Animator Ch. 3&4

Chapter 3
         Davin woke with a dream quickly fading from his mind and a knot in his stomach. His heart beat faster then ever before and he was inexplicably scared. He sat up in bed with a scream stuck in his throat. Fear threatened to choke him. His mind spun until the voice of Maestro Speare boomed with a clarion volume, ”DAVIN! CENTER BOY! CENTER! OR YOU’LL NEVER CHANNEL ANIMA CORRECTLY!” He found himself automatically controlling his breathing, his heart rate dramatically slowing down until it pumped every two seconds. He found himself drawing in Anima only to let it flow from him in a concentrated form. Lights poured from his hands then dissipated a few moments later.
         The next thing he knew he was at his desk in his shabby room drawing furiously on his sketch pad. The weight of the dream pushed at him but with each sketch a little of the pressure disappeared. Then he was finished and he stared at his newest creation. He stared until he had a moments revelation. He had drawn a flying-machine. Sure there were dirigibles but this, this sketch was of a sleek wicked looking machine. He could tell just from the drawing that it would fly smoother even faster then today’s dirigibles.
         His mind began to race but before it could go far the high from sketching left him. Fatigue followed close behind. His knees went out from  underneath him and he landed unceremoniously onto his bed. He felt out of breath and his arms shook with exertion. He lay staring at his dingy ceiling as night pressed in against his window. He listened to the night life beyond the Studio and wished that he could be out there roaming the night, instead of in his room alone.
         He could tell that sleep was beyond him so he took a quick sponge bath and dressed himself. Slipping his lucky pencil behind his ear he eased the door to his room open glancing down the hall. His parents had long ago abandoned him at the Studio. It didn’t faze him anymore because he had found a new family: Ilsa and Pablo. As a younger boy he had plagued the school and made himself notorious for practical jokes. Then Maestro Speare had one day taken him aside. He took Davin deep in the forest to cave made of glass. It sparkled and shone with a brilliance the likes of which Davin had never seen or would ever see again.
         The Maestro had explained that the cave was a sacred place used to gauge how strong one was with Anima. Also the cave could help choose an Implement and told those present what Artform the center of the ceremony would most likely take up. Davin had made snide remarks the whole time until his stomach started turning over. Speare watched the idea form in Davin’s mind before continuing that when  he was a child left on the door step of the Studio he was brought to the cave. The Grand Maestro and others had performed the ceremony only something had happened. He never did tell Davin what but he had told him that the boy was a Prodigy and that he would meet great success in his future.
         Now years later he was still without an Implement or Artform. For all intents and purposes he was the weakest disciple at the Studio. Even though he had the highest marks in all his classes and he could do general castings. Sad part was knowing that to do the higher Artforms one needed an Implement and none had called to him. Some of the top Maestros and even professionals sworn to help a Creatoran to find their Implement couldn’t help Davin. Three years ago he had come to terms with never finding his Artform and with that his dreams of becoming one of the heroic Animators faded away.
         He crept along the hallway dodging long ago remembered creaking steps of obnoxiously acoustic hallways. He made it to the library without once being seen and slipped through the doors. The librarian had retired some time in the night and Davin preferred it that way tonight. The library, like the hill, were his personal worlds. In those places he could lose himself or delved deep inside himself whichever he needed at the time. Tonight, he decided he would delve into himself. Not literally, meditation was beyond him but he had a sharp mind and knew techniques that would draw the dream from earlier back to the surface. And if the dream evaded him, he could still pore through the library books to help make his flying-machine a possible reality.
         The library was immense. High vaulted windows graced the varnished wood panels and pearlescent staircases. The Studio was tall to be sure but most of that was for the library. Three stories of books from all over Creatora and thousands of journals and manuscripts from Animators and Maestros alike. Davin got lost countless times in the books and theories of some of the greatest minds Creatora could boast. If everything was going to the crows he would escape to other lands or fantastic places hidden away in the many books.
