Five and One Wishes

That evening few of the soldiers slept well. Tomorrow they were to board a ship that sails the air currents as deft as any made of water. Dozens against hundreds on an assault. Yet each one knows why they fight. Why they are willing to die.
The captain's cabin holds a motley crew of half a dozen adventurers. The benefits of accepting a suicide mission is a little privacy before the storm. It is a concept the captain fails to understand as he rocks in his chair. One boot is placed upon the table and extended to rock the chair on two of it's legs. A slow creek is the only sound that is heard amongst them.
"Will you stop that," says a woman with red hair that crackles angrily akin to embers of a campfire. "Its damn irritating."
"Stop what?" Dante Leone asks. Captain. Rogue. Man who can't stand all this somber silence. Creek creek.
"That! You know damn well you inglorious son of a demon," Cinder points, eyes crackling.
An old soldier places a hand on the sorceress' shoulder, "Have you taken your tonic?"
The firesoul snaps, "Hell no. We need every ounce of strength for this and I will NOT be drugged so some skittering twittering bug can gut me."
Gargax has seen many campaigns. Many passionate soldiers, such as Cinder. Words fail here, so he stays and listens to her ire.
"Breathe, Cinder," a younger man says, lowering his hands from a book of adventure of dashing heroism. It features a swashbuckler leaping from a ship, rope in hand, saving some damsel in distress from being being eaten by a shark. The book gives Captain Leone a squint every time he looks over. "We are just worried," he explains, voice soft. The book lowers, "I am worried."
"I'm worried she is going to blow up this whole fucking ship," Dante says, matter of factly as he rocks in his chair. "Poof," he makes a hand gesture of an explosion.
The whole group looks sharply at Dante. Dante smiles.
"Aye," Gargax cuts the silence, "Contain it, Cinder. It won't be just our lives you burn up. Alexander's company is above deck. The New Alliance's forces are required to secure a route for victory. When the Game starts, they will be walking into a death trap, and we mean to give relief."
"They mean to give relief," says a monk, colors matching the elvish woman's beside his. "We mean to end the grip of tyranny on the innocents beholded to the Hive Queen." The woman besides him nods, "The affairs of lords are their own. It is the people that suffer, and such, we break the chains."
Dante looks between the five. A firesoul sorceress, a bard, a soldier, and two monks. "Ya'll are pretty eager to go get yourselves killed," he says with a wild grin. Gargax shoots Dante a glare. They have gone over this. The tiefling's chair slams down onto the floor. "Oh no. I've had a change of heart." Unlikely. "Running straight into a sword isn't exciting. Into DANGER?" his hands clap together so sharply that everyone has his attention. "Maestro, a tune, if you will," he asks the book reading man.
"Its Clint," Clint reminds Dante, putting his book aside.
"Not today," Dante Leone says, rising to his feet, snatching the book from his hand, "Today it is Dante Leone!" He taps the book, "For my exploits are documented far and wide." Neither is true. "And today you all will be put in the memory of every man, woman, and child that cried 'Oh, for the time that we assaulted a city in the SKY with fire and fury to save a city unto itself'."
The rising speech is met with reasoned skepticism. Yet the old soldier knows the value of morale. "The day we open up a shot for you, so you can save the day?"
Cinder chuckles darkly and the Order monks join in.
"Yes!" Dante says in stride, putting an arm around Gargax and sweeping a hand out like an artist's brush. "The Five Heros and Dante Leone, the chapter shall be called." Clint responds back with, "Nameless heroes? Not fair, is it?" Dante remarks, "I can speak well of you. I'll call you, hmm," and Clint cuts him off, "Clint." Dante shakes his head sharply, "Clint is a stupid name." Clint disagrees.
"Caerymon the Wise, able to heal the wounds of many through ancient, lost magics," Dante spins a tale of fiction. "Lavina the Unburnt, an elemental of fire and destruction. Gargax the," he looks at the old soldier, "incredibly boring. We need one 'normal' in the group."
Alessa, the female monk, tilts her head to the side. "I'll not have our Order slandered so. We have broken many vows by interferring. I'll not see it gone through the mud further." The other monk nods silently.
Dante squints his eyes, "That so? Hmm. Hmm!" He is thinking. "Then, some fact in the fiction. Why break oath? I can work it in."
Alessa looks to the other monk and says, "Our grandmaster forbade us from entering in the war between Xan'theril and the southern Alliance. Yet she permits us to aid those effected. Being here could be perceived as both. We would do well to keep our involvement secret, and let the lives saved be recompense enough."
"So. You are not breaking an oath? Not technically," the mischievous captain asks.
"Not technically," she nods her head once.
"One solemn duty-bound type, check. Though I'll have the strong silent type there in armor. And you with more..." Dante begins, making hourglass motions with his hands.
"I want to be Dante," Clint says, standing up. The tiefling turns his gaze towards him. "Its not a good story if Dante is on the ship, far from danger. Dante Leone is the type to be in the thick of danger. Have the person firing the cannon be an admiral of a sky pirate fleet."
