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| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/FourthMovement|Fourth Movement]]
| + | #REDIRECT [[ADanceOfAngels]] |
| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/DanceOfAngels|A Dance of Angels]]
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| − | == Call to Arms ==
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| − | '''Iron Tears: ''' The call comes from them all in their rooms.
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| − | The Snow Owl Resting is to be awake.
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| − | It is time.
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| − | The allure of the fountains is dampened in this day. And Iron Tears stands outside, talking with the Assembled Relentless Gears. Scores of men and women in the best of their weapons and armor kneel before the Faceless God, and the Pack, well-armed and trained in the longest night of their lives, seems ready to go. Behind Iron Tears, the fifteen of his Ironborn children, the automata, stand.
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| − | And above, black skies and violent winds rattle the town, remembering them of the Underworld, storms waking everyone up to a harsh, harsh day...
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| − | ...One that will decide their fate, and that of the city.
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| − | And Iron Tears waits, for the Five who can stand up to him now... the Five whom he has to trust to fight with him.
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| − | '''Exceedingly Sublime Opal:''' She was glad, at least, she got some sleep. It wouldn't do to go in the world with baggy eyes, would it now? Looking precistine at this moment as she had through every meeting she had with this group, she moved into their presence with her typical, breathtakingly beautiful grace. Her eyes drink in the presence of those assembled, giving them a faint nod of recognition as she waits for things to unfold.
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| − | '''Seventh Moon:''' Drinking slow gin stolen from Rustys pantries. Laughing over stories of mishap and adventure. Looking around at faces he knew better than his own, wondering how many he would see after tomorrow had ended.
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| − | It had been a sad, sweet way to spend the night, but Moon left the Pack behind to make their own preparations with the call from Iron Tears came. They'd talked one of Rusty's girls into cleaning his clothes overnight and Kinny had tossed him a new bandanna before he left. Moon looked out of place, beside gods and godly beauties. Brown and scarred. Rough and tumble. Gaunleted hands stuffed in his pockets as he slunk up as warily as ever and looked around at the others, a gleam in his tarnished silver eyes. A ''hunger.'' It was time to get this over with.
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| − | | |
| − | Time to go to work.
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| − | '''Kanti:''' Kanti stands behind Selina, spear held in one hand, shivering not so much from the cold wind carressing her bared skin and black scars with small daggers of ice, but from the the thought that she was going to fight him.
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| − | ''Fight the Parishioner. ''<br>
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| − | ''End his reign of pain. ''<br>
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| − | ''Or fail ... ''<br>
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| − | ''...and if I fail I go back to Her. ''<br>
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| − | ''I get to see Her again. '' <br>
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| − | ''... She'll hurt me though''<br>
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| − | ''Hurt Fiona ... ''<br>
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| − | ''Hurt mistress ... ''
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| − | ''I can't let that happen. ''
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| − | '''Fiona: ''' Holding the cloak close to herself, Fiona walks out... into the wind. Holding the cloak close to herself as the wind makes it flap, looking out from the pillars of the hall and into the storm... the storm they had to fight in. No way to delay it, for fear or weather... she looked up at her teacher. The one they needed...
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| − | '''Selina de Windia: ''' It is time. Time for the die to be cast, time for another one of their enemies to be cast back into the gulf from wence he came. The Pale Angel and Windwraith had already done for two. Standing with ''her'' 'pretties' about her (as if she would ever seriously use the term, like the Vestal did), Selina was ready to do for another. Or help however ended up finishing him off.
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| − | ''No matter, so long as we win. ''
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| − | The General was gone, but the Parishioner remained. Thought he could work the city over, did he? He would learn.
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| − | "Do not fear, Kanti. I am the eye of the storm."
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| − | '''Iron Tears:''' The faceless god turned as they came in, regarding each and every one of them with a nod... yet Selina was the one who captured his red gaze. Her... and Kanti.
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| − | "My beautiful Raven, you have come. Opal tells me the decoy is finished, yes? Do you already know what to use in your place?"
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| − | And Kanti... "You are taking her to battle? Against the man who scarred her? To die out there? I would plead you do not. She has to be protected by us."
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| − | '''Seventh Moon:''' "Yeah," Moon cut in, turning to give Selina worried frown. "Gotta be somethin' else for the kid ta do, darlin'. Have her guard somewhere or somethin'."
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| − | '''Kanti:''' ''Send me off to guard somewhere? ''<br>
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| − | ''Send me away from the person I promised to serve? ''<br>
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| − | ''Leave me here so that I do not know who has won? ''<br>
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| − | ''Leave me to wonder as you fight for me? ''
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| − | ''Leave me alone? ''
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| − | "I stay or go on your word, my lady." she says quietly, trying to keep the tremble from her voice.
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| − | '''Selina de Windia: '''"Yes." She looks back at Kanti, wondering what she's thinking at the moment. She had learned that sometimes when someone insisted on one thing often enough, it was the opposite they wanted to do. "You do, don't you?"
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| − | Turning her head back to Moon, she shrugs. "Guard what? We should be ready for what's coming, right?"
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| − | '''Seventh Moon: '''"Yeah, but..." the Lunar clenched his teeth as his emotions churned, looking at the Terrestrial.
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| − | ''We need her... ''
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| − | ''How can we... ? ''
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| − | "I dunno... the people who ain't fightin'? It just" Didn't seem right. But could they afford not to have her? Was it any better to deny her a chance for revenge, too? Moon stared at Kanti, then smiled. "What do you wanna do, darlin'? Wanna come fuck some people up with us?"
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| − | '''Exceedingly Sublime Opal: '''"She could always accompany me. I am not a warrior, and find myself vunerable should someone desire to know where Iron Tears recieved the technical expertise to repair his weapons." It was an excuse, of course. To help focus their minds and get them back on task. "If you don't mind protecting me, that is, Chosen."
