Song of the Piper

::36:: Machinations in the Heavens (Part 2)

Music is You're...Immortal? composed by Marcin Przybylowicz and Percival. Play it!

Media: A wight ;)

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We were in the wastelands. The moon glowed full and bright in the sky, and we were in the middle of a camp. Warders had already drawn the necessary sigils and signs in a full circle around the tents, magic pulsing in a protective barrier. Everyone was gathered around a roaring campfire, tucking into their meal for the evening.

Our Pied Piper was dressed like one of the guards, laughing and drinking and telling bawdy jokes, along with the rest of them. One thing was for sure, he was an excellent actor. Then again, I expected no less from him.

The only person who was clothed differently was a young man with blond hair and crystalline eyes. My blood chilled. He looked exactly like the Pied Piper ruling as Lord Himmel.

The young man smiled with the rest of the men, but didn't quite join in the revelry, as though he meant to set himself apart. The Pied Piper noticed this and waved at him from across the campfire. "Milord, relax! The wards will hold, I assure you. We aren't in any danger of being attacked."

"I'm not a lord, Hans," the young man replied dryly. "And it's all right. Please do carry on with whatever it is you all were doing."

The guards stared. "Well, if you're sure you're all right..." said the Pied Piper.

"Yes, I'm sure."

Silence fell over the group.

The young man heaved a sigh. "Fine. Who wants to hear a story about how a man got his head stuffed into a boar's bottom by a maiden?"

"That's the spirit, milord!"

"For the last time, Hans, I am not a lord!" But even as the words spilled from his mouth, his crystalline eyes were laughing. Sparks from the fire danced within them, illuminating them with a beautiful glow. I had a feeling that he and the Pied Piper were particularly close friends.

The rest of the guards lost some of the tension from their shoulders, and began to laugh. "Hear, hear!" one of them cried. "Let's hear the tale of the man had his head stuffed into a boar's bottom by a maiden!"

The young man leaned forward eagerly, a mischievous expression on his face. "Well now, it begins like this—"

An unearthly shriek pierced the air.

Everyone leaped to their feet. Then I saw it—or them: black, writhing figures, like shadows coming alive, surrounding the barrier. The wards started to spark when the figures tried to throw themselves into the campfire, and it held. Sighs of relief were emitted.

Until the black figures slipped through the barriers.

The sighs of relief immediately transformed into barks of disbelief. "Wights!" screamed a guard. The numerous scars on his face marked him as the leader. "Everyone, to positions!"

But despite the fact that their leader was trying to rally them, the guards were scattered, scrambling all over the area. The wights sensed their fear, and in turn they shrieked in delight. They began to swoop down on the guards one by one, swallowing them up in shadows.

The Pied Piper was standing with the young man, completely calm amidst the calamity. They stood back-to-back, fending off the wights with everything they had. "Markus, I'm going to cast an illusion about us," said the Pied Piper, forgetting all titles. He blasted light at the shadows with his hand, making the creatures writhe and howl in defiance. "Defend me!"