And There Were Only Ruins

CNs: Graphic descriptions of heavy violence and death (of young adults and children-ish people), lots of sad shit, drugging, very vague mentions of sex

Dramatis Personae:

Students:

Becks (Tabaxi)

Faquarl (Air Genasi)

Lucy (Tabaxi)

Otho (Dwarf )

Lethe (Halfling)

Yhendorn (Wood Elf)

Masters:

Na’caasha (Tabaxi)

Tardlur (Tortle)

They-who-dance-on-rain (Aarakocra)

On Quo (Vedalken)

Sicario (Tabaxi)

Act I: The Feast

Laughter filled the dining hall. It was a special day at Gato-Saka: Today was grand master Na’caasha’s 90th name day. The old Tabaxi sat at the head of the masters’ table, a position she had inherited nearly fourty years ago from her predecessor. Under her guidance and watchful eye Gato-Saka had grown, and today it counted nearly a hundred students.

Many of them were here and enjoyed the huge feast, paying their tribute to Na’caasha to whom many of them owed their life and more. To a lot of them, she was more than just a master. She was also a motherly figure, and her cheeky humour and sound advice made her beloved by all.

Next to her sat the masters, who were all there: Master Tardlur who taught history sat next to master On Quo, who taught Arcane arts to every student with the according gift. The Vedalken sat to Na’caasha’s left. opposite to master Sicario, who was her right hand in more than one way. Since she had lost her physical right hand two decades ago, Sicario had overtaken the practical training of martial arts. Even now his Greatsword hung over the back of his chair, looking like a monstrous extension of the velvet black Tabaxi’s spine.

Other present high masters were master Agasallo who oversaw the spiritual and religious education and master They-who-dance-on-rain, who was simply called Rain by most students. When Rain stood up and held a toast on the monastery and Na’caasha, Becks’ memory just- 

having a drink with master Sicario, an unreadable expression in his eyes.. Na’caasha winking at her and telling her not to miss her guard shift tonight even despite the alcohol... laughing with Xaro and Amber, who dropped a hint to maybe join them in their quarters tomorrow night... Rain playing on their lute and dancing, filling the room with their mesmerizing performance while everyone else in the room stared in awe..

What did she do here again? She could feel cold stones in her back and see something bronze in front of her.. she thought. It was all still so blurry. She pawed at her belt until she got hold of her lyra. With shaky hands she played a single chord and let the magic of the song flow through her. Immediately she felt better, to a point where she could stand up on her own.

Now she knew where she was: On the watch tower of the monastery where she belonged, since she… what exactly? Right, she was on guard duty tonight! Had she drunk that much? No way. Still with a cloudy head, she looked over Gato-Saka from above. It must be late, she thought, judging by the temperature and absence of the sun. It had been a warm summer day before, but now the air gave her chills.

There was almost no moonlight today, so the only light came from the bright beacon flame on top of the guard tower, some torches down on the buildings around it and the city at the bottom of the mountain. the refuge was built on.

But no, there was something else.. at first she couldn’t quite make it out. She rubbed her eyes with one hand and strummed another chord, and when she could see again, she noticed two things at once. First, the torches on the north wall were out and the torches on the training hall were being extinguished one by one it seemed.. no, they weren’t! It was more like something was swallowing them, a creeping darkness that slowly made its way towards the students’ quarters. Fuck.
Second, she could hear a quiet whistling and feel something rush towards her through the air.. but the same instant she realized what it was, she already felt multiple impacts spread over her upper body and was being smashed back on the ground. No, that couldn’t be. She glanced down. Two arrow shafts sprouted from her chest and one from  her left shoulder. FUCK.

Then the pain hit, but she had been trained for a case such as this. Even in her confused state, she managed to grab her lyra again and push herself up with the other hand. Hissing in pain she dragged herself forward until she finally got a hold of the large bronze bell’s clapper and swung it as hard as she could.

The deep clang made her head hurt, but it also made a fine tact to play her lyra to. She let herself drop on her back, lifting the lyra just enough to touch it with both hands and play a simple, quick melody. 

As she gritted her teeth, she could feel the arrows slowly being drawn out of her body and her wounds healing. She just prayed the others would wake up before the darkness had swallowed them all.

