Yardie (prime)/High Noon

Since tending to his injuries, Vumaiel no longer smelled the copper tang of his blood in the air, which had once again been replaced by the subtle notes of vanilla beans that marked the Ta’Mori home. The room no longer spun, and even through the tightly coiled restraints around his wrist, he felt his fingers returning to normal. He shifted his gaze downward and saw that his fingers were intact. He closed his eyes, trying to draw mana, but found nothing-his connection to magic had been severed, a cruel act that siphoned the energy he and most Faendryl channel easily, like a third limb, leaving him powerless and vulnerable.

Trails of silvery light flowed from the black silk-curtained window. How long had he been here? Hours? Days? Reminiscing about the events that led to his capture stirred frustration and a gnawing sense of helplessness. A girl, perhaps fourteen or fifteen, had slipped through his fingers, shielded by that ordinary protector moving swiftly through the shadows. Vumaiel never saw the attack, only remembered the immense impact that left him sprawled and unable to move. Wrendiel had warned him not to underestimate the Skunk, but his own hubris, common among Faendryl, led him astray, and he paid the price. There was no way he would return to the fold — not without doubt, not with the stain of failure weighing heavily on his heart.

His new Faendryl captives treated him with far more grace, especially compared to the non-Faendryl guard hovering over her, demanding answers, torturing his body, and trying to make him talk. Vumaiel endured the pain, remaining silent like a steel trap in the face of her demands. But the other woman, the Faendryl Empath, regarded his imprisonment with dignity and respect. No cruelty — only respect for her kin. Perhaps that’s why Wrendiel took to her and the Ta’Mori, seeing a fellow outcast in her. Maybe he could reason with them.

When the door opened, and Mystiq Ta’Mori entered, Vumaiel nodded wearily. “If I may appeal to our kinship and the success of our people, I would like to speak with you.”

---

Red eye scanned the subordinate woman with dutiful anticipation. “Vumaiel?”

Oxaniae, the Faendryl woman, shook her head, the salt-and-pepper wisps draping her oval face in a natural veil. She adjusted her leather armor, tucking her fingers inside the collar. “He sought for the child, Medijine, but somehow ended up in the hands of the Ta’Mori. Shall I arrange for their negotiation?”

Wrendiel brushed her feigned diplomacy with a wave of his hand. “The Ta’Mori share our vision, but their affinity to the Skunk complicates the depths of our alliance.” Running a hand over the temples of his wide jaw, Wrendiel considered their position. “We’ve no time to barter for our kin, nor can we afford further complications.” A quiet nod had sealed Vumaiel’s fate. “Oxaniae, I leave it to you to silence Vumaiel. With Henshor and Enomna operating so overtly, the Basilica stands on high alert for any treachery. We can no longer afford yet another leak regarding the depths of our operations.”

The young woman bared her canines, her crimson eyes narrowing to slits. “I can move in without any notice, but I would ask for special consideration.”

“Name it.”

Deftly, her right hand reaches for one of her mithril daggers, twirling it at the hilt before sheathing it back into its home. “Arrange for a meeting with the Ta’Mori anyway. Draw their gaze away from their prize.”

Wrendiel held her gaze, measured, intense, before nodding ever so slightly. Then, a cloud of smoke appeared where Oxaniae stood, and all that remained of her presence was her chill laugh as she fled away.

---

Seated at the beach outside his home, Yardie penned the list of possible victims at the hands of the group he once reluctantly joined.

Agathliea - Missing; claimed to have been slain by the Umbral Syndicate.

Iskandr - Missing; claimed to have been slain by the Umbral Syndicate.

Draelor - Missing; claimed to have been slain by the Umbral Syndicate.

Wolfloner - Last word hinted at a return to Ubl.

Lithyia - Last word hinted at a return to Ubl.

Fehala - Rumored to have returned to the forest, having attended to their mission.

Aihan - Rumored to have returned to the forest, having attended to their mission.

Dendum - Rumored to have returned to the Wendwillows.

Lymaira - Whereabouts unknown.

There were more names, but these were the ones that immediately came to mind. Friends and family that held close to Yardie’s heart, either tangled in the web of his sins or narrowly escaping recompense for his breach of contract. Yardie had turned the page five years ago, or so he thought, building a life from nothing, turning doubt and disbelief into stumbles of success. But there were consequences, prices too high to pay and so hefty that those unsuspecting had paid the till in more ways or another. Like an onion, Wrendiel’s return and these disappearances peeled layer by layer, exposing the core of a life abandoned, its carcass tossed in the sea of anonymity, now floating as evidence of such treachery.

The sea air was the only reason why Yardie could breathe; his cheeks moistened with fresh tears. He had not wished this upon anyone, not his friends, not his family, not his mother. The chickens, however, had come to roost, and the rogue who fancied the shadows now ran out of shade as the scorching light sought to reveal all.

Enomna was not his doing, but she was the underbelly of a world that engulfed him, a world that wielded severe consequences. Now, true to the testament to his character, Yardie found himself swallowed in great difficulty. And in that horrible truth, the rogue wiped his eyes and nodded resolutely, his heart resigned to do what all great men in great difficulty had been challenged to do. He glanced above; the sun shone directly over his head. “High noon,” he whispered to the heavens. “I need to move before the sun sets.”

He jutted the quill behind his ear, rose to his feet, and prepared for the long, hard work.

((The names mentioned are people who played and no longer play, or people who currently play. I have their permission, as I have essentially asked all of these folks to use their names and characters as part of the story, in some cases, before their departure or removal. Please hit me up if you need receipts; I have them from Discord conversations and the like. I have Mystiq's permission as well, and she plays, so please, for the love of all that pure, let me just cook, or hit me up on my Discord.))