The Embers Book I: The First Fires Of War

Chapter Eleven: Insolence

Chapter Eleven: A Turn For The Worst

Fifteen Minutes Before The Ambush: Cyturion Base England

Noran was roaming one of the many corridor's within the base admiring how the wallpaper peeled from its age and how the smell of damp lingered in the air, giving off the sense of depravity that once belonged to the these walls. Fallen wallpaper crunch beneath his feet as he made his way down the corridor passed by several Cyturion's along the way all avoiding his piercing gaze. They'd left it in its run down condition if they ever needed to leave; humans would become suspicious if it had been repaired as they were effectively squatting. Green bricks were visible in places along the walls as he continued to make his way down, marvelling just at the thought of the insane and the untamed in fear and agony. The place they had taken residence was called St Mary's Asylum although officially it was a hospital, but the latter was the favoured name.

It was built in 1914 but soon after was occupied by the army during WW1 but of course it went back to normal after the end of war. The Asylum situated within the village of Stannington, Northumberland Noran had moved his people in almost five years ago making it base of operation's in England. Luckily with being abandoned nobody ever came by the place aside from the odd curious photographer, once a man in his forties wondered inside to find the Cyturion's. However he didn't leave the place, not alive anyway. He smiled at the thought of it seeing as he'd caught the man, humans were so easy to break they almost weren't worth the effort, almost. Noran made his way out of the building which met anyone arriving at the front after descending several flights of stairs to do so; he began to walk through the snow which had fallen crunching softly beneath his boot.

He walked out and made his around the front building to another part of the complex behind it, he came to the door casually pushing the door open as he whistle a tune he'd picked up a hundred years back. Coming into the building and going down another hallway very much similar to the one he'd previously been in but its decay was not as severe, the smell of damp had yet to settle in as well. Entering a large room which consisted of large wooden beams curved upon its ceiling helping to hold it up, the room was painting a variety of browns from light to dark, dark filled in the centre of the ceiling supports allowing them to stand out. It had once been a performance room as to why an Asylum required such a thing was beyond Noran, a stage was the centre piece to the room its curtain damaged and only just staying in its place above the stage.

Old chandeliers dotted the ceiling attached to black chains as they swayed above, never in use as they used candles and fires as electricity was to available to them. Before the stage was Caius sparring with one of the newer recruits the recruit was young, only in his very early twenties with hardly a hair upon his chin. He had black hair tied into a ponytail and had already received a cut from Caius as a fresh burn sizzled on his cheek. Caius was wielding a pair of one handed doubled sided axes blazing with the obsidian blackness of his flame. The light from outside spilled in to add even more beauty to the scene of violence before Noran, as the recruit lunged for Caius with a barbed mace straight for his exposed flank. Caius stepped back batting the blow aside with one of his axes with the grace of a dancer, Caius stepped back in and gave the boy another cut to his other cheek.

He stumbled back clutching his face and his eye's narrowed in anger focusing on Caius, his rage was thick in the air.

"You are rash boy, take your time, assess your enemy then that is when you strike" said Caius.

 He stepped forward taking out the boys legs from beneath him. The boy hit the wooden floor hard sending an echo about the massive room, he struggled for breathe and even more so after Caius placed his boot upon his chest. One of Caius's axes found the boy's throat but only close enough that it barely burnt the soft tissue above his Adam’s apple.