Dante looks offended at his sudden editing. He thinks about it. Clint throws back in his face, in Dante's voice, "Today it is Dante Leone." The tiefling laughs, going over to give Clint a pat on the back. "Oh that wit will serve you well. Try to live up to the name, mm?" Gargax mutters under his breath, "You don't."
Of course, Dante catches that. It is broken by a somber, direct leap of emotion from Cinder. "Thats exactly what is going to happen, Dante," she says, "We are going to live." She slowly stands up, "I finally have a chance to be myself. To be celebrated, rewarded even, for being me. The Targarius army gave me that chance." Her red eyes look to Gargax, "I know I'm reckless, but Im NOT throwing that away. Not today. Not ever." A fist clenches in her hand. "I am fighting for a world where people like me could be accepted. As a tiefling, I thought you might understand that, but you don't." Deep breaths, "You are too busy making fun of us for believing in something because its easy to hide behind that mask."
The silence is tense. It is Gargax that breaks it up.
"Cinder," the old man says softly, "I believe, in his own way, Dante is recording our stories so that we will live on, no matter what happens." He looks to each person in the party, "From Order Monks who are willing to risk exile, to a warm-hearted bard, to a passionate woman." The cool grey eyes of the man settles on Dante, "Because one constant in those tales is that Dante escapes to tell another tale. Another adventure. Right?"
Dante Leone slowly nods his head. "Dante," Gargax says, "record us well. Fire that cannon well. We will give you the shot, on that you have my word."
The silent monk finally speaks, "And mine."
Alessa smiles and nods, "And mine."
Clint winks at Dante, "You can leave out the 'in a blaze of glory' part, but you have mine, too."
Cinder is left silent. Outnumbered in the resolve. A knocking on the door comes the voice of a soldier, "Gargax. Captain Leone, the champion has arrived!" The hustle of footsteps thumbs like mismatched drums as the airship comes to life.
Gargax and Dante are the first out, making their way to the ship itself. "So," Dante says, climbing a ladder, "You never said what you wanted written on your tombstone, old man. Is it 'Gargax, the man who thinks he knows everything'." Gargax replies, "No. For my son, that I leave to him a better world than mine own." In a way, Dante both expected such a noble reply and didn't expect it. None of which matters for either of them as they are greeted by a majestic angel on the ship with dusky wings of black and red, armor as deep as ebony, and a sword that inspires dread.
"Holy..." Dante starts.
Minutes later the airship has made its advance upon the floating city of Skyport. The battle in the air is fierce, but the captain is true to his promise in delivering the two teams to a hasty descent onto solid ground. The head of the company forces march towards a keep while Gargax and the heroes go towards a cathedral.
"Into the breach, old friend," Alexander says, clanging his shield against Gargax's. "Into the breach once more," Gargax nods, breaking off.
"Alright you, lets show these bugs what the might of the Targarius Army is about," shouts Alexander, raising his spear high into the sky. 'Oorrah!' the soldiers shout, rushing the keep. The battle is a frenzied melee. The bugs resemble wasps, humanoid in size, as they swoop down from building to clash bone swords against steel shields. Many are lost on the way towards the keep, where the Champion of Air was last seen arriving.
Crashing through the gates, and several waspmen, a cyclone of air is seen at the center of the keep. "To the champion!" roars Alexander, "Establish a perimeter after the magic. Spearhead the charge onward!" The men draw close to the whirlwind of air, shields up to deflect the hail of arrows from the archers positioned high in the building. The troops are exposed there, but so is the champion once the ward drops.
The ward drops.
No one is there. No one at all.
Alexander stops a moment. Had they been a sacrifice move in this game? He refuses to believe it. "Stand fast!" he shouts, reality coming back into the clear as a hail of arrows storms in. "Hold the ground!" A soldier gurgles as blood spittles from his lips, an arrow jutting from his neck. The trained soldiers tighten the formation, holding shields in a high phalanx.
"Orders," asks his second in command. Third, technically, the second is dead. "We can fall back to the other group, yet," he offers.
"Stay your ground, soldier," grits Alexander, "Arhor'ha needs us. When the champion returns, we need be his shield."
"If... he doesn't return," the second asks, the clamber of arrows on their shields like violent rain.
"He will, soldier," Alexander says with unwavering conviction, "and then we fuck up some bugs. For Arhor'ha!"
The soldiers cheer their final cheer, "For Arhor'ha!"
Arhor'ha has yet other champions on the floating island. The streets they transverse are lightly defended whereas the air and the keep are dense. "This is working," Clint says as delivers the final stab into a waspman soldier. Gargax heads up the stairs to the cathedral where the Hive Queen should be at. "So far, yes, plans rarely do."
Plans rarely do. The five discover that the Wasp Queen herself is already dead. Her body is left high and mangled upon a throne of her own chitin, blood, and gore. It throbs in an unlife of its own, head twitching and chittering out an unearthly song to her brood.
"What, is that," Cinder asks, trying to put to form what grotesque art this cathedral is decorated with.
'My throne,' says a voice ringing in the heads of all five there. The monks steel themselves while the others cup their heads. "You are no Queen," Alessa says, pointing out to the creature on the throne. Humanoid, for certain, with pale, purple skin and beady black eyes.
