Incline 45: Champion of War, Vapooliar
"Par'tryont, heel!" I snap, getting the lion's attention. The Beast of National Pride drops onto its rear, eagerly licking at its sabre teeth for my order. I approach the animal, ruffling a hand through its mane as I take in more and more information. Everything. Everything there is about war.
I know it all, not by actively thinking, I just do. It comes so naturally and I have no idea how to explain it. I know what I need to do to salvage the Valkinvar and even somehow know the timeframe I have. I've not got long, but just enough is there for me to take it in. To take in such a strange reality.
I'm a Valkinvar, but now I am not. I am something more, something greater and something other than. Waionr named me his champion. I am the Champion of Waionr, War's Advocate. A warlord...?
"Bah." I go, shaking my head and leaving the lion's head on a tilt.
He rumbles, his meaty throat throbbing with power.
"R-Right..." I go, taking the annoyed hint his glaring eyes offer, "Go, ride out and head to the dungeons. Save the Exalsonarden-Valkinvar, rally the five of them, plus whatever unlawful prisoners are there. Save them all. Much as it pains me to admit it... The wounded are already lost. The Staguiffmani kept them unhealed precisely for this moment. I will handle the Zaphadren-Valkinvar. But... Be prepared to make your presence known to us. I will need your roar to prove my word to them all." I explain to the lion, and he roars in understanding.
The battle-cat rushes off, his size warping to greater heights in the candlelight. His shadow grows, ornate bronze armour covering his bristling muscles with each rush. He throws himself out of the tunnel, carving ten lines into the redstone. Indestructible redstone and it has been scarred.
Par'tryont roars for me, catching my attention as somehow howls in confusion. I twist his way, knocking my head the way he is meant to go and I run. I run with more power than I ever thought possible. I land on the far wall, unable to stay grounded.
It cracks and fractures.
The traitor Staguiffmani ahead flinches, her skin turning as pale as her robes. She and the rest of her small group ready spells, firing off at me. I leap from the wall, shattering it with power I never thought possible, and I weave my way through the impossible maze. Running out with a spin, I send out an armoured backhand at one of them.
She flies off, a trail of blood leaving her shattered jaw. She crashes through the treasure vault displays. I back-step, avoiding a glaive of emerald power, and I jab my leg down, shattering the staff. They flinch back again and I rush them, going through them so easily.
Blood trails after me and my fist brings it to a halt as it breaks on through her armoured plate. The last traitor flies off, splattering on a redstone pillar. My posture breaks apart, a gawk of shock keeping my mouth wide open. Where is all this power coming from!?
Is it the artefact? It has to be, but this all feels so natural. It doesn't feel like I would lose it if I lost the artefact. Ah, I see, I understand. This is my power, my natural power.
The Crown of Conceptual War has taught my body to use my power to its fullest extent.
This is what I am capable of, to make such quick work of so many veteran Valkinvar-
"THE CHAMBER!" I blurt, the artefact shocking a sharp pain through my mind. A warning of the deadline. I turn towards the Chamber of War and rush for it, arriving in no time at all. Only to find it a bloodbath... So many Valkinvar dead.
So many still fighting.
One Brother Ammimpaurst smashes aside a traitor Staguiffmani, sending her right into the True Emerald tornado at the centre of the room. The Points of the Compass are inside, safe and ignorant of the world. Now I see. The ritual was to normalise sealing off everyone from the betrayal outside!
The Brother Ammimpaurst loses himself in his fury and he rushes me, my ceremonial garb too similar to a traitor Staguiffmani. I step aside, watching his hammer thud helplessly on the redstone. His teeth come up, bearing full and white as a hidden spell builds up beside him. I move ahead, moving faster than he can comprehend, and I set him aside, letting the spell fly about.
He blinks from his spot, and I nod, heading off to intercept a pair of traitors. I fight my way through them, killing who I can when I can. The faces, familiar and not race by me. Ordoar Ammimpaurst, Ordoar Wiswipide, Ordoar Imdvarce. Friendlies of the three loyal creeds and the wounded among them.