         Tonight was different. He didn’t want to get lost, tonight, he wanted to stay firmly in this world, however bad it got. He wandered the aisles catching glimpses of the books he loved and others that fed the theorist in him. Until, he came to the section he needed. Creatora was at its finest. The newest Era had spawned a time of creations and exploration. A sort of renaissance that improved the world at large. The biggest achievement yet: Machina. Machina ranged from anything from dirigibles, to weapons, to any other mode of transportation.
         He was one of the few who was attracted to the cold sleek metal and little knobs and dials. Something about creating an almost living moving thing pleased him. He could draw, sketch, paint, and even do a little tune now and then. Something about Machina thrilled him, though. Now his mind had done what it did best: present him with a challenge. He skimmed through the few rows on Machina grabbing different books that he would need: The Guide to Cogs and Wheels, Theories of Flight, Parts for a  Mechanics Needs.
         Soon he was drifting in a sea of Machina parts and theories on flying. His mind devoured it all sealing it away to be poured through later. He took notes, formed his own theories and by then his stomach was threatening to mutiny against him. He stretched with that wondrous ache of sitting in a position to long, yawning. Pre-dawn light streamed through the high vaulted windows and Davin decided to raid the Mess Hall. He started the climb down to the first floor when the librarian walked through the door. Aurelia was a slim woman composed of wiry muscles and a keen intellect. Her platinum blond hair fell past her knees and was rarely braided or tied back. Her pale skin and midnight blue eyes gave her an ethereal quality that Davin never tired of seeing.
         She smiled at Davin’s gaping, “Morning Davi.” She glanced behind him and frowned, “A little late night reading,” she questioned. Davin slammed his mouth shut fearing the orbiting flies, “Y-Yes Ms. Aurelia,” he stammered. The frowned dissolved in the glow of her smile. “You put all the books back in there rightful places right?” she asked. He managed a nod but his voice seemed to have abandoned him. “Good boy, now run along and grab some breakfast before you waste away,” she purred. He shivered involuntarily. She brushed by him leaving him shaken and weak.
         Aside from Ilsa, Aurelia was one of the few women that he liked and who in turn liked him back. She thought he was cute with his school-boy crush that he had blurted out the second time he saw her. Now she constantly teased him, playfully of course, never taking it too far or to seriously with him. She also shared his love of Machina and the many theories it bore. Lately she would hide away letting him feel he was alone and then surprise him with answers or just the right book. Then she would stay up late with him bouncing theories and ideas back and forth until both of them could hardly keep their eyes open. Then she would push all the books away and demand that he go get a nap or some food.
         As much as he enjoyed the time with her. He still prized his solitude. Among other things. He scampered through the halls until he hit the oak wood doors to the Mess Hall. The Mess Hall was larger then most farms could boast. It was an acre long and half an acre across. Large enough for a small army to sit and eat. Food followed an ever changing schedule that even Davin couldn’t understand. Today was rice broth with large chunks of chicken strewn about and some strange noodles from the eastern lands. It was a heavy meal that filled him in just five bites. He forced the rest down knowing that in an hours time he would be hungry again.
         By the time he finished the first morning bell rang and the Mess Hall flooded with disciples. He caught a glimpse of Ilsa and Pablo in line talking heatedly about something and then both bursting into giggles. He felt a smile stretch his lips. He snuck around the line assuring people he’d already eaten and was just going to visit friends. He said hi to a few others and came up behind the only pair he really cared about. He summoned Anima to him slowly so that by the time he was only a foot away from the pair they would be accustomed to the level of power. He imagined a flash of light and a loud noise, he grinned to himself then released the casting with a triumphant cry.
          Ilsa, the ever paranoid, turned in a blur of speed a counter casting glowing in her hands obliterated his own meager casting. Meanwhile, Pablo spun a half-second after Ilsa releasing a casting much like Davin’s. The casting hit Davin square in the chest and forced him onto his butt where lights played around behind his eyelids. He cursed out loud and then laughed. When the lights finally faded his sight resolved to the two smiling wolfishly down at him.
         “When did you notice,” he asked.
          “Oh about the time you started summoning Anima,” Ilsa said, “you never were really good at veiling when you summoned power.”
