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| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/SecondMovement|Second Movement]]
| + | #REDIRECT [[ADanceOfAngels]] |
| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/DanceOfAngels|A Dance of Angels]]
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| − | == Making an Entrance ==
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| − | The Organ Peaks, at the west of Whiteshield, is so known for its many peaks, which blur at the distance, like many pipes coming out of an Organ. Many musics consecrated to Sweet Melody, inscribed wih her royal name of Lowyn Innocent-Eyes and burnt in altars to her homage speaks of the musics the Organ range crashes.... but those who live and hunt off those mountains and see the truth as she is, and not the romantisized vision at the distance, speak only of the madness brought by the Howling Winds, and of the wyld hawks that the Frozen Fog brings...
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| − | Right outside of it, the Zephyr leave Selina De Windia and Seventh Moon, and for the first time a millenia, the greatest Necromancer and the greatest warrior of the First Age skies walk side by side, through its peaks and valleys, and already right out of the mountain range...
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| − | But, things are never so easy, as on the far end of it, through a long valley, as they stay on one end of it, they see where the roads ending the Organ Peaks end... and the dark-flagged garrison protecting it on the other end.
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| − | A large enough fort... A wall, a huge wall, covering all the pass on the Valley. the small river passes through it. It is made of solid rock from the mountains, worked by some magic from before into protecting the main caravan path that goes through this. It has a black flag one, and a huge gate for the road. the top of it is big enough so some men walk through it....
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| − | Above the wall, Selina sees some men.... militia, heavily armored in bland-gray colors. They are alive. Two walking dead go with each. She catches sight of some sort of priest, too, giving them some benedictions... and going back in. There are no people coming in or out of the road, it is... fairly empty. An Inn in the middle of the Valley is as empty as well.
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| − | <b>Seventh Moon:</b> "Place stinks," the Lunar observes quitely after sniffing at the air. He has been unusally silent since they stepped off the skyship, his expression serious even when he stole the occational glance at his companion. Back in room, he had been admiring her. Now, he sized her up with a bit more care whenever his eyes flicked towards her.
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| − | At the moment, though, his gaze was set towards the distant wall. He didn't bother straining his eyes trying to make out details. Instead, his nose turned upwards to catch the scent on the wind.
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| − | "Smells like... fuck," he quriked a humorless smile. "Smells like everything else in this goddamn place lately. Smells dead."
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| − | <b>Selina De Windia:</b> "Oh, it smells bad, but that's the dead for you." Standing with her weight mostly on one foot, Selina blinks then chuckles to herself with a decidedly nasty tone in her voice. "A minor garrison? Perfect."
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| − | The other foot swipes across the ground in a snuffing out motion unconciously as she puts gloved hands in the pockets of her closed greatcoat. "That's just the distraction...everyone needs."
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| − | <b>Seventh Moon:</b> He looks back at her, his brows raised curiously. "Got something in mind?"
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| − | <b>Selina De Windia:</b> Expression going back to neutral, Selina shrugs, and the nods. "I said I was gonna annihilate them, back in Windia. That's exactly what I'm going to do."
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| − | She takes a moment to tune into her innate sense of all things dead and damned, then continues. "That garrison will make a nice target for destruction. And survivors can be led to think we're going after the isolated elements of the army outside of Whiteshield. I want to draw them out."
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| − | <b>Seventh Moon:</b> "Survivors? Now ain't that an optimistic outlook..." he grins, turning his gaze back towards the garrison. His body was already growing tensed at the prospect. She was talking about something on a larger scale than he had done before, but the concept itself wasn't beyond him this time. "A'ite. So we head in, bust a few heads. Light some fires and smoke 'um out a little"
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| − | The Lunar reached behind his back for the gauntlets and began strapping them onto his hands. "We going in noisy or soft?"
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| − | <b>Selina De Windia:</b> "Well..." She looks to Moon, then purses her lips. "I can go in quietly...but either way suits me, really. No matter what we do, they can't telegraph us perfectly. This could just as much be a distraction for sneaking into the city as a challenge for the Bishop's armies to come and die."
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| − | <b>Seventh Moon:</b> He nods slowly, watching his gauntlets as he flexes his fingers. "Half and half, then? We'll hit it like a warehouse job. You can slip through the back window. Kick around a little and see what pops out."