The moments come to an end and I've separated the battle in a way that seems impossible. A baker cannot take the eggs from a cake, but I've brought order to a disorderly battlefield. I've brought quiet where civil war rages all across the temple. Even but a level down, where the honour guards still duel the traitor ones.
"PULL BACK AND SEAL THE CHAMBER! I WILL HANDLE THEM!" I roar with such authority that all of them flinch. The loyal Ordoars pull out, taking who they can without question for the time being. I might be committing a crime, wearing the Crown of Conceptual War. One punishable by death, but it matters not for the moment.
I brought a stop to the terror of this sudden betrayal. I'm now that terror... And I must fight. Fight until they're all gone or down in submission.
Spells come for me and the loyalists, so many of them. I hold my hands out, suddenly filled with expertise I should not have. Spells of my own come out, so powerful as to even disrupt the True Emerald vortex itself. It wavers and warps, staggering the attention of the traitors.
I rush down, going into the lower chamber and I arrive to slugger down a traitor. My fist strikes her head, spinning her around and slamming her into the dust. It turns red and and I rush for the next one, spinning around her spell and pulling her into the motion. I hoist her right into the vortex, letting another mangled mess join in.
"SEAL YOUR DOORS!" I demand of the honour guards and they spit at me, drawing their weapons on the traitors instead. They climb for them, making quick work of them. Though their titles elude me, such a strange thing for the positions they have. One thing is clear, to be the honour guard of a Point of the Compass is to be approaching them as an equal.
They slaughter their way through the traitors and the other loyalists rush in. I dive back into the thick of it, saving lives where I can and taking them where I can. The traitor numbers thin and thin, their screams filling the chamber to no avail. The tornado keeps twisting, growing in intensity as if the traitor Zaphadren-Valkinvar is aware of her defeat.
"EXPLAIN YOURSELF!" an honour guard demands, her hooked blade landing right next to my neck. I stay perfectly still, somehow aware that no matter how hard she tries, she will not be able to cut me. Familiarity defies the artefact, however, and a trembling hand rises to set aside the blade.
"My name is Vapooliar. I'm... Was a Valkinvar-Imdvarce. I'm sorry, I cannot explain anything right now. The Zaphadren-Valkinvar. The entire Ordoar Staguiffmani, they're traitors. All of them!" I point out, gesturing around so that their senses can take it in.
No Valkinvar-Staguiffmani stand with us. Only so many dead traitors. The blood of our allies joining them. They take it all in, some even weeping as the pressure breaks the harsh shell made up of centuries of veterancy.
One Brother Ammimpaurst holds a fellow, dead Valkinvar-Ammimpaurst close. He takes his hammer, breaking the handles of both so he can reliably dual wield them. He rises, a snarl and a red-flushed face overpowering much of the emerald shine in his hair and beard. He approaches, weapons at his side.
"What would you have us do?" he asks, clearly aware enough of what my accomplishments mean.
"I need you all to gather. Offer your power *against* the vortex in the centre. I need to break through to the Points of the Compass. They're still alive. The plan was to have you all killed and they would pile on them in the confusion. All this stupidity in the Chamber of War, the Zaphadren-Valkinvar planned it all. She's been working for the heretic prince, Jhrartur, this entire time! The Ordoar Staguiffmani rescue missions? They were assassinations! Chipping away at our numbers out of sight!" I let out, blowing through the information given to me by the artefact.
Some buy into it easily, their faces all but certain about it. Others struggle to understand, the idea that all of the Staguiffmani being traitors is an absurd one. It is, admittedly. It very much is... But, that's really all it is.
Even Sister Dannatili is in it. Apparently, she was even the one responsible for what happened at the Long Battery Fort. Why it was sabotaged and why the orders were so strange. She helped it all, and I just happened to be in the area to save her from being part of an impossibly complex scheme to hide the truth...
There are no traitors in the Valkinvar, see? Even we lose our sisters, too. It's all a lie. Even the prior brawl was them testing themselves in preparation for this cycle.