         Pablo just laughed to himself and offered a helping hand. Davin took it and clapped his friend on the shoulder. “See who says you can’t cast,” he joked. “Aris duh,” Pablo answered. They chatted a bit and he wandered off to there normal table by the door to wait for them. He couldn’t help smiling even as his ribs ached from the Forcecast Pablo and hit him with. He figured nothing would ruin his morning.
         Until a shadow fell across him.
Goliath stood hulking over him with a glower. Medea stood just to the side of Goliath pinning him with a wintry stare. “Davin, you’re sitting at our table,” she hissed. Davin looked down at her and returned her smile with one just as cold as hers. “Good morning to you too Ice Princess,” he jibed. Her eyes narrowed to slits and Goliath growled deep in his throat. Something Davin felt more then he heard. He heard knuckles pop as Goliath balled his hands into fists. The tension suddenly intensified. Davin suppressed the urge to gulp. Never show fear to a predator.
He slid his hands under the table as Medea slid hers behind her back and Goliath augmented his body with Anima. He spared a glance around him and felt his stomach drop out at the now empty tables all around him. So much for help. He cast a glance at the line catching a glimpse of Pablo looking at the threesome with a frown. Davin realized they would never get to him in time to help.
In the hopes of staying alive Davin did what he did best in a hairy situation. He tried to calm the situation down.
“Medea be reasonable,” he said, “we’ve been sitting here for over three years and it’s early in the morning. Why don’t you grab one of these empty tables and we can duke it out later.” He kept his tone friendly. Medea’s eyes widened.
“The strong willed Davin backing down from a fight,” she goaded. Davin ignored the jab, it was better then defending his honor and ending up in the Medical Wing for a week. Medea abruptly went rigid hand reappearing from behind her. Goliath followed suite. Without a word, the twosome walked two tables over and sat down, where they could glare at Davin, he noted dimly. Frowning Davin looked behind him and smiled at the sight. Maestro Speare stared daggers at the disciples but mostly aimed at Medea and Goliath. He turned the glare at Davin and nodded as if saying, you should be okay now. Davin returned the nod.
A short time later Ilsa and Pablo joined him. They chatted back and forth laughing about their classes and silly projects. Davin unveiled the flying-machine to the awe of the pair. Pablo was genuinely impressed with the notes and theories now scrawled in the margins of the sketch. Ilsa just smiled approvingly at it all. Davin waited for Pablo to finish gushing over the possibilities. Then: “I want to actually build it.” Pablo positively glowed and nodded vigorously. Ilsa frowned and studied the sketch.
“Davi, it could be possible but,” she paused, “the parts you would need would be more then a years pay.” Davin’s hopes went into convulsions. Davin was about to suggest a plan when Pablo surprised them both. “We could go to the Metal works and take the scrap left over.” Ilsa’s smiled again while Davin openly gaped. The thought had never crossed his mind.
Then with a triumphant grin, “That is perfect.”
Pablo started brainstorming openly with Davin. A half hour later Davin and Pablo were practically foaming at the mouth. Both were so lost in their conversation neither one noticed Medea nor Goliath looming over them until Ilsa squeaked. Davin looked up in time to catch a swift jab to his jaw. Lights exploded in his vision and he toppled out of his chair with a grunt. The lights faded to Goliath bear hugging both Ilsa and Pablo while Medea stood over him. Both Ilsa’s and Pablo’s eyes were wide showing to much white. Davin could actually see their pulses jumping. Medea’s smile was positively vulpine.
“You said later,” She purred, “it’s later.” Before, Davin could even make a witty remark she kicked him in the gut, hard. The air left him in a rush, his visions starting to tunnel. He could dimly hear Ilsa and Pablo struggling and shouting but to no avail. Medea went to kicking his legs, stomach and face with equal opportunity. Davin’s vision darkened at the edges, the pain drifting off with the darkness. Davin tried to call Anima to him but with each kick his concentration wavered until he finally gave up. He felt Medea call Anima and with a hiss, trapped Ilsa and Pablo in a Restraintcast. The air wavered around them like heat waves on a sizzling summer day.