Act II: Panic

When Xaro awoke, it wasn’t morning yet. That was strange. The big bell was ringing, which was also strange. And there was a figure with a dagger in its hand standing over him, which was very bad. At that moment he was very glad about his survival instincts. His fist shot up and slammed the figure against the wall. It collapsed. Amber wasn’t laying next to him. Where were they? Who was the person with the Dagger?

He did, however, think quickly enough not to shout their name and look around first. it seemed like they weren’t there, but they often took walks at night so that wasn’t out of the ordinary.

Next up: Find out what the hell was happening. His feline ears picked up bodies moving in the other rooms. He grabbed his Greataxe and stepped towards the door. Adrenaline was flowing through him, his mind and body fully awake now. He opened the door to the hallway and saw two similar figures standing there.

They were quietly talking to each other in a language he didn’t speak, and they each had a dagger in their hand. When the door opened, they looked towards Xaro.. or they looked towards his chest. Then they looked up and saw him angrily baring his teeth at them.

He roared. Hopefully that would wake the others up. He tackled them, intending to crush one of them into a wall; instead, their combined weight broke through the thin wooden wall and they fell down, making even more noise and literally squishing the unknown assassin under Xaro’s body.

He felt something sting in his back and rolled around on the ground, axe in hand, and slashed the other assassin in two above his hips. Blood sprayed everywhere, covering Xaro’s entire chest and making his nostrils flare in bloodlust. He hadn’t felt like this in years, not since.. no. He had no time for that.

Hastily, he looked around and saw that he had broken into Jasmin’s room.. and apparently had come too late. She was laying under her blanket, almost peacefully if it hadn’t been for her cut throat. A large pool of blood had formed on and under her sleeping mat, and the sight of his friend’s corpse almost was enough to make the bloodlust fade again.

But only almost, because in that moment three new hooded figures stepped through the hole he had just ripped into the wall. One of them raised his hand. Xaro knew this gesture from Lucy. He knew they were about to cast a spell, and probably would’ve succeeded, but all of a sudden he heard a familiar voice yell “Get OUT!”.

All three of them collapsed in a surge of sickly yellow light and dropped to the floor, devoid of all life.

Xaro stuck his head out of the hole in the wall. At the end of the hallway stood master On Quo, breathing heavily. His head was bleeding. Xaro could not see a wound, but the Vedalken did not look good. “Xaro! See if others survived and get them to the library, I’ll meet you there and teleport us out, quickly!” 

Xaro just growled and nodded. Master On Quo always knew what to do, much like Amber. He didn’t bother to ask about the other masters, instead focusing on the task at hand. He opened the next door. Faquarl was rolling around on the floor, entangled in a desperate embrace with one of the assassins who tried to stab him with his dagger but couldn’t because Faquarl squirmed around too much. With a single step, Xaro was over them.

He laid all his momentum in a powerful kick, separating the two combatants and giving Faquarl some breathing room. The latter wasted no time, let a whip of purple energy spring forth from his hand and struck the assassin’s back with a wide motion. Xaro smelled burnt flesh. The assassin stopped moving. 

Faquarl just nodded at him, a person of few words as always. Together, they searched the other rooms. Too many were dead, but they could rescue some and pick up others who had already overcome their respective foe. Meanwhile, an apparent fight broke out in the courtyard.

Xaro could not see it, but he could hear blades clashing and magic going off. He just hoped the masters would handle this like they always did, but the strange force that had ambushed the monastery seemed to resemble a small army in numbers. How did these men get in here? What did they want? Where was Amber?

Those questions would have to wait. Together with a small group of other frightened students, he opened the main door of the student’s quarters building and stepped from the comfort of the sleeping querters into total pandaemonium.

Act III: The Bloodbath

The monastery's courtyard was a mess. The central plateau, where normally young students played light hearted games, resembled a slaughterhouse. The masters Rain and Tardlur stood there, and despite the cruelty of the spectacle surrounding them it was a sight to behold. 

Tardlur, steadfast as a boulder twirled both his arms in flowing, neverending circles and the nunchakus in his claws smashed one head after another while his feet barely moved, his naturally armored body a true rock in the surf. 