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| − | '''Selina de Windia:''' She looked back, watched Kanti's reaction at that. If the girl said yes to that, she had a suspicion on what it was that Kanti wouldn't say to her.
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| − | ''That she doesn't want to see me...when I kill. ''
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| − | Or am ready to do some killing.
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| − | She felt like shaking her. But it wouldn't do to do that now.
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| − | ''You little coward, there are worse things than me in the world, will you hide from them all when they come to get you? ''
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| − | '''Kanti:''' "..I..I would ...prefer to go with you, if I may. I would not want to wonder wheather you lived or died...who would come for me...I want to help you, my lady, Moon." she says quietly addressed mostly to Moon.
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| − | "Though if you wish me to guard Opal, I will, of course, my lady."
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| − | *Seventh Moon shrugged and nodded, then turned away from her. The issue was over with, as far as he was concerned. Now, he just had to worry about keeping an eye on her when things got hot.<br><br>''... ain't lettin' you get hurt again... ''<br><br>"A'ite man," Moon flashed a toothy grin at Iron Tears. "Lets get down ta business."
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| − | '''Iron Tears:''' "As we should." His voice was businesslike. The bussiness of the Boil, hard and unrelenting as the forge.
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| − | "I will ask again, do you know who will be in your place, my raven? They are coming. And ghosts are able to sniff essence. They are thieves of life, and thieves know how to appraise goods. The goods in this case being Creation's lifeblood... essence."
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| − | "I clearly can not go on your place, as I am to deliver you...."
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| − | '''Selina de Windia:''' She looks away from Kanti with a final "That's good." and turns to Iron Tears. "Either an automation, or my Jokun. However, he might be a more useful element in the battle. Is the bearer likely to be destroyed?"
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| − | '''Iron Tears:''' "Not likely. I will meet them in the square right outside the Industrial District. There, I will handle 'you' to them... and then, I will call for a revolution before they have time to notice the fake."
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| − | "I imagine you all will come and kill their embassy. And try to expand the limits of our control past the Industrial District. It shall be over with before they can kill your servant, I would hope."
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| − | '''Fiona:''' "We are to... catch them by surprise then, right?" Fiona speaks, one of her warm amber-brown ponytails falling over her face amidst the harsh wind... "I can take everyone there. From here. In your command, I can take four of us anywhere in a blink of an eye!"
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| − | '''Selina de Windia:''' "Then he may go. Our onset should be sudden enough that they are destroyed before anything untoward happens to him." Selina demures, looking back at the Jokun, then to Iron Tears.
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| − | '''Iron Tears:''' Iron Tears looks at the Jokun and nods. "I will not let any harm comes towards you, Son of Earth. You have my word."
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| − | He says before his light flickers, astonished by Fiona's words. "You can... you can do so, can you not? Splendid... I was afraid they might feel you all before the time was right. But no... this makes things easier than I could have imagined! We shall have their embassy crushed then."
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| − | '''Seventh Moon:''' "What about that bastard leadin' 'um?" Moon demanded. "That Pari-fucker? We got any idea where he's at?"
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| − | '''Iron Tears:''' Iron Tears takes a moment, the red light flickering... "... Highlane. But I know not where.... the whole district is proof against me. It is like it was... not part of my city anymore. The whole city has been... disrupted, as well, it has been harder to focus."
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| − | '''Selina de Windia:''' "They're probably consolidating it under their rule." The Windian speaks up, looking outside for a moment, at the storm she'd created. "As you can see, the scum have no intention of honoring anything for long. They'll inch their domain forward, more and more, till they're at your doorstep, even if you traded me away."
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| − | '''Seventh Moon:''' "Shhee..." Moon breathed, glaring at the ground thoughtfully. He kinda figured the rich fucks in the Lane would have turned on them. Just the same, he didn't care if that place burned one way or another.
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| − | "Yeah, well, we ain't gonna give 'um the chance ta inch anywhere but back ta their fuckin' graves." Moon spat.
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| − | '''Iron Tears:''' "That is true, my raven. And I should have listened to you the first time."
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| − | There is a lighting then, black lighting crackling part of the mount open. And then he continues. "The first step will be destroying their embassy here, and taking control of the Industrial District! I have called upon my stepdaughter and the captain, and both are ready to act for us. It was... not very hard to sway the Captain. She still had found memories of her family, even with all her time here."
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| − | "As their embassy is killed, I shall call the city. From then on... it is all we have against all they have. The Relentless Gears, the workers and my iron children shall expand from there to all sides to help... as well as Barr's and Hemmlock's people. I believe we will need you Exalted in facing their first wave of attack... but what then? You should act organized."
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| − | '''Selina de Windia:''' "Subterfuge, will be his best bet." Selina says, looking back to the sky. She wondered if she could create a shadowland with something like that. The one in Nexus was her controlled shadowland, and many had died screaming for her to make it. Someday, she'd see about that. It would be handy.
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| − | "The General took at least part of his army. And his guard. The Parishioner's salvation lies in trickery and seperation. He cannot match us in Celestial Chosen, and the General probably had a bigger bodyguard of Terrestrials than he. He will try and kill us one by one, out of the corner of our eyes, before we can see. With assassin-nemissaries, I am thinking."
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| − | '''Seventh Moon:''' "The fucker in Highlane." Moon answered, then paused and looked around at the others. "Right? Cut the head off 'n shit."
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| − | He gave Selina a tight smile. "If he can do half'a what I seen ya do darlin', I'd rather not let him live any longer than we gotta..."
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| − | '''Selina de Windia:''' "He dies as soon as possible." She agrees, then looks to Fiona and Kanti and the rest. "If you see him, get us. We can deal with him."