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| − | Satisfied with the gloves, he lets out a low, soft rumble in his throat, leaning his body towards the fort like a dog straining against its lead. "And I'll go give the front door knock and let 'um know we're here."
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| − | <b>Selina De Windia:</b> "Right. I'll come in from behind." Selina says simply, undoing the front of her grey-greatcoat after she takes her hands out of the pockets. "Bet there's at least a Nemissary in there. Ghost in a zombie's body. Watch out for them." She finishes, taking her sickle sized scythe out, which then grows to full size. The little red dot eyes of Chimes of Nothing, 'look' at Moon, then move to regard the garrison.
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| − | <b>Seventh Moon:</b> The Lunar grinned wide, his weight shifting forward ever so slightly. "Heh, no worries..." There is a gleam in his eye. Not it usually glow, but something deeper, more primal etched on every inch of his face. Eager. <i>Hungry</i>, staring at the fort like it was a ripe piece of meat waiting on the butchers block. The look doesn't change at all when he turns his attention to Selina, ticking a finger towards her. "You be careful too. Don't let pride stop ya from shouting, if it looks ugly."
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| − | "A'ite," he concludes in a conversational tone. "Lets go kill some people."
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| − | The soft earth kicks up behind him as the Lunar takes his first dashing steps forward and begins to sprint towards the wall.
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| − | <b>Selina De Windia:</b> "Same for you, sugar." The Windian replies evenly, then flaps her black-feathered wings once to 'clear' them. Redirecting some of her energy for stealth magic, she begins to walk forward, steadily, the now open ends of her greatcoat flapping slightly in the breeze.
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| − | <i>And we'll poke the little nest, see what spews out.</i>
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| − | She takes to the air then, ending over to a slight ridge, Selina begins to soar just over and to the far side of it, occasionally checking to see that she doesn't get there before or after Moon, so they can hit the place at the same time. The tops of the trees streak by just below her as she moves, sometimes dipping down between them in order to break up any pattern of movement she might cause that would attract attention.
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| − | <b>Seventh Moon:</b> <i>Run, don't think. That was the way. Alpha dog out in front. Look important. Make some noise. Fucking sing if you had to. Just make sure it was you they were paying attention to.</i>
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| − | Chest heaving, feet scarcely touching the ground, Moon's world was zeroed on the wooden gate stretching up in front of him.
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| − | Not so hard here. He was alone in the valley with a bunch of plants and a wide stretch of dirt guiding him right up to it. Still, it wouldn't hurt to give them something a little more to look at.
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| − | Grass ripped from the ground under foot, leafs slapped his arms. Moon howled with the silver ring only the Howling Alley pack could mimic, bouncing the inhuman cry off the wall, the mountains, filling the length of the valley with a thousand ghost-dogs. The burning in his lungs rose up within him, spread through out him. His eyes flared like signal fires, but he upped the anti one better. Agitated energy, eager for release, poured into his smashfists, their moonsilver lining shimmer and flickering, talon and feather engravings pulsing in a dull glow.
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| − | And if <i>that</i> didn't get their attention
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| − | If there were shouts when he hit the gate, they were washed to silence behind the thunder of the snarl he let out. He didn't punch as much as hurl his body towards the wooden barrier, floating through the air as if his fist carried his body behind it. The gate buckled, rattled with enough force to send iron rivets shaking loose, groaning like a tree upended in the wind. Only when trees just fall over. The gate exploded inward, raining planks of wood and splinters across the road behind it.
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| − | Standing alone in the entry way, breath coming in heavy puffs between his teeth, eyes glowing and grinning like a madman, Seventh Moon coughed lightly and softly said. "Knock, knock"
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| − | <b>Guards:</b> They looked. But they couldn't believe. How could they? How could they?
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| − | Mer had seen the boy. A young, boy in rough clothes, running to the gate, he paid him half-attention. Told some jokes about torturing him. It had been Soph to see the glow. He tried to warn them. He tried.
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| − | By the time he was able to shout it down, the gate had already exploded, sending splinters and guards falling.
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| − | And now, within the path of caravans, the piles of hay, the little well, and the big space within the wall.... they got up, ten of them, militiamen in dark leather. Undead shamble out of the doors.