He felt Goliath lift him onto their lunch table. He barely registered when Medea said, “Scare him.” Goliath lifted a sledgehammer of a fist and dropped it with terrifying speed and power. Davin’s mind screamed for him to move. He obliged grudgingly a bare second before the fist slammed down on the table. The fist landed with a sound like a thunderous explosion. Everyone blinked at the fist. Even Goliath had a startled expression locked on his face. He tested again without another spectacular sound effect. Medea opened her mouth to say something when another explosion tore through the morning air. A scream pierced the air, feral and almost inhuman. It went on for a second or two dying with a wet gurgle.
The group froze by the sheer pain and horror in that one scream. Each looked toward the front gate of the Studio. Another explosion rocked the very stones of the Mess Hall. Students, Maestros, and Guards alike stood in abject awe waiting to see what happened next. Davin took the opportunity to roll off the table and Countercast Medea’s Restraintcast. Ilsa nodded her thanks while Pablo rubbed at his arms. Guards poured through the east doorway heading west towards the front gate. Those Guards that were in the Mess Hall lounging followed their peers re-strapping their weapons and fitting their armor.
Students began panicking some crying others screaming everyone frightened. Davin immediately grabbed Ilsa by the hand and she followed his lead by grabbing Pablo’s. He shouted over the chaos, “Whatever happens don’t let go!” The pair nodded numbly. Then he was pulling them both through the crowd. He shoved, shouted, hit and was returned in kind. People in the hall screamed or yelled trying to find out what happened. Davin ignored it all heading for his room.
The trio entered his room bruised, confused, and scared. Davin hadn’t seen one Guard or Maestro from their trudge through the chaotic hallways. That most of all scared him. If whatever had caused the explosion forced Guards and Maestro alike to rush to the defense of the Studio, meant that they were dangerous indeed. He spared no time grabbing up clothes for himself or his friends and stuffing them in a bag. Pablo drew out his Implement: a small painters brush that glowed slightly with stored Anima. Ilsa didn’t have her Implement, she prided herself on keeping it a secret which normally meant hiding it away from her person.
When he was ready Davin announced, “Alright whatever is happening is happening at the front of the Studio,” he let that sink in then, “which means we are heading towards the back as far away from the fight as possible. I’m no hero and Anima willing I’m going to keep you both safe. I don’t know what is going on but that scream is enough to scare me.”
Ilsa replied, “We watch each others backs, stay close, and we’ll be fine.” She managed a confident smile. Davin didn’t think he would have been able to smile with what was going on. Pablo nodded, “Take the lead Davi, we’ll follow,” he smiled, fear lacing his words, “I’ll be in the back since I have a weapon.” He gestured at his brush pushing more power into it while he spoke until it shone brightly in his hand. Davin approved, never can have enough power behind your punch.
Davin took a bit of string tying it around each of their waists. It was strong enough to hold if they ran, but weak enough that if they tried to separate it would snap. He turned to the door and opened it. Immediately he was assaulted with the sounds of people screaming, running and faintly the sounds of a battle. Swords clanged and men screamed in pain and horror. Davin was temporarily frozen, overloaded with so much info. Then Ilsa nudged him and he bolted down the hall towards the back gate. He flowed through the pulsing crowd never stopping, or slowing down. Living in the Studio all his life gave him an innate feel for the stones. He listened to his gut turning down short hallways, through empty class rooms.
Finally the crowd thinned almost entirely. Davin could barely make out the sounds of battle now and a knot in his stomach he hadn’t noticed unclenched. The string stayed taught the whole while. Davin insisted on playing running games so that Ilsa and Pablo could keep up with him. He led them finally to the Eastern Gate. Davin stopped then something in his gut suddenly screaming at him to run. He turned in a slow circle concentrating on the feeling in his gut.
He turned with a frown, “Something is wrong.” Ilsa nodded in a agreement while Pablo watched their backs. Something was off about the Gate. It took Davin endless seconds to realize there were no guards. The Gate was always manned. His frown deepened at the lack of Guards. They couldn’t all be at the front could they? He turned back to the group: “We should-“ he was going to say leave until the wall next to them exploded. Stones catapulted at tremendous speeds, shattering the next wall to pebbles.