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| − | '''Exceedingly Sublime Opal: ''' She has the most odd little amused smile on her face, but said nothing at this point.
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| − | '''Iron Tears:''' "Then..."
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| − | He walks out, in the rain... letting the storm hit him with the noises it makes hitting a hollow armor of Iron.
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| − | And he turns around, pure determination. "We are ready. If there is nothing more to say..."
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| − | "We shall begin."
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| − | '''Seventh Moon:''' Moving closer to Kanti and Fiona as they walk, the Lunar rests a hand briefly on their shoulders. "Just keep close, a'ite?"
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| − | To him. To each other. Just as long as they weren't alone, he'd feel safe. After a moment, he tapped a wing on Selina's wing and stroked down it to her back. "That goes for you too, darlin'..."
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| − | '''Selina de Windia:''' The wing twitches. "I will. This lot likes us alone anyway, I ain't playing into their hands. The old bastard will probably have some ambush of nemissaries or his Terrestrials waiting in the shadows for when we try to fight him one on one."
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| − | '''Iron Tears:''' The storm pours over the Faceless God as he walks towards the end of the Industrial District.
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| − | It is a solemn walk – one he knows will make history, for better or worse. Each step resonates on the world around him. Each step makes the gutter-water flooding the streets spill.
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| − | ''What a day for our freedom to be gained... ''
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| − | Beneath his outstretched arm, the Dark Angel lies, chained and defeated, her long mane and her wings soaked by the rain.
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| − | Iron Tears meets them right outside the Industrial District, on the Court of Fallow Endearments, a great square right outside of the Industrial District, dotted with Iron Trees... Each fake-tree in it a memorial built in honor of the untold numbers nameless workers who died in mining accidents, just as black lighting destroys an statue of a Sheriff of fifty years past. Lucky for them, the storm begun to quiet down. It was just rain now.
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| − | The day begun with the underworld storm. And it now became just a sad rain. Were the heavens telling them something now, showing that the darkness is past? Or were the heavens mourning for their coming defeat?
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| − | Who could know?
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| − | Right outside, they stood. Marika in front of them. The Ashen Butterfly’s auburn hair is not soaked within a cloak, her dark armor seeming to vanish under the darkness of the day. Her staves on her hand she looks at the Dark Angel, so humilliated, and smiles.
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| − | “At long last, my order shall have the slayer of our lord, the whore who dared to kill lord Void Puppeteer. You are going to suffer, wench. You are going to suffer the Parishioner’s hand until the Vestal comes to claim you. And if we have it our way, the ‘Mother Superior’ will only see your corpse when she arrives.”
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| − | At her side, two scorpion beings clad in dark robes, with four arachnoid legs and four arms each. Behind her, black cloaks, but their arms are all written like Selina has seen before. In the Visages. And Iron Tears can feel indistinct patterns in the air... demons, dematerialized around them. Four.
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| − | They all see it from within the Snow Owl resting. Now silent, all the girls having been relocated to Iron Tears’ Sanctum. Only a few of his bodyguard girls and the Smiling Lover remain... the girls, to hold the Sanctum’s Entrance. The Smiling Lover, to watch atop the highest balcony.
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| − | And as they see it in their mind’s eye thanks to a charm of Iron in their foreheads, they hear the Forge God’s voice.
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| − | ''It is time. ''
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| − | '''Selina de Windia:''' She plunges into the Trance then...and calls the winds to swirl about her form, defending her. Almost...she awakens the Dragon, slumbering in her soul, restlessly stirring now as it senses the coming conflict.
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| − | ''There will be time for you later. ''
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| − | More than enough time. Perhaps she'll awaken it for the Parishioner, so he can see what kind of monster '''truly''' sent his old companion to hell.
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| − | "The 'whore'." Selina chuckles in a low voice. "If they only knew."
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| − | '''Fiona:''' Fiona closes her eyes for a moment, letting her essence permeate her body... and letting her body be light, fluid, letting it flow as blood. Her movements as swift then, as she begins to wave her hands in the air... calling the ancient incantations in Old Realm.
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| − | "What is here now is there. By the calling of the Maiden of Journeys, we shall be where we wish to be. By the calling of the Maiden of Serenity, we shall do so in all our glory. By the calling of the Maiden of Secrets, none shall ask why. By the calling of the Maiden of Battles, we shall come ready for our enemies. And by the calling of the Maiden of Endings, it shall BE! Mists of essence, mists of my soul, take us where I mean us to be!"
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| − | And so, the mists begin.... and her anima appears.
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| − | Violet and red with but a tinge of gold, with a display of a tall older woman with a passingly resemblance to Fiona herself, of milk-white skin, generous curves and long locks of silver and golden hair – Adamant blindfold over her eyes, Emerald gag in her mouth, large Sapphire pads over her ears, her arms pulled behind her back and bound in leather restaints to the elbows as she dangles from a chain of Jade that stretches into nothingness. In all the leather on her, something is written in Old Realm...
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| − | They see it then, within her soul, the image of her mind and soul. And it is bound. Opressed. Hurt.
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| − | '''Exceedingly Sublime Opal:''' Opal had taken her leave of them, saying she had her own preperations to make. She moved with that same unearthly grace as she walked down the echoing halls of Iron Tears. She hoped she would not need to use her trump... but it was very likely she would.
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| − | '''Seventh Moon:''' Finally
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| − | ''The Hound stirred and lifted it's head. It couldn't walk anymore. It couldn't even rise. But it bared it's fangs for him bravely and lent it's hatred to his soul. ''
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| − | Murk-silver light flushed through his eyes as they locked into glare, Essence twisting his gaze, scent and senses until everything that lay beyond stood out in relief. He could see the demons, twisting nebulous pools of olive slime, smell their madness. They didn't matter. They weren't what he was after. They weren't the ones trying to rape his city.