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| − | But still, they can't believe. They can't believe it's a boy there. And still, they are afraid. Afraid of the silver boy in the middle of the settling dust and falling splinters....
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| − | Shaped like a retangle on the mountain pass, the garrison's walls are as tall as any castle wall, but only as wide as peasant houses. It stretches twice as long as any city square, with the eventual provisions for passing caravans - two wheels, tons of hay, some dead crops.
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| − | Many edifices dot the edges of the pass, where they can see... it is not hard to imagine the pass full of merchants, that building over there as a burstling in, its crops there, and lots of horses and Yeddims filling the stables. The other edifices are to house the troops - like any garrison in frontiers, it only keeps a small troop, but can hold an small army in it to resist enemy siege.
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| − | Small troops that mobilize themselves against the Lunar. The priest, wearing the black robes with the shining ashen symbol and the thurible, runs away towards where the Inn should be, now a house full of arcane symbols... and out of one of the army quarters leave a battallion of shambling undead....
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| − | <b>Selina De Windia:</b> Angling up and around, Selina comes from the back of the garrison, one hand releasing its grasp on her scythe as she sees the door shatter to the front of the complex.
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| − | <i>And...</i>
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| − | Free hand clenches into a fist, starts to shake, as the walking dead move toward Moon.
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| − | <i>Now!</i>
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| − | She unclenches and makes a sweeping gesture, a burst of wind and lightning erupting from the administrative building, a second rippling across the area the priest is moving, and the last blasting through the walking dead with the force of a hurricane.
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| − | <b>Guards:</b> None of them noticed. None of them ever had any chance.
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| − | The fury of heavens rains upon them. The eldritch former inn is burnt, and its ceiling and windows explode as fire catches as readily as in summer grass. The priest's burnt body falls far, impaling himself and breaking a spear rack.... and the troop of shambling undead are exploded to pieces. Then, a few dare look upward.... and glare the dark dragoness in the anima of the Dark Angel.
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| − | And in that moment, they see that Void has finally come for them.
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| − | <b>Seventh Moon:</b> A flash of light and the flare of fire. Moon raises his arm over his eyes for a moment, but it's over before it can even begin and he can smell the smoke on the wind.
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| − | <i>Sheeyit</i>
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| − | He looks up towards the sky for a moment and waves, though he can't see the black winged woman, if she's still even there. The lady clearly knew how to have a good time.
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| − | <i>Time to go to work</i>
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| − | "Sorry, fellas" he sounded honestly sincere as he pounced upon the first of the militia men. Feet colliding into the man's chest, knocking him to the dirt. The Lunar swung is arms. Once, twice, not even punching the mans head as much as batting it playfully, but bone still crunched and blood still frothed from the soldiers open mouth.
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| − | "This ain't nothing personal," he went on, springing from the mans chest in a roll that brought him up before another. His foot snapped out and cracking into the soldiers shin and as the man stumbled for balance, Moon seized a handful of hair. The mans head jerked down as Moon's knee came up. They met somewhere in between with a grinding thump. Moon shoved the body back as he leapt for the third. "But for the sake of Creation and all, I gotta make you bleed."
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| − | "Naw, I'm just kiddin'." He fist cracked into the mouth of the third, the heavy gauntlets ripping skin and flesh and splintering his jaw from his face. There was a faint smirk on his lips. "I hate you military fucks."
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| − | <b>Selina De Windia:</b> Wings beating slowly as she descends to the ground, Selina activates her hearthstone, magnifying her beauty to the point where few would be able to attack her without hesitation. "<i><b>Come.</b></i>" She'd purr, shrugging out of her greatcoat and tossing it to the back of the garrison as she touches down, scythe gleaming balefully in the light.
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| − | And then the winds themselves would surround her, howling into existance like those which drift through the underworld. Cold and forlorn. Beckoning into the emptiness of her anima.
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| − | <b>Guards:</b> Three bodies fall to the ground, like leaves under the whirlwind that is Moon, breaking armies like in a bar brawl. Seven men ready their spears, then, and ready to strike at the furious youth, certain that whatever he did, he might still be made of flesh, might still be.... and under the knowledge that running from him would entail worse punishment by their masters!
