold for maybe a day. More than enough time to get away. Alessari sets herself to work. There’s much to do, and little time if she wishes to escape tonight.
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