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| − | Moon eased his hands out of his pockets as Fiona began her chant. Ebb and Flow glistened wetly even before they touched the rain, a shimmer running across them as Essence slid under his skin. When they started this time, he wasn't gonna stop. He wasn't gonna let them cut him down by inches again. They could try. They could cut him deep as they wanted
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| − | ''The Hound howled. Pain and agony as it struggled to rise. Grief at what it had lost. But even as the blood spilled out of it into the air, it forced itself upward''
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| − | Moon's anima ignited in a roar along side of Kanti's, the hound before her protectively, the Lunars own voice adding to it's cry. There was only one eye left to open, its face spilt and flesh torn off. Silver blood oozed from the gapping wound in it's chest, but it struggled out before Fiona's bound figure and snarled, daring anything to come try to claim her now.
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| − | Standing beside the others, Moon's face was a twisted mask of blind rage, looking only for a place to be unleashed. A wounded animal was only more dangerous for the pain.
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| − | * And then, the mists take them, enveloping them.... swirling in a counter-tornado... and then, they are on the street, with the purple mists flowing outward amidst golden and red light... and they are there, beneath the sad rain.<br><br>‘Selina’ is on their enemies’ clutches.. and Marika realises it. “This... is a ''fake! ''”<br><br>Before they can do anything, the Jokun slides through the earthly chains, fading within the ground... and Marika turns at Iron Tears, “Kill him!” She yells as four Jade Lions manifest, “Kill the treacherous god!”<br><Br>Things happen too fast then.<br><br>Iron Tears holding his hammer to his chest.<br><br>The Exalted materializing.<br><br>The scorpions turning towards the mists...
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| − | '''Kanti:''' Kanti steps away from Fiona as the magic fades, brilliant white irises blooming about her feet as she steps on the cold, hard earth of the industrial district of the Boil, sandlewood scent trailing off her spear as she treads carefully.
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| − | Gone is the uncertainty of before, buried below her calm, saintly aura.
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| − | She bows her head, and then sprints towards one of the scorpions, each step to the beat of an imagined drum, a trail of white Irises left on the ground behind her, the spear glowing with inner light as she spins it in her hands, striking at the scorpion, her blows sending the ghost within onto it's next life.
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| − | '''Bone Scorpion:''' The scorpion moves, and sees them... the Exalts coming out of the mist. And Kanti, coming for it. Quickly, the silverly tridents move as one, trying to grip the spear, trying to stop it on each and every one of its strikes.... moving in a arachnoid way, faster than human, ghost, or even terrestrial against all of the attacks!
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| − | '''Bone Scorpion:''' A trained warrior of the Void.
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| − | One of few.
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| − | Practicioner of an art which empowers even the Anathema who practice it to a great degree!
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| − | And yet... it can do nothing.
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| − | The spear hits... and it sees... Lethe.
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| − | And the great arachnoid body falls down, fell by quick and fast strikes from the Dragon-Blooded....
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| − | '''Seventh Moon:''' ''Nothing to kill. Nothing to kill. Nothing to kill''
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| − | Moon shut out the world to his eyes and lowered his head, fists shaking at his sides, lips moving wordlessly. The fleshy things beside him were not for food. Blood boiled through their veins, begging to be set free. Flesh smelling so strongly. Hot and luxurious. Soft. But they '''must''' not be killed. So, they had no use. Their scents were a distraction. Their sight was worse.
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| − | He was dimly away of the world changing at first. Motion without motion. Then, sensation struck him. Cold and damp, rain washing over him. New scents - man-smell foulness overriding all. City smells. But others bellow it Moon's eyes opened to gleaming silvers of light, looking almost sleepy as they peered out at the cluster of figures suddenly before him. Rot smell and death smell. Madness smell of the caged animal. Blood scent of something still living. They all meant one thing.
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| − | '''''KILL.'''''
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| − | Moon's head snapped up and eyes blossomed into uncompromising rage, a bone-grating snarl upon his lips. He watched one of the creatures who were not for killing move to the attack (such a strange way to kill) and he followed in her wake. Blood-scent first, his legs leaving the ground as he pounced towards the Terrestrial. Arms stretched to his sides, steamers of serpentine Essence poured from his hands as he crashed down upon the tainted woman and flailed at her maddly. Hot violence trickled through his veins, each swing easier, faster, until he was cocooning the woman in the Essence trails of his crushing fists.
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| − | '''''Die. Die. Die. '''''
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| − | '''Marika:''' '''''"You!" '''''
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| − | The Ashen Butterfly turns to Selina, her eyes angry as ever, screaming, losing herself.... she has her form up, of course. She has all of her up. The ornate staves on her hand moving...
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| − | '''''"Dark Angel! Anathema! WHORE!” '''''
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| − | But then, as she turns... the beast is on her. She closes her eyes as he strikes... and feels only his power, his charge. And as she opens her eyes, there are two of her, two reflections, under the rain and the flickering light of Water, she becomes more than one, and both images mov, each to its own sides, as a single person moving away from a mirror, as both wings of a butterfly fluttering, to escape the beast's relentless attack....
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| − | '''Seventh Moon: ''' The cocoon dispersed and like the Ashen Butterfly emerged with wings of crimson instead of gray.
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| − | Moon fell away from what remained of her and crouched onto the street, fingers braced to the paving stones. Icor and ebony droplets streamed from his face as the rain splashed down, the corpse of the fleshy creature falling on seconds later. Her blood-scent was on the air now, it's iron overwhelming all else. It made his stomache knot and gnaw with hunger, but there was more yet to kill and no time to eat yet...
