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Familiar by Fate (Moon Hound Hati x Lusterless Nova)


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Why was this happening. HOW was this happening? The Arcaea family was made from mages, every single one of them. Her mother, her father, her siblings. Every single one of them was worth hundreds of foot soldiers. And yet, Elly found herself running through the halls, away from a pursuer who luckily confused her dummy for the real deal. But what now? She could only hear his footsteps, as he could probably hear hers. Even if there was distance, what should she do, where should she go? Defend herself? No, the house was to narrow. She would just blow her attacker up, herself, and probably the entire mansion.

Heading into the cellar, which was the only room with a reinforced door, Elly locked it behind her, and leaned against the far off wall, watching the door. A moment to catch her breath, to think was all she needed. So again: What could she do? The door was suddenly kicked. It held strong, but that was probably it. Pushing herself off the wall, and with no other options left, she might as well try magic. But what kind?

Spoiler

Evocation: Elemental magic. But no matter if fire, ice, earth or wind, none of them were a fitting option here.
Necromancy: Control over what comes after death. Absolutely no! Even if she would choose that, it wouldn't bring anyone here in time.
Abjuration: Magic to block, banish, or protect. Last time she erected a barrier, it lasted for days. This was the basement. She would cut off her own air supply.
Divination: Enhanced perception. None of the spells she knew would be of any help.
Transmutation: Turn something into something else: While she could try to turn whoever was after her into dirt or gold, odds were she would turn herself into the same. She was too close.
Enchantment: Magic to strengthen, weaken, or cause ailments. She could only cast something that would affect the both of them.
Illusion: Magic to trick the mind. Same problem as enchantment.
Which left... Conjuration.

Elly raised both of her hands in front of her, trying to remember her lessons in this field. "Let expanse contract. Eon become instant." Her hands began to glow, and a spellcircle appeared in front of her. This was still a risk. If she wasn't careful, who knew what she could unleash into this world? Her next words would matter the most. People would usually say something like "Hero from another world, I request your aid", and someone good would appear. But... She looked at the door. It began to lean inwards. Whoever was here didn't need to be imprisoned. They would need to face justice. She didn't need a hero! She needed a familiar. Her own champion. Elly grit her teeth, and angered she shouted out. "Champion from beyond the rift. Heed my call!" A pillar of light erupted from her spellcircle, and while she had to close her eyes from getting pretty much blinded, her focus held strong. It was now that the door gave up, and a cloaked man with a knife came rushing in, attempting to stop whatever it was she was trying.

 

Edited by Lusterless Nova
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Eyes wide with shook peered through the cracks of the pitch-black helmet, the decapitated head laying at the knees of a body that toppled over fully just a few moments later. It was odd, to not feel relief but lingering disgust, as if this swift death had been too light for the world’s greatest monster. For all the pain and suffering he had caused to the world, the hundreds of millions who died because of him… A swift beheading was too easy a death. But he had to do it. They would have stopped him otherwise if he had not acted now.

Raising his head, he was met with faces filled with shock and disbelief. Of course, the first to speak was Alex. “Drake… Why?” he asked in utter disbelief.

“He was the bane of humanity, Alex; you know this.” The response was calm, deliberate, and cold. There was no regret for what he had done and they could see it clearly as he swung his red-hot blade, the mighty Flamberge, downward to his side, the spatters of vile, red blood belonging to the dark lord that had coated the blade being scattered onto the floor. “As long as he drew breath, he was a threat to whatever remains of humanity.”

“It was not your place to pass judgment on him, Drake!”

“Was it not?” Gesturing towards the scenery around them, of ruins and smoldering rubble as far as the eye could see, he continued, “Then whose is it, exactly? Who would speak for the millions that have suffered and died because of him?”

“Killing him makes you no be-” Alex began, but his response was interrupted by the fiery redhead.

“-What will you do now?”

“...What?”

“I killed him, Alex. Executed him. What will you do now?” Even before he had asked the question, Drake had noticed how his longtime companion and friend had already placed a hand on the sheathed blade tied to his hip. It was promptly drawn as the blonde hero took a battle stance.