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| − | <b>Selina De Windia:</b> The iconic dragon of the assassin's anima coils about her in a flurry of quick lightning bolts and blazes of shadow, its head at the top, above her own, roaring in fury as the Windian seems to coil for the pounce, scythe moving back. And then...she springs, moving impossibly fast in a single graceful leap, wings trailing behind her as Angeldust streaking forward and around so quickly the blade almost keens as it cuts through the sharp winds surrounding her. Out and around, the entire strike taking but one man as she lands before him, rushing through his body like the death wind and leaving a blast of air with her follow-through.
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| − | <b>Guards:</b> The mortal tries to move. Tries. As the impossibly beautiful, impossibly desirable dragon of darkness comes to him, he can think of nothing.... nothing at all. A last scream of panic before his end, as Angeldust ignores the half-raised spear, and cleaves thrugh the man.
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| − | It rains blood.
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| − | <b>Selina De Windia:</b> Moon follows Selina slowly, stalking up beside her. The spray of crimson splashed onto his face as she dispatches one of the soldiers with a casual grace. Gore drips from his fists, skin and bone clinging to the black-jade gauntlets like colorful, gruesome decorations. The silver light in his eyes gleams cold through the mist of blood in a moment before it clears, leaving the remaining soldiers facing a pristine, black-winged angel of death and a cold eyed monster painted crimson in the blood of their allies.
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| − | Moon gave the remaining men a barren, icy little smile, the tips of his fangs peeking from his lips. "This," he tells them flatly. "Is the part where you run the fuck away."
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| − | <b>Guards:</b> Blood falls. Bodies fall. The splinters of the gate. A heavy wooden gate!!!. The inn burns to their left. pieces of undead still fall. Eletricity fills the air. They look at her. So beautiful, so desirable. The Dragon coils around her. So deadly. An alabaster angel of death. And him...
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| − | <nowiki>RunrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrunRUN!</nowiki>
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| − | Stumbling, falling, screaming, they run away. And faster than one could ever expect, begin to become dots in the distance...
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| − | <b>Selina De Windia:</b> Aura blazing around her, Selina steps ahead and closes her eyes, feeling it die down. The dragon retracts into the anima, then it flickers out, until she stands there naked of her black corona. "Excellent, for a first strike." She turns back to Moon. "That will bring them running. There'll be a trail of bodies like this all the way to the city."
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| − | <b>Seventh Moon:</b> Watching them go, Seventh Moon holds back the temptation to chase after them and nip at their heels. But he still feels restless. Adrenaline pumping through his veins, his skin feels itchy, tight. He wants to punch something else, but there isn't anything left. The Lunar sighs it out as best as he can. Pulling his bandana off his head, letting dark brown hair spill loose as he wipes the blood from his face onto the tan length of cloth. "Yeah, damn well hope it does," he chuckled into the bandana, then looks up and smiles at the Windian. His eyes are as restless as the rest of him, bright and wild behind the veil of hair. "Nice job."
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| − | <b>Selina De Windia:</b> Looking about the garrison, she breathes out a "Thank you, sugar", puts away her scythe as it shrinks to a more managible size, and walks to one of the bodies, dragging it to the walls. She begins humming an odd tune, a melody from her sojorn in the underworld when the Lover brought her to the Malfeans, to be claimed. Slipping one of her long gloves off, the assassin dips her finger in one of the open wounds, and paints something on the inner facing of the wall near the gate. Or begins, anyway. Words, in jagged low-realm.
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| − | <b>Seventh Moon:</b> Pulling of his gauntlets, he wipes the gore from the knuckles with his bandana before tossing the scrap of cloth away. He'd have to find something to replace it soon. It was bad enough his cheek was still pink from the healing scar of Cael's little inscription... the mere thought of it made the scar itch and Moon paused and rubbed at his cheek irritably.
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| − | <i>Asshole's fucking lucky it's healing fast...</i>
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| − | ... but even without that, there was the faintly gleaming tattoo staring out from his brow like a half-lidded eye.
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| − | As Selina moves and begins to write in blood on the wall, he watches her curiously, but doesn't speak up to ask the obvious question. Sometimes, he had learned, you were better off not asking.
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| − | "I'm gonna go dig around," he tells her, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. "See if I can find anything worth swiping. Some new clothes for us, maybe."