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| − | '''Marika: ''' She takes the punch to her face. She takes the punch to her stomach. She takes it to her face once again.
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| − | | |
| − | She does not get the time to understand it. She does not get the time to think about it.
| |
| − | | |
| − | She can only watch the beast that once was Seventh Moon in disbelief.
| |
| − | | |
| − | She does not get the time to think amidst the violence - before she can understand, Moon goes through the images, through the water, and her face is punched in, crushed beneath the strength of his fists. Crushed. In such violence. Before she could even fight. Before she could even understand.
| |
| − | | |
| − | And the soaked ground begun to run red with Exalted blood...
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Selina de Windia:''' The girl and her mate went out first, before even her. He had a habit for doing that, Moon did. And leaving her to cover him. Her eyes flicker to the Jade Lions accompanying the entourage, and as Moon crushes the Terrestrial, she thinks better of it. If they all attacked her at once...as she covered the other two.
| |
| − | | |
| − | No, she would not do that. The smell of blood has awoken the Dragon once more, and this time...she surrenders. The Dark Angel says one thing to Fiona, before she lets it take her, becomes one with it.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Step away from my anima."
| |
| − | | |
| − | There is a hint of the beast in even that, but as the banner flares about her, the attentive can notice one thing about it: The iconic dragon within it is being sucked into her. Unwillingly. The more it disappears into Selina's body, leaving the raging storm of shadow, wind, and lightning essence empty of any symbol beyond elemental fury, the more she changes.
| |
| − | | |
| − | The pale blonde hair whitens till it is stark as the deepest snows of winter, her skin loses its youthful luster, she seems to age before their eyes even as her wings become more leathery, the feathers disappearing. Her nails lengthen, strengthen, becoming small talons, her grip on Dreamshard tightens as her frame is reinforced and strengthened, scale-patterns appearing on her skin in patches, faint as if the transformation is not complete. Not quite a crone, not yet, but no longer possessing her former beauty. But the beauty has been exchanged for a terrible potence.
| |
| − | | |
| − | All within a sheen of black light this happens, a deep growl issuing forth from the display. '''"Whore? Come and taste this whore, 'o frail spirits of the unrestful night."'''
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Bone Scorpion:''' Its companion falls.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Shining in Viridian light, reflecting in the rain droplets, he does not scream as his soul leaves its passions behind, and transcends...
| |
| − | The scorpion feels fear. There were few of them. Few of those that, like him, mastered the Labyrinth, got the Malfean illumination nessessary to walk lord Ten Thousand's path of scorpions. And to die... like that...
| |
| − | | |
| − | ''What kind of monster you had on your leash, Vestal? '' It asks, as it sees Moon go through Marika so violently, a rabid animal. The rain still fell, and yet, it could see all of it clearly.
| |
| − | | |
| − | As the commanding officer there now, seeing the Lions jumping on Iron Tears at the loss of its mistress, Marika, now wanting only to destroy something holy... it was then or never.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Do not focus only on the Dark Angel! The Lunar! The Dragoness! '''Destroy them!'''"
| |
| − | | |
| − | He would do his part. From afar. The tiger fork was in the end of a chain, and the unholy scorpion-nemessary begun to spin the chain in front of himself... a whirlwind of water forming in front of him as he did so. A whirlwind opening a clear path from itself to the Fire aspect... and the tiger fork goes through this calm on the storm, attaches itself to her spear... and then, it twists, trying to push it out of the Fire Aspect's hands...
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Kanti:''' Kanti sees the tigerfork swirling through the rain, the shimmer of the rain pushed aside keying her in to the attack. Even as she lifts her spear to grip it all the tighter, the battlefield is briefly wreathed in smoke, engulfing her and the closest of the jade lions, a spray of steam rising from the fire essense as the rain boils on it.
| |
| − | | |
| − | As the smoke clears, the tigerfork pulls away from the flanks of the jade lion.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Bone Scorpion:''' The Jade Lion falls to the ground, hurt, with a whimper, and Teren the Holy Scorpion grunts.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Damn you..."
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Visages:''' And then... the Ghost-Bloods... change.
| |
| − | | |
| − | It happens quickly - their faces arc foward, their bones change as if made of jelly, claws appear where their fingers should be, and gray bile begins to come from their emerald eyes as tears.
| |
| − | | |
| − | They become oily-black creatures, bone-thin, in the very image of their god's. The writing vanishes from their flesh, their lyttany vanished as they summon their god, and all they miss is the unearthly sexual organs in the Bishop's own form. They scream, and each, in turn, jumps at one of the Exalted... two on Seventh Moon, two on Kanti.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Two of the Ghost-Blooded do not transform, but hold back, making gestures in the air, making dark words appear in the rain and burn it when it touches, calling dark necromantic powers to bear.
| |
| − | | |
| − | The two who attack Kanti come as monsters, yelling, their teeth open to try and rupture her body through her screams, dark elemental energy crackling on their teeth and mouths...
| |
| − | | |
| − | The ones who strike Moon go in turn - one of them uses its elementally-enhanced claws, to strike once, twice, thrice in a bloodthirsty dance around the Lunar, the other going straight to his jaw like a hungry tiger....
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Kanti:''' Kanti allows herself a sigh of relief as the Scorpion's strike is sent wild by her magic, and then the Visages are upon her, mouths crackling unholily. As they attack though, Kanti calls on the earth below her feet, calls upon it to witness the attack, and as always the earth answers her call, filling the half human attackers with remorse. As thier blows flater, weakened further by the soothing scents surronding her, the Spear arcs in an easy parry...