A creature unlike any Davin had ever seen stalked through the hole. It stood a good seven feet tall and was easily as wide as Davin was tall. Huge knotted shoulders gave way to long arms that trailed along the ground. Its hands ended in five six-inch cruel looking talons. A hole in the forearm made home to long rubbery looking tentacles that shone with a black ichors. Its legs were almost comically small in comparison to the whole of the creature. It skins was a dank metallic grey. Its head was a long thin thing. It had no eyes only a long mouth that ended in a vicious looking stinger. Davin gawked at it in horror. His mind screamed at him to run to get away from the thing. The creature cast an aura that sucked the life from its surroundings. The ground blackened the air turned toxic.
Ilsa gasped in disgust. Pablo did what any normal child would when scared: he blasted the thing with every ounce of Anima he could muster. He aimed his brush unleashing a bolt of blue energy with a scream of challenge. The bolt caught the creature mid-chest sending it hurling back through the hole with a strange rattling cry of, what Davin hoped, pain. Davin eyed the hole warily. He gave Pablo a nod and the boy sent another bolt into the hole with no noticeable effects.
Ilsa let out a breath. “What in the crows was that!” she exclaimed. Davin didn’t have an answer. Pablo went with a direct approach, “Ugly”. They all nodded in agreement. They passed the hole going long way around. Davin got to the gate and cursed. The lock bar that normally took four empowered Guards too lift, was down. He turned back to the others. “No luck with door,” he made a quick glance around, “guess we go up and over.” The other just nodded.
“If those are what are attacking, then how come everyone is at the front gate,” Ilsa said. “I mean come on Pablo took one down in a hit. The Guards should have easily taken them down.” Davin froze mid-step. Ilsa was right that was too easy. He spun towards the hole to see the creature lift its arm at Pablo. Pablo didn’t wait just watched the surprise on Davin’s face and dived forward. A bare second later one of the tentacles whipped through the air with a whump black ichor scorching the ground where it touched.
Ilsa back-peddled dragging Davin with her. The creature moved with frightening ease. The hole from Pablo’s attack sealing before there eyes like clay molding over a hole. The creature closed the twenty foot distance in seconds, gliding over the ground in an unnatural sprint. It swung it large arm down at Pablo looking for a crush kill. Pablo rolled managing a Flashcast to blind the creature. The things head moved trailing Pablo even without eyes. Davin watched in horror as it aimed its arm for another tentacle attack. Pablo’s eyes widened with fear.
Time slowed down, as the tentacle shot towards Pablo. Davin registered a bolt of purple energy sail through the air to knock the creature back. As well as causing the tentacle to miss. Pablo scuttled away from the thing. Guards appeared from the hole brandishing spears and swords glowing with Anima. Four men circled the creature staying outside of arms reach. Each powered an attack with their weapons sending a rainbow of death spiraling at the thing. Each bolt cut, burned, seared, or smashed into the creature. It screamed in another rattling scream. The men waited until the creature ceased moving then moved up to slice and stab into it.
Davin moved up to the guards, “Sir what is going on?” he asked. The Captain of the group stepped forward. “Son it’s not safe here the three of you should head towards the Auditorium, we’ve set up a perimeter there,” he grumbled. Davin frowned. The Auditorium was the only area in the entire school that could house all the disciples and Maestros while also being the only place that could be easily defended. The only drawback was it was near the front of the Studio where the attack started. “Did the creatures spread through the Studio?” he asked. The Guard eyed him, “Yes boy now get to the Auditorium.”
  Ilsa put a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s just go,” she pleaded. He sighed, “Fine let’s go back.” They collected a very shaken Pablo and started off towards the Auditorium. Davin spared a glanced back to see the creature rise awkwardly aim its arm and impale the nearest guard. He watched as the tentacle slid down into the mans body burning and searing flesh. The guard didn’t even have time to scream, his eyes just rolled back in his head. The mans body turned an ashen grey as the color drained then he fell into a limp heap. Davin shouted a warning to the rest of the guards. The Captain whirled on the creature with a shout plunging his spear completely through the thing.
One the other guards was crushed in a wash of blood and flying bone by one of the thing’s enormous arms. The Captain screamed twisting the spear out of the thing as his last Guard was impaled and drained just like the first Guard. His speared flashed across the creature power flaring from each cut until a montage of symbols glowed in the creatures skin. Only then did the creature turn with a rattling hiss to swing at the Captain. The man moved with a dancers grace causing the thing to miss by a bare inch.