Master Rain next to him.. danced. They had always said their dance had fourty-two forms and their students would only get to see a few of them, but none had ever believed any of the forms could be this destructive.
Rain's movements were a work of art, every step, flip and hit perfectly choreographed, and each time their body made contact with one of the intruders, he collapsed and held his joints, screaming in agony.
As inspiring as they were, the enemies' number was just too high. 

All around them, on the large granite plates of Gato-Saka's beautiful garden, students were slaughtered and more attackers readied themselves to join the fray. The masters would not be able to hold them in check forever.

That was the scenario that presented itself to the students as they stepped out of their quarters and got surrounded by the air of this summer night, filled with screams and blood.
Xaro quickly assessed the situation through the red veil in front of his eyes. The masters largely kept the intruders in the yard occupied; So far, it seemed like nobody had noticed the small crowd exiting the building.
With a low growl, Xaro ordered the students to make a run for the library building, along the edges of the yard.
They could see its doors were bust open, the large oak door leafs scattered on the ground before it. They rushed over and almost made it there unscathed, when suddenly four more of the hooded figures stepped forth into the open. Xaro's heart pounded. 

He might be able to take them all, but that would be loud, and the noise would attract others, and then they would be doomed. He raised his Axe, the intruders in turn raised their swords.

Then, almost in perfect synchronicity, they fell. Two of them had an arrow stuck in one of their eyes, while the other two's throats got impaled by a slim dagger each. From behind a nearby tree, two Tabaxi revealed themselves- and Xaro could not have been happier about anyone else.

Amber, a dark tortoiseshell Tabaxi with a bow in one hand supported high master Na'caasha with their other arm. The master was bleeding and heavily panting, her sole remaining hand holding two more daggers. It seemed the old Tabaxi had all but lost her edge, even despite her old age.

"Quickly!" she hissed, nodded towards the library and then groaned in pain as Amber half dragged, half shoved her forward towards the door.

The entered, just to find the once neatly tidied up libary in complete disarray. Many of the age-old books and tomes in this place had been tattered and destroyed. Xaro looked around and could see that everyone who could muster the attention was deeply saddened by this; Many of the books were worth a small fortune in spiritual value.

"Where is master On Quo? He said he was going to meet us here!" He coughed out, tasting blood. That sting back in the quarters must have been a dagger in his back. It didn't hurt too badly yet, but that was probably due to the adrenaline. "Not here. I will go get him."

Everyone turned and saw that it was Na'caasha who had spoken. The master seemed to be in terrible shape, one of her thighs held a deep cut that heavily bled. Amber next to her immediately raised their voice, the normally so silken tone stained with panic. "Master, no! You can't do this, just look at yourself! Let me, I'm almost as unnoticable as you and still have two good legs. I can do it." 

Na'caasha just shook her head with a sad little smile. 

"You wish. Is Lethe here? Lethe?" 

She repeated, louder this time. From among the students, a clearly frightened albino Halfling made his way to the front. "Ah, good. See what you can do for my leg, please. I need to walk again, as fast as possible."

Lethe timidly nodded and hurried over, tending to the master's wounds. His hands glowed white as he drew them along the edges of the wound, elliciting another hiss from his master.

In here, the sounds of the battle were muffled, almost as if it took place far away. The solid wooden walls of the libary kept it all out and provided a sense of false safety. Xaro had always loved the libary. He'd never spent as much time here as Becks or Lucy, but it had always been a place of comtemplation and calm to him. Even now, with the battle raging outside, the smell of the old tomes and scrolls carried a portion of that feeling with them.

Finally, the bloodlust faded. Xaro wished it wouldn't. He appreciated being able to think clearly again, but with that clarity, the guilt came. 

He had killed again. Multiple People. After he had promised himself to avoid it, after all these years of bloodshed in the arena. The guilt was like a bottomless pit gaping below him, but just as he was about to fall, the High Master's determined voice cut through his perception like a dagger of glass. 

"This will suffice. Thank you, Lethe. I will go now and get master On Quo, and hopefully Sicario too. You stay here. Amber, see to it that everybody stays together." 

Amber nodded instantly, ever obedient to the older Tabaxi. "I will hopefully be back shortly. Be weary, but, under no circumstances, leave this building. Gato-saka needs to survive, and it's nothing without you. Take care." With that, Na'caasha pulled up the hood of her coat and turned around, fading into the darkness and leaving the few dozens of students alone. 