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Visages:''' Compassion tries to stay the Visages' hand. But it does not.
| |
| − | The earth tries to stay their crackling teeth. But it does not.
| |
| − | A spear tries to get on their way, but stops only one. And the maws go into her neck, through her screams, and biting deep... and then, the spear is in it. And then, it shines in Viridian. And then, it leaves its tortured existance, as a voice of the bishop, tortured, tatooed, caged, castrated... and sees Lethe.
| |
| − | | |
| − | As it becomes mortal again, it looks at Kanti, and whispers a last thanks as the Wheel takes him...
| |
| − | | |
| − | And Selina... sees. Her sight sees through their shapeshifting essence patterns, sees through them... and into the spells cast by the two still human.
| |
| − | | |
| − | She knows those patterns. Aimed at Moon and Kanti, they are calling the essence of the Void to hold them into a mirror of themselves... and shatter it.
| |
| − | | |
| − | *Seventh Moon falls again, under a flurry of blows that split his body wide and nearly tear the jaw from his face. He offers them no resistance as they tear him apart, simply jerking against the force of their blows. But even laying as little more than a tattered pile of bloody meat, his eyes stay filled with rage and register... ''annoyance'' at this set back. The very moment their attacks carve into him, bone already begins to crack itself back into place and muscle twists and stretches like roots to tie itself back together. No death-smelling thing will keep him down.<br><br>Moon's half-dead body begins to twitch, already testing itself, desperately eager to get off the ground.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Teodozji:''' The hurt Lion vanishes into Essence, not wishing to be hurt anymore... trying to fend for his life, his mistress gone.
| |
| − | | |
| − | The other three, on the other hand, focus on the City Father of the Boil, black lighting crackling between them as they try to destroy the most holy thing in the Boil... and break all of its faith under Yozi power.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Fiona:''' Her friends fought the elites.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Through the street, she saw the reinforcements... different from the elites, just an honor guard of black cloaks. Many, but mortal troops. They filled a whole street.
| |
| − | | |
| − | She would fill it too.
| |
| − | | |
| − | She begun her own movements, weaving the magic that once saved the Holysword princes....
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Kanti:''' Kanti whimpers as the void essence cracks through her, lighting arcs of void earthing themselves down her spine, her spear granting lethe even as the bite hits, her own forgiviness for the pain he inflicted.
| |
| − | | |
| − | The flames dance within her skin, caged by the void scarring all around her as she concentrates, and then she moves and strikes.
| |
| − | | |
| − | As she moves she changes, the steam banks around her, the first blow struck against the ghostblood nearest to her, a flickering jump and she is next to moon, the spear swirling and hitting the two who saught to injure him greviously, the blows delivered by a haslanti crone and a haltan forester. Another leap and she is next to the pair of necromancers, another two strikes, a southern dancer and a eastern gentleman. Then she is before the scorpion, crouching low before she leaps on high, the spear stabbing at him twice.
| |
| − | | |
| − | As she lands she breaths a prayer.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Bone Scorpion:''' She goes through them. The Necromancers using their greatest weapons never get the time to.
| |
| − | | |
| − | ''Damn it... ''
| |
| − | | |
| − | ''Agent of the Whell... ''
| |
| − | | |
| − | ''Knight of Heaven.... ''
| |
| − | | |
| − | "I reject your Whell, liar! I reject it! It and all you stand for!"
| |
| − | | |
| − | "We will live forever in death, I will live forever, I will not let you take me to be taken apart, destroyed and used as another's vessel! '''I WILL NOT!'''"
| |
| − | | |
| − | ''Or if I do, you shall come with me''
| |
| − | | |
| − | And then, he moves the chain with the tiger fork... through droplets of falling rain, the chain spreading in a lotus akin to that of martial arts... opening to defend, and then closing, two petals for two strikes, to lash back at the one whose existence is a blasphemy to oblivion as she stands....
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Kanti:''' And the prayer becomes a roar of the flames around her as the scorpion strikes with his tail, the rain sizzling off her skin, off her spear as she channels more essence, the air around her dry with the heat, the smoke billowing out from her once more, cofusing, confounding the dieing scorpion.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Bone Scorpion:''' The scorpion's tail goes through her defenses... and bites into her flesh.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Another goes through smoke, and destroys one of the Teodozji.
| |
| − | | |
| − | He cuts her.
| |
| − | But there is nothing to be happy about...
| |
| − | He cuts her. Him. A king. A lord. One who went to the impossible and back... who changed his own soul with oblivion to touch a power he never should...
| |
| − | | |
| − | He thinks how they are only thriteen now. He pleads his god not to go. He tries to hold on to his existence... with claws and teeth...
| |
| − | | |
| − | But it is too late
| |
| − | The Viridian light of the Wheel has taken him already.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Selina de Windia:''' The light lessens, not steadily, but in surges -- alternately flaring up before dimming down to a lower level, black lightning crackling over the Windian's form as she stares out at the battlefield. Then, the abnormally bright light stops, and there is only the empty anima raging about Selina. The featherless, leathery black wings spread threateningly, catching the air, and a gust of frigid air comes from their spans.
| |
| − | | |
| − | The Dark Angel lunges at the remaining two Visages, cracking and buckling the street beneath her with the force of her passage, bending a street-lamp askew as she pushes off of it with her free left hand, Dreamshard alive with hissing, crackling shadow in her right. On her lips is a deep full-throated growl, heralding the arrival of the terror that only a few whisper of in Nexus -- and none beyond.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Slashing at both Visages as she comes upon them, Selina halts, throwing the street about them into ruin with the violence of her landing. Driving them back with another two slashes -- her daiklave cutting through the air with a hum -- not stopping to ascertain damage,
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Visages:''' Cut through the faerie blade.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Scattererd by dark elemental essence.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Cutting them with wind, freezing their insides, twisting them with chaos.