The monster suddenly wailed in a high pitch. Its body started convulsing seeming to collapse in on itself. The symbols flared to miniature suns then with a small flare of light the creature burst into ash in a flash-flame. Davin felt his stomach heave, tried to hold it back then gave in and vomited on the ground. It was insane. In less the five seconds the creature had killed three highly trained Guards. The strength and ferocity of the creatures was unbelievable. Now he understood why the Guards had rushed to the Gate.
He looked up to find the Captain cradling two of his men. Then he quietly stood raised his spear and stalked to look for more students. Davin shuddered for the man. He was alone now searching for wayward students with no hope of backup. Right then he did not envy the Captain.
Ilsa tugged on his shirt, “Davin, Davin we have to go now,” she tugged harder, “there is nothing we can do we have to go.” Eventually she, with the help of Pablo, dragged Davin back towards the Auditorium. Even after they left the carnage behind, he could still see the men being slaughtered in his head. Behind his eyelids every time he closed them.

Chapter 4
         Van woke to sunlight breaking on the horizon. He listened to the chirping of the birds and the sounds of bugs buzzing. Then he heard the worst thing he could have woken up to: men wailing in pain and agony. His heart froze in his chest. He bolted from his cot, muscles and tendons creaking with protests. He ignored the aches and pains methodically packing his things forcing himself to keep it slow and smooth. His old mentor had once told him, smooth is slow, slow is fast.
         He gritted his teeth, a lifetime of war and violence and still he hated listening to men dying. He gripped his Brushspear, if all else failed, his weapons could always console him. He jogged at a steady pace to the Studio checking his surroundings. He centered on his instincts. In a battle things are chaotic. A soldier doesn’t have time to think and examine everything around him. Everything comes down to two things: fear and instincts. The sounds of men dying, blades crashing, and almost overwhelming fear of being caught unaware or unprepared and the only thing that keeps a man alive is his instinct. That inside voice that is more in tune with everyone’s animalistic side.
         Van had years to hone that side of him. He suddenly became aware of fear coating everything. He realized with a shock that all the animals and bugs had gone silent. The forest was dead silent, disturbingly still. He pushed his anxiety to the back of his mind. The spear grew warms as he focused power into tip reinforcing the edge making it more accurate and deadly. He concentrated so hard he barely registered when he hit the edge of the clearing and the Studio came into view.
         The Vague were on a warpath. The front Gate had been weakened by the aura of corruption each Vague Soldier emanated. Then using there impossible strength they tore it from its iron hinges and commenced killing everything in sight. Body parts, blood, and husks of drained people lay strewn in the courtyard beyond. No one had been spared. Van caught glimpses of children of no more then eight years of age bled out on the ground. The Guards, caught unaware were the closest bodies to the gate. He saw a few Maestros from the day before dead in a defensive line in front of the first dead disciples.
         Rage white-hot flared through him. Adrenalin surged through his body. His instincts howled for vengeance for the wrongly dead. He channeled the rage using it for more then just eating away at him. The tip of his spear burst into a phosphorous shine. He set off deeper into the Studio. He found his first kill no more the fifty feet from the front gate. The Soldier had been wounded, its leg severed at the joint. One of its arms had been blasted clean off the wound still gushed black ichor. He howled his anger driving the spear solidly into the Soldiers body. He knew by now that simple damage wouldn’t kill a Vague. The only way to kill them was give them life. All vague hunted life down and extinguished it. So coat the foul things in life and they destroyed themselves in a burst of self-destructive power.
         He focused on his weapon and imagined the creature gaining more substance. He willed color into the creature giving it more depth. The Soldier squealed in agony as Anima forced the Vague’s bane upon it. The aura of corruption ripped at the newly formed body of the Soldier. Its body shriveled gouging holes in itself. Then it exploded in a flash of light.