'The Order of the Sun' the voice continues 'I was not expecting you.' The words feel like lies despite lacking any true tone.
As the rest recover, Gargax checks on Cinder, who is starting to flare up from the mental assault. She bats Gargax's hand away from her. She is fine. "Remember the plan," he rumbles in a low voice.
'What plan' the voice asks, innocently. Waspmen flutter from the ceiling. The exit becomes quickly blocked as the group presses onward.
The ceilings here are covered in some hive-like material. Organic in nature. The attempt to blast the cathedral must not have been an original one. Head ringing, Clint is the first to pop his potion's cork, shake, and throw it at the wall. It is intercepted by a waspman, willing to die to protect his 'Queen', as his blood paints the cold stone and organic hive matter.
'You mean to /kill/ me?' the voice says, 'An unacceptable state.'
The monks look to each other. Teamwork is the key. They throw their potions next, at different points of the wall. As if protected by magic itself, the wasps dive in and intercept. A third is intercepted as Gargax hopes to throw it in the wake of the explosion. "How the HELL..." shouts Cinder, who has the last potion now.
'Isnt it obvious? I am but a god to you. You live only to entertain me, so.'
"He can read our minds," Alessa observes, painfully so.
'Clever girl'
"Guess I'll just have to think less," Cinder says, body engulfing in flames. "Raaaarrrghh!" she dashes forward, motions an erratic serpentine motion as she throws the potion. Leaping with it, through the fire of the explosion, she emerges on the other side unscathed. Fingers dig deep into the baked clay of the throbbing organic material of the wall.
"Cinder," Clint says, noticing the sparks coming off of her. More frequent. More intense.
'Bravado? Yes, a difficult read' The psionic creature admits 'But, to what end? Oh. That.'
Breathing heavy, looking to burn through the wall with her bare hands if she has to, she find that the walls begin to recede. They open up for her. The fresh air of the outside gusts in with the scent of despair as her eyes go wide. "Oh god," she says, skin cracking open in bouts of ember hot fires.
In the distance, an airship is seen burning, descending. The last man holding the keep, heroic as the stand was, is shot down. They are alone. Faced with an impossible foe.
"It can't be," Alessa says as the opening conveys the scene to all.
'It is' says the creature as Cinder falls to her knees. Its uncertain if she is unable to stand due to the influence of the monster or if she has lost the ability to fight off her despair. Emotions run wild, whipping out in flares from her skin. "CINDER!" shouts Clint as the girl explodes into a ball of fire.
'Who is next?'
Clint rushes in next, an outreached hand from Gargax missing him by mere moments. 'Very well' the voice continues on, seeping deep into Clint's mind until the two lock into a mental battle.
'Try to make it interesting' says the psionic, engaging in a mental landscape of darkness as he punches faster than possible into Clint's face. "Raaarrrggh," roars the young man, lunging out slowly. 'Hahaha' laughs the psionic, a god in this realm.
'You think that is air you are breathing here, boy?' he asks him, turning into an ogre. With a large club, he backhands Clint far into the distance.
Clint doesn't land on his feet. He feels the pain and thinks of a haystack, landing in one. 'Finally,' the ogre psionic says, growing a second head and starting on a magical spell.
"You'll rue the day you underestimated me, monster," says the heroic voice of a legend.
'What?' is all the psionic can come up with.
"For I AM DANTE LEONE!" an impossibly dash-to-daring figure says, launching into the fray and beheading one of the ogre's heads, catching it, and spiking it onto the other.
'Arrghh!' bellows the single-headed ogre.
A second voice of Cinder, wearing a red dress, comes besides Clint, who wears a rogue's jacket and rapier. "Dante, avenge me!" Giving Cinder a single rose he says, "Cinder, we avenge him together." Swoon. And with the power of love and friendship, they unleash a beam of fire onto the ogre.
'Arrrghh. ENOUGH!' bursts the psionic out of fantasy playtime in the mental realm. He appears as two large eyes. Looming. Foreboding. Cinder all but turns to ash before Clint's eyes. The pressure is overbearing as he stops being able to breathe.
In the real world, Gargax is holding a Clint, who is on the ground, spasming in seizures as his mind is being melted in the battle. "Clyde! Hold on!" the old man mispeaks, powerless to watch a young man dying in his arms. Again.
"I... am Dante Leone," Clint gurgles out, "I... am Dante Leone." Gargax grips him tightly, lowering his forehead to the youth's. "You can do this..."
A gentle breeze comes from outside as the clouds give to a rumbling of thunder from outside. The silence that follows is brought by another sound as an airship crashes through the opening, thundering down wood and splinters as half of the cathedral is removed in its violent passing.
The crashing chaos comes to an end as the survivors are greeted with the cloudy skies. Rain. The throne is removed and so is its psionic king, but not without cost.
Gargax holds Clint as he mumbles over, "I... am..." and it begins to fade. Alessa takes a shredded jacket, capped with fur at the top, made of fine, fashionable leather, and lays it atop of Clint's body. The young man clings to it with both hands. Gripping weakly at first. Strongly. He says with renewed vigor, "I am Dante Leone."