Lethe had done good work on her leg; All that remained of the deep wound was a faint pulling sensation whenever she strained the muscle, so she felt comfortable putting her entire weight on that leg again.

That, however, did not make her worry much less. Na'caasha was old, a fact she was now made painfully aware of. Her back hurt with every step she took and her reflexes weren't nearly as quick as they had been in her prime. And that damn hand she was missing didn't make it any easier. She just hoped she would be able to get her students out. They might not have understood the full scale of the danger they all were in, but the weathered master was old enough to see a total defeat when she saw one. Now, her only priority was saving as many lives as possible, no matter the cost.

She sent a desperate eulogy to all the gods that would hear her to make her body serve its purpose a little longer and for the second time that night entered the inferno.

 

Act IV: The Red Right Hand

The massacre in the courtyard had ended. Na'caasha allowed herself a sigh of relief, before she saw the reason. They-who-dance-on-rain, her old and treasured friend, had found their demise at last. Their corpse was laying in the centre of the yard, the bodies multiple enemies the silent witnesses of their last stand. 

From where Na'caasha was standing it was impossible to determine the exact reason of their death because their body was covered in blood and wounds from head to toe. Tardlur was nowhere to be seen.

The Tabaxi squinted her eyes. She would grieve later. For now, there was a goal to accomplish and not much time to do it, as the increasing stench of smoke in the air forebode. 

All of the main buildings were now burning: The student's quarters, the dining hall, the training dojo.. where would On Quo be? A bright flash yellow from the master's quarters drew her attention. 

That was his spells' signature color. Na'cassha sighed again. Maybe the gods had heard her pleas after all. 

She cloaked herself in shadows, passing through the vicinity of the intruders that remained in the yard without trace. 

In her youth, that kind of subtile magic had been like second nature to her. 

Now, when she arrived at the master's quarters' back door, she heavily panted. Only a little longer. She stepped inside the house that had been her home for decades, through the empty hallways and up the stairs towards the room she had seen the light flash from. 

When she reached the second floor, she could hear fighting noises around the corner. 

Her fist clenched around her dagger she braced herself and closed up to the skirmish. She didn't dare to use her shadow magic again; She would need all of her remaining strength to get herself and On Quo back to the library in one invisible piece. 

When she looked around the corner though, her panic-ridden heart immediately got a considerable amount lighter. There, almost at the end of the hallway that connected the rooms of the second floor, was her friend and trusted advisor Sicario. 

He was outnumbered, but the High Master had seen him fight often and long enough to know he had the situation under control. His greatsword cleaved through leather, flesh and bones as he made quick work of the three assailants around him. 

Then he looked over his shoulder and saw Na'caasha. Only his ears would have been able to hear her coming, and she expected him to look relieved at her sight, but instead what she saw in his eyes was only shock, surprise and.. guilt?

"Sio!" She yelled out the name only she was allowed to call him. "Is On Quo in there? I gathered a crowd of students at the library, he can teleport us down to the city!" Sicario swung his sword around. It was splattered with the attackers' red blood and another liquid Na'caasha couldn't identify. "He's in there." He confirmed, keeping his coarse voice low. He pointed towards the door. "He might need you." 

Worried, the old Tabaxi rushed over. "What is it?" 

Sicario remained still, just standing in the middle of the corridor, the blade in both hands. "Is he hurt?"

She opened the door and freezed.
On Quo was laying on the door opposite the wall. His robes were torn. His always so wise face was contorted in fear and surprise, and across his chest was a deep cut, so deep Na'caasha could see his spine.

In this moment, she realized three things.

First, the Vedalken's blood was of a deep purple.

Second, the stains on Sio's blade had been of the same color.

Third, only Sio's blade would be able to inflict a cut this deep, and he had never unintentionally hurt someone.

"I'm sorry." 

That was all she heard before her chest erupted in searing, all-consuming pain.

Act V: A Lantern

Sicario yanked his sword out of her back. Once, he had trusted her most out of all people in the whole wide world, and this had been mutual. Now, as much as he hated it, a new period of his life would have to begin. 