“You will… You will stand trial, Drake… For what you did.” There was sadness, hesitation, and regret in his blue eyes, but also a sense of determination that he’d seen so many times before. But Drake was no different. Deep down, he knew a similar look was also gracing his facial features. Taking a stance of his own, he replied.

“So that is your justice, Alex… Very well.”

With fierce looks of determination on their faces, the two called out each other’s name as they lunged at each other with swords and magic, a storm of blades and ice and fire causing the ground beneath the feet of their onlooking compatriots to tremble. They did not interfere, as per the request of Alex, but also because they all knew, deep down, that only one conviction could walk away here. This was between them; a clash of morals and ideals, about what they each believed was the essence of justice.

But even as they traded blows without hesitation, Drake could see the hints of sadness and regret in the eyes of his former comrade. Had the dice of fate rolled differently that day, had their true enemy, Balthazar, who stood at the verge of destroying their way of life and their people completely, not surrendered and fought till death instead… Then perhaps the two of them would have been friends still... maybe even the best of friends for a lifetime ahead. They had always been opposites in many ways, causing their heads to butt often, but also complement each other as few others could. The two knew each other through and through, having trained, fought, eaten, laughed, and cried together. When he swung, Alex would block, dodge, or parry - and vice versa. Even though they were battered, bruised, and exhausted from their battle with Balthazar, they pushed on, seemingly having decided that this would be the last time they would fight, one way or another.

Ice and fire, shaped like elemental serpents, formed by their will through their powerful blades, were launched at each other. The collision caused an explosion of hot steam to send both flying backward, but just as Drake managed to regain his footing, he was blinded by an impossibly bright light, and within an instant, he found himself no longer in the ruins of the dark lord’s lair by daybreak, but what appeared to be a dimly lit cellar. 

At that moment, time appeared to move at a snail’s pace - or that’s how he perceived it, at least. His eyes rapidly adjusting, it was no longer steam or Alex before him, but a shady, cloaked figure brandishing a dagger coming straight at him. Reacting swiftly as time seemed to speed up again, a deft swipe of his weapon caught the man unprepared, cutting the dagger-clutching hand clean off, the intense heat of the red-hot blade of the Flamberge instantly searing the wound closed, as well.

Falling to the floor with a cry of agony, the man cradled his stump but froze in fear as Drake stepped forward and pointed the magic sword at him. “Who are you and what do you want?” he demanded with a hint of annoyance in his voice as the redhead was still somewhat disorientated.

“Pi'S-l vuos ptîal! Je ne sias pas ce que vuos dseti! On m'a jtsue dit de teur la fllie!” the cloaked figure responded frantically, cowering like a rat driven into a corner. This gave Drake reason to pause as he had never heard a language like it. What was this place?

Glancing around, he spotted the girl. Her hair was nearly as red and wild as his own and she looked none too happy. But he could tell a look of fear, even a masked one such as hers when he saw it. There had been countless like it that he saw during the war.

Turning his attention back to the shady man, he nonchalantly kicked him, driving him to sit with his back against the cellar wall. He then trapped the maimed assailant by jamming the tip of the Flamberge into the stone floor, right between the man’s legs. If he moved now, he would burn his nether region off, as the blade remained glowing and hot with fire magic even as Drake turned and stepped away.

Approaching the girl calmly with his hands raised, he made himself look as non-threatening as possible. Bending his knees and back when he got close enough to speak to her, he asked her softly, “I suspect you don’t speak my language either, little lady? I can tell you’re in danger though, so I’ll keep you safe, alright?” A soft smile graced his usually calm facial features.

 

 

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It worked. It actually worked! If her life wasn't in danger from there still being an assassin around, she would be breaking out in jubilation right now. Especially since her summon wasn't a spirit by the looks of it, but a human of flesh, blood, and a head of red hair similar to her own. And his sword was just as fiery as his aura, effortlessly cutting off the assailant's hand. Good riddence! Now that she had a way to defend herself, she stepped forward. This whole situation was strange, but she would figure out pleasantries later.