| |
| − | | |
| − | They would have tried to run.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Now, they have only void to go to.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Seventh Moon:''' His jaw hung to his face only by straps of skin, but sinew and tendons were crawling back into place and pulling his face back into proper order. It was an irritation at best, slowing him just enough for the fleshy-things around him to tear through the rest of the death-scented creatures.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Seventh Moon cast about, desperate for something, ''anything'' more to kill, his tattered jaw swinging as his head turned. And he saw them, smelt them. The caged ones, their insanity ripe in the air. ''They'' could be killed.
| |
| − | | |
| − | ''And'' they were cats.
| |
| − | | |
| − | From his crouched position, he sprung into the air. Arching across the sky, he lit up the plaza with the blaze of his anima, as if the moon had rent the clouds to shine on the Boil for an instant. He landed with a thunder clap between them, a ring of blood and muddy water bursting into the air. Throwing himself onto one of the Lions, his arms encircled its neck, fingers crushing holes through it's jade-like hide as he twisted it's head violently. Body bending, he shifted his weight and dragged the demon over his hip, swinging it like a hammer over the back of the other.
| |
| − | | |
| − | And then he tore into them. Silver and red. Essence burning in his hands, sizzling the rain as it struck his fists, adding the haze of mist rising from his open wounds. His arms pumped back and forth, laying blow after blow into the demon-cats, the street buckling under the onslaught.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Fiona:''' And then, she finishes her incantation.
| |
| − | | |
| − | And from the cracks on the ground, they begin to come to her. Triple spirals of sand, of the purest sand from the bed of earth, untainted by the Boil, they spiral around her... as her hands begin to glow with white-hot fire.
| |
| − | | |
| − | She dances with this fire amidst the triple spiral, and as she does, she chants. She chants the words that will join all three essences, of fire, earth and wind.
| |
| − | | |
| − | ''"Time's sand to glass and glass to life," ''<br>
| |
| − | ''"I call the turning of the wheel," ''<br>
| |
| − | ''"The closing of the page..." ''<br>
| |
| − | | |
| − | And then, her white-hot hands clap.
| |
| − | | |
| − | And as they do, a blinding light comes to all the coming soldiers, and a minitature white sun appears between her hands. The sand begins to spiral faster, and all of it rushes to the white sun.... where her hands rest, molding, changing... and then, on a swift movement, releasing!
| |
| − | | |
| − | Not sand, not heat, nothing anymore but...
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''''"Death of Obsidian Butterflies!!!!" '''''
| |
| − | | |
| − | The butterflies fill the street, one of the least narrow on the Boil, one that could take a squad of black cloaks to the industrial district..
| |
| − | | |
| − | A squad that is cut by the butterflies entirely. Covered by the Terrestrial Spell, they fall, their blood washed away with the rain... and Fiona closes her eyes, pleading forgiveness for the deaths she broughts. And then, she listens his words. And turns around, her cloak soaked, still covered in violet and red, the lady blinded in adamant turning in her infinite chain with her, to hear the God of the Boil...
| |
| − | | |
| − | | |
| − | '''Iron Tears:''' While they fought, Iron Tears did not move. He just looked... beyond it, in the light of his faceless helmet. Looked....
| |
| − | | |
| − | At his city.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Filling the city with his compassion, he opened it to his children, to his body, to his self.
| |
| − | | |
| − | He ''felt'' it. Every alley, every person, every building. He felt them.
| |
| − | | |
| − | And he made it so each and every one would feel him, touch his soul, understand his will.
| |
| − | | |
| − | And they did. They felt that.. The strange presence of the god as he became one with his domain...
| |
| − | | |
| − | ... and spoke.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '' “My children. ''
| |
| − | | |
| − | ''People of the Boil. ''
| |
| − | | |
| − | ''You know me. Some of you have met me, and known me in your heart and prayers all of your lives. Some of you have never cared and lived your lives for yourselves, not wanting anything with gods or demons. But each of you... I know each of you. And I come now... ''
| |
| − | | |
| − | ''... to plead. ''
| |
| − | | |
| − | ''To plead for your spirits. To plead for your souls. To plead for your Valor. ''
| |
| − | | |
| − | ''We all know the horror that happened to our capital. We all know the horror that happened to our countryside. We all know the horrors that walk among us. That stiffle us. We all hear the voices coming from the boy’s field as they bring more of them are born from their world to ours. Some of you have already begun worshipping your dead ancestors, those who joined their side and now terrorize your dreams. Some of you are worked with them. Some of you have suffered on their hands, see your homes, your loved ones, taken, ravaged, or even offered for the dead. ''
| |
| − | | |
| − | ''I understand you. ''
| |
| − | | |
| − | ''They cheated death, is that not? They remained, and now return, stronger than they have ever been in life, with terrifying prowess, able to do things only gods should be able to. Existing as gods, violating your dreams, besting the best among you. I understand that is how you see it. I understand that is the fear each of you have seeing them crush our souls a little more every passing day. You see the void in their eyes, you hear the void in their words, and you fear. You fear they are greater than you. You hear of their paradise, of living forever as gods, and you know they are. ''
| |
| − | | |
| − | ''But you are wrong. ''
| |
| − | | |
| − | ''Upon death, your soul may go its righteous path, and touch Heaven. There, you are given another chance in the wheel of life, judged, to come back... to live another life, better or worse depending on how you lived. One climbs it as a stairway, on your own deeds, to reach the power of Exaltation, to live as a Dragon... and beyond. Heaven Judges you. Heaven knows this. ''
| |
| − | | |
| − | ''Heaven knows who you are. ''<br>
| |
| − | ''I know who you are.” ''
| |
| − | | |
| − | As he says this, he whisper, in their minds, the true name of every person in the Boil. For he knows. His children, the cogs in his well-oiled machine. He knows them.