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| − | <b>Selina De Windia:</b> Looking up from her 'writing', Selina blinks as Moon. "No, I'd much prefer to stay with what I have. Unless there were some decently clothed women about."
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| − | <i>No way am I going to pass myself off as a priest of the Bishop.</i>
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| − | <b>Seventh Moon:</b> "You might wanna take a look at the priest, if he has anything useful left." She says, then turns back to the wall, dipping her finger in the man's wound again.
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| − | Her comment on decently clothed woman makes him snort. "Tch, at this place? Doubt it," he shrugs a little, reaching behind his back to attach Ebb and Flow to his belt. "I'll see what I can do, though. Guess we can always just rob someone on the way, if there ain't nothing here that suits your fancy."
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| − | Leaving it at that, Moon walks past the bodies and begins to search around the outpost,
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| − | There is nothing too great in the priest, aside from burnt robes and a burnt bible. On the other buildings, mostly you have it all desert... aside from some beds, weapons, and a few papers. A fast look over those papers show that they are papers of passage through the wall, and into Whiteshield...
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| − | Oh, there are clothes of all soldiers. The Inn was where the priest had made an arcane sancturary, but the places Moon goes in is where the soldiers lived. Lots of sheets, beds, weapons, leathery cloths, and quite a bit of food... shadowlands-style, of course! ... And I do not suppose Moon is the type to like spiders. Looking around just a little more, there are lots of normal food, probably for the majority of those soldiers that were truly from Whiteshield...
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| − | It's a bit disappointing there is nothing to change into, least of all with his clothes getting stiff and reeking of blood. They might be able to find a stream or something later that he could wash off in. It would have to do until they got close enough to civilization for there to be people on the roads. Then it wouldn't take much to get some more clothes.
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| − | Seventh Moon gives the beds a long, considerate look before he heads back to where the Dark Angel was finger painting the wall, clutching the papers in his hands.
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| − | "No clothes. None worth wearing, anyway. Fuckers all dressed the same anyway," so said, he gives one of the near-by corpses a vicious kick to the ribs. "Military bastards"
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| − | "Did find these, though," he waves the papers towards her. "Rights of passage, or whatever ya call 'um. There's some other stuff I'm gonna swipe in bit"
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| − | Stooping down, he begins to search the bodies themselves as he speaks, not expecting much but being through anyway. "How long do ya think it'll take 'um to get back here with some friends?"
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| − | <b>Selina De Windia:</b> Stepping back from her work as Moon comes back, Selina nods to herself and then turns about. She'd left a decent enough message on the walls for the Bishop's agents to try and divine what her intentions were.
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| − | <i>"Hell's gate open<br>beckons the angel of night<br>to claim prey<br>on the road to the dead gods<br><br>suffer ye not a witch to live, vestal"<br><br>That ought to do it</i>.
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| − | "Wellll, you see," She begins, looking about and then shrugging. "I don't think they're going to miss us if we disguise ourselves now. Look at these wings, short of dying em, I'm not going to hide. Writs of passage are good <i>if</i> they don't give away which checkpoint they're issued at."
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| − | <b>Seventh Moon:</b> Then we find some way to dye 'um..." he shrugs, wiping his hands clean on the guards uniform before rising. "Or hide 'um. Doesn't matter which. You don't wear colors during Cleaning Season, no matter how proud you are of them."
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| − | Leaning back against the wall, Moon cross his arms behind his head and smiles a bit, a wicked little gleam in his eye. "You got a lot to be proud of hun, but between your wings and your outfit, you ain't exactly blending into the crowd. Not that I mind that much, but we gotta go skulking about in the middle of 'um and it's easier to pretend to just be a nobody than dodge in shadows. They saw the both of us ta mark us pretty good to the rest, so they ain't gonna be looking for anyone bland."
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| − | <b>Selina De Windia:</b> <i>Useless...maybe</i>. Selina thinks disgustedly as she looks over the writs, then sticks them in her belt for now. They'd know about this one.
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| − | <i>In any event, I bet they were told about me, at least.</i>
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| − | No, this wasn't going to be a clean mission. It was gonna be one of the dirty ones. The ones where she was killing every day or so.