First things first. Since they were in the basement, there were all sorts of items around. She held her hand up to her summoned helper to signal him that she needed to stay put for a moment, then went to the cupboards. A few moments later she came back with 2 things. One long rope, which she gave him and pointed to the assassin. Even if there was a language barrier, surely he knew how to figure out what she wanted.

After the assassin was properly wrapped up, Elly put a sack over his head, making sure to only come closer when his other hand was tightly secured, and afterwards turned back to the red headed man. The other item she had found was a pair of gold rings without a gemstone. She pointed to one of his hands, then held her hand to him and waited till he put his hand on hers. There was a lot to process on his end however. "Tu ne comprends probablement pas un mot de ce que je dis, mais... Devinez d'après mon ton que même si beaucoup de choses se passent, j'ai besoin que vous me fassiez confiance en ce moment." With some luck he would understand that she had no ill intentions, and when he gave her his hand, she put a ring on his left ring finger. It was a bit too big at first, but shrank down to fit comfortably around his finger. Afterwards, she gave him the second ring and held her hand to him in a similar fashion as he did, all while a slight blush started forming on her face. She couldn't deny that this felt like a wedding of sorts... not that it was, but it was of similar importance. When he commented about it, she replied "Hmph!" turned her head away from him. "This would be hardly the place or the occasion for that." A pair of rings meant to translate the whole world for those who wore them. While each spoke in their own language, they could understand each other just fine.

Now with the language barrier out of the way, there were a couple more things they had to attend to. Putting her gaze on him again, she regained a calmer composure, befitting of a noble. "I apologize for summoning you, and you can probably see that I didn't do it for my amusement. I owe you my life and an explanation, but can this wait for a bit? I am worried about my family." To say things looked bad was an understatement. Only if she had ridiculous luck was she the first on this assassins target list. Otherwise... she did not want to think about it for now. "Will you help me for just a bit longer?"

Edited by Lusterless Nova
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Even though they could understand each other, body and sign language was luckily quite universal. Staying put for a moment, he looked on as she went to fetch a rope from the cupboard and handed it to him, after which she pointed at the would-be assassin currently still trapped between a rock wall and his hot blade. Nodding to make clear that he understood her request, he stood back up and went about the task, tying the man up like a prize pig, with arm -- the other no longer had a wrist to use -- and legs bound together behind his back, leaving him squirming on the floor on his stomach. His redheaded companion then went about placing a sack over his head.

Being signaled to attention once more, he complied silently and placed his hand in the palm of her far smaller one. He had no reason to hesitate, sensing no ill intent from her. She slipped a ring around his finger that promptly shrunk to the fitting size. Being handed an identical ring afterward, he mirrored her actions and gently pushed the ring onto her finger, all the while enjoying the slightly pinkish tinge that began to form on her cheeks. “This is the first time I’ve been proposed to. Please treat me well,” he told her with a light, joking tone. Afterward, she replied with a huff and with words he could actually understand.

Interesting, he thought, taking another look at his own ringed finger and sensing some faint, unfamiliar magic from it when he began focusing his attention on it. There was just a trace amount of magical energy stringing both rings together, likely serving as a link to exchange the information required for them to understand each other. The question would be if others in this place would now be able to understand him, as well, and vice versa.

“Your family? Very well.” Drake was quick to comply. Not because he was like Alex, instantly trusting of an innocent face or to jump at the opportunity to “do good,” but because refusing could very likely put him in a worse position. He did not know what laid beyond the door and whatever and whoever was there could be as hostile as the man they had laying tied up on the floor.

“But I have one question before we head out,” he said as he stood facing the door, Flamberge at his side, its crimson glow reduced greatly to conserve mana, for now, giving it a more eery aura as a side effect. Peering at her from the corner of his eye, he asked, “What should the fate of those standing between us and your family be?”

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