Gone was Sicario, the High Master's right hand and caring armourer of Gato-Saka. 

He would now be Sio, the refugee and sellword. With his skillset, jobs wouldn't be hard to get. He turned around and walked down the corridor, wiping his sword with the robes of the attackers when he passed them. Then he stepped around the corner and was gone. 

Yhendorn couldn't believe his eyes.

The young wood elf had climbed up the facade of the building on the other side to

avoid possible encounters because he, too, had seen On Quo's magic and wanted to ask him what to do. When he had seen master Sicario cut through the strangers in the hallway, he had first wanted to reveal himself, but something seemed off. So he had stayed hidden away in another master's room and witnessed the betrayal with his own eyes. 

Distraught, he forced himself to wait another moment before sprinting over to the Tabaxi's body. The High Master had slumped forward and now layed on her front, blood pulsing out of the terrible wound in her back. While that was terrifying and he didn't have the knowledge required to save her, it at least meant she was still alive. He grabbed her shoulder and turned her around, recoiling at the overwhelming odor of blood. 

He had been right: She was still alive. Her gaze drifted and she was barely breathing, but still alive. Then her eyes fixated on him. Despite the absolutely terrible shape she was in, her eyes still burned into him with the usual intensity. She prepared to say something, but a cough shook her ravaged body and she choked up a torrent of blood.

After a second, she tried again. "Yhendorn.." It wasn't much more than a whisper, but the elf could understand her well. "Remember.. what Rain.. taught you? We're.. doomed." She had to take breaks between words, clinging to every second, every breath, every beat of her pierced heart, she managed to muster the strength to keep talking. "But you can.. save us, even if... we have to die. You understand?"

Fear gripped Yhendorn. What his master was speaking of was something he had only done in theory, and he was scared to death at the thought of trying it in practice. But if this was Na'caasha's dying wish, he would try his best to oblige.

He nodded. 

"Good.. may you be.. be a lantern.. for the dead." With that, her head fell back and hit the ground with a soft thud.

Yhendorn tried to calm himself. He tried to remind himself of his lessions, of master Rain's words, but he couldn't. His mind was racing, the panic was too much, and the fire crept up on him like a snake, hungrily licking his skin.

It was too much.

He dropped her body, turned around, ran, stumbled, fell down the staircase, got up again, ran further, fell again, got up again, panting, coughing, it was too much, he couldn't do it, it was too much-

And then he saw him. Laying at the door to the master's quarters, a small but sturdy silhouette, half consumed by the fire already. 

Otho. His best friend. Seeing him lay there, paradoxically, didn't terrify him even more. Instead it filled him with determination. Be a lantern. 

And when he reached out with his magic it was almost intuitive, just like master Rain had said. He could feel himself and the space around him, and then he stretched his consciousness out until he touched Otho's body.. no, not his body. His soul. He allowed his consciousness to surround Otho's, embrace it, share all the pain he had felt the moment he died, and when he opened his eyes again, he found a dark marble in his hand. It almost looked like it was made of granite, but somehow moved inside, like it was alive. 

To his terror, the few seconds he had spent in that particular space of mind had been enough for the fire to close the distance. 

His left sleeve had already caught fire, but when he tried to pull it out of the blaze, he heard a loud crack above him and before he could react, a huge burning plank fell from the ceiling and grazed his left arm. 

The heavy plank didn't smash him to the ground but it tore along his entire arm and shoulder, and they immediately became numb. The smell of burnt flesh arose. 

Fighting the gut-wrenching sensations that barraged his senses, he stumbled outside. 

The last thing he noticed was that the library had started burning as well and the enemies were swarming over there, then he faded away into a soft kind of unconsciousness that hugged him like a cool cloud of mist.

Within the following two hours, every last monastery building would have burned down.

The army of mysterious invaders, though significantly decimated, would have been long gone by the time the worried people of the town reached the ruins.

Under the remaints of the library, only a handful of students survived, barely holding on to their lives after holding their ground all the way until the moment the roof collapsed on top of them, waiting for their masters to the very end. 

All of them had lives of adventure, laughing and crying, new friends and new heartbreaks ahead of them, some more than others.

But for now, almost all of their friends were dead, their home had been ripped away from them, and there were only ruins.