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| − | "I don't think we'll be playing as someone else...we could try, but..." She shrugs helplessly, bending down to recover her glove and putting it back on. "I bet they're looking for me, at least. Really hard. This is going to be a dirty run, all of it. There's no clean way I can think of to get into Whiteshield...not unless these little bastards are alot sloppier then I'm guessing."
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| − | "Whiteshield's a conquered city." Selina goes on, expanding on her idea. "They'll have a good idea of who lives there and who doesn't, by now. We won't be blending in, we're too new a set of faces." The assassin snorts and shakes her head. "No, it's gonna be dirty, all of it. We'll have to live in the ruins, operate out of the places no one lives in after the attack."
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| − | <b>Seventh Moon:</b> "Yeah? You'd be surprised how little they look at your face to care, when you're a nobody..." There is an edge to his response, not confrontational, but a bitterness seeping into his words. "They're all the same, dead or alive. Don't give a damn about you if you ain't interesting enough to be entertaining..."
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| − | Then, he shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck almost bashfully. "However you wanna play it, though. You're the expert. Just the same either way, to me."
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| − | <b>Selina De Windia:</b> "I was always entertaining, so I never had that advantage. Even when I was a wee lass living in a whorehouse." Selina chuckles, then begins to walk toward her greatcoat. "But we'll see how they are. We might be able to blend in...best we sneak into the city though."
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| − | <b>Seventh Moon:</b> <i>Whorehouse?</i>
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| − | The Lunar raises his brows slowly. Her too, huh?
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| − | <i>Wonder if that means I gotta head start on become a legendary killer too...</i>
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| − | The thought makes him grin a bit as he watches from the corner of his eye while she fetches her coat. Interesting lady.
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| − | "Heh, turned out I was just interesting enough to keep their attention when I made a little noise. 'course, after the first time they had it in for me too. Then again, I ain't up to the Ladies fare like you, so I can guess it mighta been rough."
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| − | "Too bad we can't shack up here for a bit," he says innocently, yawning a stretching as he abandons the wall and moves into the center of the gate way. "A bed would be nice, for a night. Ain't had one in awhile."
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| − | <b>Selina De Windia:</b> "Not here, no." She replies, shrugging into the greatcoat and closing it over her figure, finally turning her hearthstone off and giving him a smirk. "But I imagine there'll be beds in Whiteshield. If not -- don't need a bed to sleep, anyway. You don't need a bed for plenty of things, they're just a bonus."
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| − | <b>Seventh Moon:</b> "Ain't had any of those in a while, either..." he answers, not loud enough to carry, and steals another glance at her before she closes up her coat. No one ever claimed he was subtle about some things.
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| − | Just the same, his mind swerves back on track and to the job in front of him. Looking back towards the garrison building, Moon scratches his cheek thoughtfully then nods his head towards them. "I got something to take care of quick before we go. Don't mind waiting for me a bit, do ya?"
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| − | <b>Selina De Windia:</b> Raising an eyebrow at Moon as he respond to her, Selina shrugs, wings almost seeming to mimick the motion, and then replies with a "Alright, I'll wait a bit then. But we'd better be leaving soon, if they send anything serious here."
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Seventh Moon:</b> Already walking towards them, he waves back to her. "Yeah, just be a bit..."
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| − | The Lunar vanishes into the building and for a few minutes there is a great clamor rising from within. As he steps back out with an oblong shaped bundle wrapped in bed-sheets balanced on his shoulder and a broken spear wrapped in cloth in his hand, he looks around until he spots Selina and strides over to her.
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| − | "One last thing..." he says as he tosses the lump to the ground beside her. It clanks noisily, but the Lunar pays the sound little mind as he moves over to the burning inn, thrusting the spear into the still smoldering building. Carrying his make-shirt torch back to the garrison house, he casually strolls by and tosses it within. A few moments later, smoke begin to curl out the open doorway.
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| − | Smoke smudge and looking sweaty and singed from the heat, Moon never the less greats Selina with a smile as he steps back beside her and hoists the bundle from the ground. "A'ite. Lets go."
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| − | <b>Selina De Windia:</b> "Huh...well, alright." Turning to the back of the garrison, she begins walking. "I suppose I'll find out what that's for soon enough." She says the second more quietly, as if to herself.
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| − | ----
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| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/SecondMovement|Second Movement]]
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| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/DanceOfAngels|A Dance of Angels]]
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