"This is all nonsense..." one sister goes and I look towards her, marching up with stern eyes as my loose memories slip away.
"Look around you. The Valkinvar are being betrayed. There is no Ordoar Staguiffmani, there's only the Traitor Staguiffmani." I explain, nudging her along to the best position for her to cast her magic. I urge the rest along and they begrudgingly listen.
"How are we to stop them...?" one honour guard dares to ask, a Dragon Coast haired woman of the Ordoar Wiswipide.
"I will handle the Zaphadren-Valkinvar. I've already sent help to make sure the Exalsonarden-Valkinvar are alive and well. Not caught in some trap by the Staguiffmani temple guards. Don't hope for the wounded, they were butchered at the start of this. Easy pickings. Save those you can. Hurry." I say, letting them all get to it.
I don't need to command them in the slightest here. All Valkinvar know how to share and combine their magic. It's part of their training. All they need is me to guide it.
I jog back, digging my heels into the redstone brick and cracking it open. I lean down, putting my fingers against the once-invincible stone and letting it break more. The spells join together as one, almost matching the True Emerald power of but three Valkinvar and the arch-traitor. The ground shatters and I run, rearing my fist back.
I catch the magic in my own and throw it forwards, breaking a hole into the vortex. I fly and roll on in, catching them all off guard and leaving them all baffled. They turn towards me, nothing but anger twitching across the arch-traitor's features. Sister Pymonsia struggles to understand what is happening, but she seems almost thankful to see me.
"Explain yourself, Valkinvar-Imdvarce Vapooliar!" Noustoster-Valkinvar Aimaboryim demands to know, her weapon out already. She and the Bordeaon-Valkinvar are the same in this regards. One with a sword drawn, the other a city-sieging war-hammer in both hands. Sister Pymonsia, however, draws her lengthy blade on the others. Not me.
She shuffles her way towards me, all but the arch-traitor ready to fight.
"You best have a good explanation, Vapooliar..." Sister Pymonsia whispers, the formalities spared for the moment.
"I do, in fact. And I will explain..." I say, pointing my dominant hand's pointer finger right at the centre of all of our problems. The traitor herself. The woman I was in that vision, the one who surrendered our home to a man who slaughtered her friends and mentors.
"Get rid of this heretic," the Zaphadren-Valkinvar hisses, her grip flexing as she tries to cling to my greatest sin of the current moment. No Valkinvar is to touch or wear the sacred gear of Lord Waionr. No one.
If only they knew why I have the helmet... What rides out with me.
"ZAPHADREN-VALKINVAR GEMORLI, I SENTENCE YOU TO DEATH FOR THE CRIMES OF BETRAYAL, HINDERING THE WAR, SACRIFICING YOUR COUNTRY AND FOR THE HERETICAL CRIME OF TURNING ON OUR HUSBAND-TO-BE!" I roar with strength like never before. I know that Waionr takes us on in death. It is true, it is real. It is fact.
The Valkinvar are right, the heretics are what they are.
She cackles away, her act of disbelief not one for even the most trusting of individuals. However, the other two Points of the Compass still cannot see it. They don't understand. It looks like we're the traitors when they're turning on us like this.
But... The arch-traitor herself is aware of her circumstances. And, as her spells build up to join the array of weapons against us. I see them turn, tilt towards the backs of those backing her up so carefully.
"GET HER!" she lies with all she has, throwing her spells out and the other two obey. Sister Pymonsia prepares to parry, but I knock her aside and rush the other two. I duck and weave, disarming both of them with impossible speed and skill and the spells meant for them go over.
They snap around, knowing full well what those angles were, "Now you see."
"More's the pity..." the arch-traitor growls, her four masteries coming up bright and true as the vortex dies. Revealing the true butchery to the three loyal Points of the Compass.
"Now you see." I tell them, leaping for the traitor. My reared back fist springs ahead, smashing against her spell-shield and she goes through the redstone. I land on the hole, leaping after her as wind, fire, lightning and water all charge up to meet me.