| |
| − | | |
| − | And, in Selina’s mind, she hears...<br>
| |
| − | Selina.<br>
| |
| − | Miriana<br>
| |
| − | de Windia<br>
| |
| − | | |
| − | '' “Those you fear are those who decided to quit the game. Those whose crimes left them too afraid to face heavenly judgement. They are those that were too weak to finish their bussiness in life, and were then sent to a dark land where the final end is all too close. ''
| |
| − | | |
| − | ''They are cowards. ''<br>
| |
| − | ''They are weak. ''<br>
| |
| − | ''They are pitiful. ''<br>
| |
| − | | |
| − | ''Do not be afraid. They crush us with their idea of Oblivion. With the harshness of the Underworld. ''
| |
| − | | |
| − | ''They think they know what it is to live a harsh life. ''
| |
| − | | |
| − | ''Raise your heads, my children. Look at them. Know they do not! ''
| |
| − | | |
| − | ''They think they know pain. They think they know suffering. They know '''Nothing! ''' We have lived day after day here... a dumping ground to Whiteshield, slaved out of our wealth, spit on by its nobility, exploited so ruthlessly. Preyed on by the Underworld from the Boy’s Field, preyed on by the Raksha behind the mount, preyed on by snow and Frozen Fog. Preyed on by ourselves, hardened and sharpened by the North. ''
| |
| − | | |
| − | ''They know nothing. They know nothing of the suffering, they know nothing of pain, they know nothing of the north! They know nothing of the '''Boil! '''''
| |
| − | | |
| − | ''Raise! ''
| |
| − | | |
| − | ''Raise, my children! And show them! Show them that being crushed by the north, that being pissed on by Whiteshield, did not diminish our pride! That it did not dull our edge! No, it '''sharpened''' it! ''
| |
| − | | |
| − | ''Raise, and show them! Show them true harshness! Show those coward, pitiful creatures that the suffering of the Underworld pales before the North! That those of the Boil recognize no snow, darkness or oblivion as their master! Show them your pride, show them your scars and '''raise'''! ''
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Kanti:''' As the last words of Iron Tears fade from her mind, Kanti stands in the middle of the road, a little away from the others, the air sizzling a foot above her head in the fires of her Anima.
| |
| − | | |
| − | She closes her eyes, and as she does, the fires grow greater, a bird of fire and ruby spiralling out of her, ebon chains pinning it to the ground as it tries to spread it's wings in defiance.
| |
| − | | |
| − | It lets out a pained cry, and the wounds on Kanti's flesh close, the blood evaporating.
| |
| − | | |
| − | The phoenix rests once more.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Selina de Windia:''' The thing that Selina had become stands in the road...and the gem glitters at its throat as it turns to regard the others, respirating with the heavy snorts of a beast in the aftermath of the transformation. With each audible exhalation, hot breath steams out into the air.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Her beauty returns, augmented by that gem, but it is not the same. More like the Pale Angel now, though with a savagry and beastial aspect that the albino does not visibly possess. Her sword remains drawn (though held down), her anima banner continues to rage, the sharp nails protruding from her gloves as if they were made with the transformation in mind, clenched into a fist on her free hand.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "There is a demon here, a huntress of the North." Her sultry voice has an undertone this time, rumbling till it seems to make the air vibrate and the ground tremble. "There are none among her foes who hear her voice and do not give way. Those who withstand me shall bear the sin."
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Seventh Moon:''' He struck until their hides cracked open and spilled out something that resembled blood. One vanished into the mist around him, but he continued to strike the first, until it's body began to disintegrate between his fists and the paving stones. He continued to strike until there was scarcely any of the lion left and stones were crushing to powder bellow his fists. He continued... until he heard the voice.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Voices had meant nothing until that moment. Meaningless monkey chatter that had nothing to do with killing or eating. But this was... different. More than sound, it's buzzing slipped through his ears and reached deeper into him. The violence tried to shrug it off, the hound to turn it's back, but even their rejection couldn't stop the effect it had on the man.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Moon's fists began to slow as Iron Tears went on, then stopped completely. Breathing hard, he stared at the city-god with growing comprehension, the man rising to claim it's place above the hound and the beast again. For the one knew little but hungry and the other nothing but violence, but the forge-god was speaking to, ''touching'' something beyond either of them.
| |
| − | | |
| − | He spoke of the hardships. He spoke of the strength of life. He spoke of struggle and pain. He spoke of death and violence. In all things and in all ways, he spoke of the Boil. ''Moon's'' Boil.
| |
| − | | |
| − | The city ''Man-smell, horrid, rot, dark, man-smelldangerbad'''''home''' the city they were here to free.
| |
| − | | |
| − | The red rage fell, shattered and wailing as he pushed it back inside of him. Moon rose, gore dripping from his fists and eyes still ablaze. He threw back his head and howled into the storm, a baying, righteous cry. The call of the hunter. A warning to all that tread where it should not. At first, only the rumble of the storm answered him, but as Moon drew breath and cried out again, the voices came. Dim and distant at first, straining to rise above walls of the Red-Lantern district. Then closer, ringing from the stones of the great foundries. Then out of the wretched wastelands of the Ash. Echoing off hillsides and through the narrow city streets. A hundred voices to sing the same song. A hundred punks clustered damp and dirty, all standing with their face to the sky and letting out their defiance.
| |
| − | | |
| − | And as he stilled his own part in the chours and listened to the gangs of the Boil howl as one, Moon grinned. The dead-fuckers better hope their underworld was gonna show mercy on them cause be damned if ''they'' would.
| |
| − | | |
| − | | |
| − | ----
| |
| − | | |
| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/FourthMovement|Fourth Movement]]
| |
| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/DanceOfAngels|A Dance of Angels]]
| |