         A wave of pure jubilation swept through him. For every Vague he banished he always got the feeling that one more soul they had taken was at peace. For a while his conscious mind transcended him. He stalked through the halls and rooms slaying any Vague that dared cross his path. By the time his mind wandered back to him a dozen more victims had been given peace. A little voice reminded him Find the boy and report to the last surviving Higher Authorities. He cursed himself prowling the halls probing with small sense castings to see if he could sense where the survivors went.
         It didn’t take him long. Eventually he found his way back to the front Gate. His sense picked up on a very faint life signature. He followed it like a hound on the scent: which led him to the Auditorium. He lifted his hand feeling a ward of some kind on the door. He raised his voice, “Hello there, my name is Van sent by the Artisans for support against the recent attack on the Studio.” He felt the ward waver then the door opened to reveal Maestro Hoven. The man looked haggard his eyes bloodshot, his hair was matted to his head by equals levels of blood and ichor. His body thrummed with pent up Anima waiting to be given form.
         “Animator,” he inclined his head, “we graciously accept your support.” He gestured to the room beyond moving to side. Van moved into the room. The Auditorium was a gargantuan room. A few thousand seats stood in a semi-circle around a center stage slightly raised. Disciples, Guards, and Maestros alike huddled near or on the center stage. Van strolled into the room confidence oozing from every inch of his body. He noted how Disciples openly gaped at the ichor splashed all over his robes and spear. Maestros and Guards nodded or gestured at him. He nodded back to them all.
         He stepped up to the stage raising his voice, “Ladies and Gentlemen, your Studio is under attack. The enemy has yet to be identified,” he lied, “however the Guards, Maestros and I will be mounting a counterassault soon.” He moved to step off the stage with howls of, “The Artisans sent only you!” or “Are you insane?” He ignored them all. He moved further off gesturing. The Maestros and Guards huddled around him. He counted ten Guards and only six Maestros. “I’ll need at least two hunting parties,” he said, “The enemies only move in packs of ten at the most.” He overlooked the hands that shot up from some of the more over-zealous men crowded around him. “The enemy is hard to put down, however channel Anima into them give them a bit of form and it will put them down permanently,” he scanned the crowd looking for the most solid men, “Two teams of five leaving six to defend the Disciples.” He pointed out the men he wanted then turned to Maestro Hoven, aside from Van himself Hoven was the most powerful caster present.
         “Grand Maestro, if you will,” he asked, “stay here and guard the Auditorium.” The man nodded turning back to the ward scrying through the door to the courtyard beyond. Van then split up the men into the second team. He quietly detached himself from them. Most, he knew from experience, would not be coming back. He pretended to listen to introductions shaking hands through the process. He gave the first party the extra man, they’d need it. He walked to the door, nodded to Hoven then barked behind him, “My team will clear the back of the Studio, the second team will move through the front of the Studio clear every hall and room as they go, understood?” the Auditorium filled with affirmative screams.
         Hoven, shook each mans hands and spoke a few words of encouragement. Van suppressed the urge to tap his foot. He wasn’t what most men would call patient. The Grand Maestro threw the door open Van rushed through men following close behind. He went back into his instinct mode. He could almost hear the men’s heartbeats fluttering around in their chests. He forced himself to act like a lost tourist. Taking wrong turns or getting lost in the maze of corridors. One of the men peeped up, “Sir,” Van spared a glance back, “maybe I should lead you to the back sir.” He left off the obvious ‘because you seem lost’.
         Van conceded with a nod. The man took up point guiding them effortlessly through the maze to the back Gate in less then five minutes. Van took note of three guards massacred. “What is this here,” he grunted. The same guards peeped up, “Grand Maestro organized search parties for unaccounted Disciples,” he gestured at the corpses, “this was Captain Roark’s party.” Van took a closer look and felt a sense of pride the men died in a fight but the scorch mark on the ground proved that they didn’t die in vain. Another guard added, “Captain Roark isn’t here.” Van nodded.
         The party moved on taking corridors slowly now. They were for all intents and purposes in uncharted territory. He started getting a sinking feeling in his gut. Davin and his small group hadn’t been in the Auditorium. He had done a quick look over and hadn’t seen any of the three. Which meant they were out in the open with at least six Vague roaming about.
