65 Ashan 718
Afternoon
A storm was coming and it had nothing to do with the clouds overhead. Max was back on her feet after nearly a full season of being set back by her grievous injuries. Without the need for her cane or crutch, she was beginning to feel like herself again, and that was a perilous notion for her to realize. Her wrath had placed her in a uniquely concentrated state. She did nothing but eat, sleep, and breathe this intense desire for revenge. By now it had consumed her, and now that she'd connected herself to a powerful entity that would spare no resource to see the Elements collapse, there was truly nothing stopping her now. Nothing. No one.
Her boots splashed through the puddles of water that filled the uneven streets of Scalvoris Town. Her hood was tugged up over her head to ward off some of the rain, and each rumble of distant thunder felt like a beating drum encouraging the Rusalka down her war path. Her tavern speeches in the beginning of Ashan had spread the story of what happened in Cylus, ensuring the citizens knew the truth straight from a survivor before the Elements could control the narrative themselves. The people knew of the masks and the true volume of traitors that had thrived within the military ranks when they sacrificed Vega. Max made sure they understood, at least in her eyes, that there could only be one thing left to do: wipe the organization and its guilty members off the face of Idalos. There could be no middle ground. Not anymore.
Maxine's purposeful steps followed the sound of cheering citizens in the near distance. A smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. It had seemed another angry gathering had manifested for some sort of public forum. Their appearances had become more and more uncommon in the city. It made her work for the Red Ravens almost too easy. Max was no leader. She couldn't inspire warriors to fall upon swords for her any more than she could persuade coins from a stranger. The Rusalka was good at anger. It was a significant part of who she was now, so when the angry mob formed and demanded blood, it was an easy thing to be the first aggressor that coaxed the rest into violent action.
She was close enough to hear a speaker's voice echoing off the buildings now. Her brow lifted and her steps became more hurried. She knew that voice almost as well as she knew her own. Maxine rushed around the bend to join the mess of bodies captivated by the man standing above the rest. The excitement and emotion he stirred within his audience was palpable. Something was happening here. Something big. She could feel the friction and the swelling of unrest, the civil folds of society ballooned to a breaking point. And he was going to be the man to do it?
Maxine shoved her way to the front of the crowd until she was looking up at him. Her gaze might've been one of confusion, but the pride and inspired awe was far more evident. She lifted her cupped hands up in hopes of amplifying her voice and shouted, "Mercedes!" Fully set in her black leather armor, cloak, and Merces Embrace sheathed on her hip, she very much looked like a woman preparing for a fight.
Afternoon
A storm was coming and it had nothing to do with the clouds overhead. Max was back on her feet after nearly a full season of being set back by her grievous injuries. Without the need for her cane or crutch, she was beginning to feel like herself again, and that was a perilous notion for her to realize. Her wrath had placed her in a uniquely concentrated state. She did nothing but eat, sleep, and breathe this intense desire for revenge. By now it had consumed her, and now that she'd connected herself to a powerful entity that would spare no resource to see the Elements collapse, there was truly nothing stopping her now. Nothing. No one.
Her boots splashed through the puddles of water that filled the uneven streets of Scalvoris Town. Her hood was tugged up over her head to ward off some of the rain, and each rumble of distant thunder felt like a beating drum encouraging the Rusalka down her war path. Her tavern speeches in the beginning of Ashan had spread the story of what happened in Cylus, ensuring the citizens knew the truth straight from a survivor before the Elements could control the narrative themselves. The people knew of the masks and the true volume of traitors that had thrived within the military ranks when they sacrificed Vega. Max made sure they understood, at least in her eyes, that there could only be one thing left to do: wipe the organization and its guilty members off the face of Idalos. There could be no middle ground. Not anymore.
Maxine's purposeful steps followed the sound of cheering citizens in the near distance. A smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. It had seemed another angry gathering had manifested for some sort of public forum. Their appearances had become more and more uncommon in the city. It made her work for the Red Ravens almost too easy. Max was no leader. She couldn't inspire warriors to fall upon swords for her any more than she could persuade coins from a stranger. The Rusalka was good at anger. It was a significant part of who she was now, so when the angry mob formed and demanded blood, it was an easy thing to be the first aggressor that coaxed the rest into violent action.
She was close enough to hear a speaker's voice echoing off the buildings now. Her brow lifted and her steps became more hurried. She knew that voice almost as well as she knew her own. Maxine rushed around the bend to join the mess of bodies captivated by the man standing above the rest. The excitement and emotion he stirred within his audience was palpable. Something was happening here. Something big. She could feel the friction and the swelling of unrest, the civil folds of society ballooned to a breaking point. And he was going to be the man to do it?
Maxine shoved her way to the front of the crowd until she was looking up at him. Her gaze might've been one of confusion, but the pride and inspired awe was far more evident. She lifted her cupped hands up in hopes of amplifying her voice and shouted, "Mercedes!" Fully set in her black leather armor, cloak, and Merces Embrace sheathed on her hip, she very much looked like a woman preparing for a fight.