         The group’s first fight was a nightmare. Van was third in line walking down a shadowed high vaulted ceiling. His instincts abruptly screamed at him to look up. His head snapped to the shadows in time to watch a Soldier tentacle impale his point man. The body dropped on suddenly nerveless legs. The second man in line became the creatures landing pad. Bones snapped loudly. The man let out a wailing cry as the creature leaned down darted its stinger into the man’s chest and started sucking. The man screamed until the Soldier had sucked him dry then left the empty husk where it lay.
         Van didn’t give it a chance to stand he surged forward impaling the creature. The Guards behind him took his advice to heart each sent a bolt of energy laced with their Artforms. The Soldier changed to a gold tinge from the first bolt. The second bolt forced the creature to manifest eyes. Van noted the creature looked odd to him after so many years of fighting with eyes. The forced transformation happened so suddenly that the aura of corruption stepped up its own speed. The Soldier didn’t even have time to scream it just flash-fried itself leaving a pile of ash where it stood.
         One Guard dropped to his knees by his fallen comrades. “No, no not Marcus, “he glanced at the second body, “Garrick…” The second Guard put a reassuring hand on his companion. “Come on,” he pulled gently. “Listen there is nothing we can do for them. We’ll come back for them now get off your ass and move soldier.” The man stood, shakily, nodded to his dead friends and took point. Van nodded his approval to the steady Guard. For the next twenty minutes they didn’t run into anything. Van started getting irritated. Maybe he had underestimated the Vague numbers.
Finally the party reached the Auditorium again. Van shook his head. It didn’t make sense. There should have been more Soldiers. He ordered his men back into the Auditorium. He checked with Hoven, the second party hadn’t come back yet. Van opted to go out and look for them. Hoven gave him leeway seeming to understand that Van knew this enemy. Van devoured three bowls of broth and a canteen of water before heading back out into battle.
He stalked through the halls once more. Once again he resorted to sending out pulsing of anima seeing if maybe he could sense the second group. He moved cautiously never coming fully out of his primal state. He barely noticed the blood on the ground until he slipped in it. He let out a curse pulling himself out of his battle trance. He had found the second party. Three bodies lay against the walls sucked dry. Another body lay in the center of the hall simply ripped to pieces by the Soldiers wickedly sharp talons. Another body lay on the ground completely gutted blood still pouring out due to a still pumping heart. The last man had the gutted man cradled to him. He was openly weeping. Van leaned down gleaning a grievous wound to the man’s chest. Van could clearly see bone and quelled at the sight of the mans bare lung laboring.
He left the man there. The Guard was as good as dead, he would bleed out before long. He crept now moving at cautious pace. He had noted that there were only human bodies left on the ground no Vague. He followed the trail of decrepit earth and blackened walls until he found the Vague. The Guards had died fighting and Van knew why. Four Vague Soldiers lay in a small courtyard. Each one of the things was missing something: an arm, leg, one even had a head missing. Van strapped his spear to his back and un-holstered his Guncamera. He heightened his muscles then ran and leaped twenty feet into the air right over the pack. He snapped shots, powerfully concentrated bolts of energy searing through the Vague bodies. Each snap also coating them with a layer of Anima that made anything Van photographed work with his surroundings.
The creatures each let out piercing cry of different volumes. Two flash-fried after his fourth and fifth shot while one of the other Soldiers ran for a darkened class rooms. The last couldn’t, two well placed shots had severed each leg at the knee. Van landed on the Soldiers back trusting in his own Aura of Anima to protect him from the Vague’s Aura. He flipped off the creature landed ten feet away and shot one final time. The bolt bore straight through the Soldiers back and head while capturing its pose of agony perfectly. Its body burst into flames and burned slowly. Sometimes if a Vague was weakened there bodies couldn’t produce a strong Aura which made them burn slowly instead of flash-frying.
Van turned his attention back to the class room. He grinned twirling his Guncamera. He walked slowly taking his time. Three souls had been avenged, now for a fourth. He kicked the door open rushing into the room Guncamera pointed.
He froze.
He found the rest of the Vague.
Seven Vague soldiers all aimed tentacles at him.
Damn trap!

Chapter 5