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| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/ThirdMovement|Third Movement]]
| + | #REDIRECT [[ADanceOfAngels]] |
| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/DanceOfAngels|A Dance of Angels]]
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| − | == The Last Step ==
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| − | <b>Valencia Silverstar:</b> It's much the same as the previous trip to Windia, for Cael and Alex. Except that this time, the park where Valencia fought off the strike force intended to raid the castle seems to have gotten a bit cleaned up, at least from the scene they behold in the air. Soon enough, the Zephyr is docked, and they are informed of the pending meeting in Valencia's manse.
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| − | The snow has stopped falling for the moment by the time they reach the Lunar's mansion, though Windia lies beneath a light blanket of white, like much of the countryside. A different person meets them at the door this time, not a Terrestrial, but he escorts them to the same room as before.
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| − | The Pale and Silver Angels are waiting for them. Valencia, already seated, nods to her guests. "Please, be seated, honored allies and guests." Her voice is delicate, crystalline. "We have much to discuss."
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| − | <b>Alexander: </b> There is something different on him.
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| − | Something... new.
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| − | It is the way he smiles? The way he walks? The way he carries himself?
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| − | His smile to the Pale Angel is more than purity, devoid of the bleaknessfrom before. It is also full of... confidence. Almost... overconfidence.
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| − | "Sorry about the delay my most steemed ladies! We had to take care of a little thing or two! And Pale Angel... a cute little prince whom you saved the life of wants to meet you. He is awake now."
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| − | He taks his seat, and his joy makes itself felt in every regal movement, his beauty never so.... bright, as it is now, seeming to fill the room with warm sunlight even there is no discernible glow in him... just from his smile, just from his eyes. "Indeed we do, lady Silverstar. I imagine you and the Pale Angel amassed the forces we needed? And that she is well-acquainted with them by now?"
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| − | <b>Vorpal: </b> "Hoi", comes a vague greetings from Vorpal.
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| − | There is very little immediately visible of the Pale Angel to greet the arrivals. Occupying another seat in the room is a pair of long legs encased in a pair of black boots, extending up from the chair to rest on the corner of a table. Voluminous black velvet cloak spills over the edges of the seat to brush at the floor. The rest of the Abyssal general is obstructed by an immense map she is currently holding aloft. There is a slight clenching of white fingers around the edges of the aging parchment at the sound of the prince's voice, but beyond that, she does not react.
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| − | <b>Cael: </b> Cael walks in slowly behind Alex, not shining nearly so much as the young Prince, though not upset by any means.
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| − | He nods in greeting to the Lunar and to the Pale Angel, and then spreads his arms towards the two new people with him.
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| − | "Pale Angel, Valencia La Silverstar, may I introduce you to Ryshassa and Alexsei Krauser, who have decided to aid us in the coming war." he says clearly, before taking his own seat next to the Prince.
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| − | <b>Ryshassa: </b> Ryshassa regards the Angels in silence, this having been the first time she has seen them in person -- matching appearances to faces, speculations to reality. She sits, as directed, arranging about herself the folds of a kimono of twilight shades, burnt orange at the shoulders fading to dusky violet at the hems and the generous dip of the garment's pendulous sleeves, upon which artfully clustered morning glories are intricately embroidered. For the occasion, her hair is bound in two braids bound high up in buns on either side of her head, the tips of the braids trailing down to shoulder length and bound tightly with dusky violet tasseled cords.
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| − | As Prince Alexander addresses the Pale Angel with obvious familiarity, a small smile curves up the corners of her mouth -- she is pleased, for once, to have been able to bring the Prince some measure of joy and hope in his dreary existence. The healer bows her head briefly, the tips of her braids slithering with a whisper across her silk-clad shoulders, but continues to observe without a word, keeping her pale, slender hands folded formally in her lap.
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| − | <b>Alexsei: </b> Following the lead of the young Prince and Cael, Alexsei strides along the halls of the elegant mansion. Though his personal and professional endeavours have made him read about the place many times, it is the first time the Chosen of Saturn actually sees Windia for himself. And with the current turn of events... he doubted tihs would actually be the last.
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| − | Placing his hand on Ryshassa's shoulder for a short moment, Alexsei smiles at his wife before turning his gaze to their hosts - the lady Valencia, already seated in expectation of their arrival, and the Pale Angel, reclined and barely visible behind a voluminous map. At Valencia's greeting, he executes a courteous bow, then takes up a seat besides Ryshassa, placing his hands in his thighs.
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| − | He smiles and nods slowly at Cael's introduction of them, bowing his head before the Angels. "A pleasure meeting you, my ladies. I hope I can be of help to your crusade in the coming days, and be allowed to repay the courtesy you have shown us here."
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| − | <b>Valencia Silverstar: </b> She is not attired as she was before, though the initial impression is not much different from what Cael, Vorpal, and Alex had when they first saw her. The first impression the newcomers receive is that of...the Dark Angel. Too many similarities, in face and body. Or maybe in this case, the Dark Angel is a copy of her, deliberately so, although the paleness is more natural, and the skin along her left cheek is marked with graceful runes of the north in silver tattoos that flow down her neck and further, and her frame is just an inch or two shorter. The long hair is an odd mix of icy light blue and silver, her steel-gray eyes much more outwardly calm than Selina's -- a gaze which looks too easily turned to the total indifference of a killer -- and doubly piercing, as if they belonged to a bird of prey. There is no arrogance in those eyes or her carriage, no pretense.
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| − | <b>Ryshassa: </b> At Cael's introduction, Ryshassa raises her head and nods, meeting Valencia's eyes fluidly... and glancing over to the Pale Angel, who seems to be heavily preoccupied with the map covering most of her body. Her calm, considering gaze returns to the more visible Valencia as she continues to speak.
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| − | "Yes," she acquiesces to her husband's words -- "I sincerely hope we will be of significant aid to your cause. I am not, admittedly, a woman of military knowledge, but I am a healer of some talent, if the opinions are to be believed." Despite the humility in her words, though, she speaks with confidence, her measured, melodious voice carrying easily across the room.
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| − | <b>Vorpal: </b> "A healer", wafts up Vorpal's voice from behind the map, absent and occupied, and yet, level and commanding at the same time. The map teeters slightly as the Ghost-Blooded adjusts her grip of the thing. "Can you purge the poisons of the Underworld?"
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| − | <b>Alexander: </b> "She did cure Credric from whatever the ghosts did to him, Lilith... she could purge something that had a Holysword on a state of perpetual sleep! By my impressions, she can for sure!"
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| − | He takes a long look to Valencia... greater than he ever had before, his amethyst eyes fixing... running through her form. And then, he smiles. He had never taken the time to notice how both were so alike!
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| − | <b>Ryshassa: </b> Ryshassa's almond-shaped violet eyes shift towards the map behind which the Pale Angel's voice is emanating. "I would not be here if I could not perform such an act," she replies very serious, her solemn tone a contrast to Alexander's exuberance.
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| − | <b>Valencia Silverstar: </b> She is not attired as she was before, though the initial impression is not much different from what Cael, Vorpal, and Alex had when they first saw her. The first impression the newcomers receive is that of...the Dark Angel. Too many similarities, in face and body. Or maybe in this case, the Dark Angel is a copy of her, deliberately so, although the paleness is more natural, and the skin along her left cheek is marked with graceful runes of the north in silver tattoos that flow down her neck and further, and her frame is just an inch or two shorter. The unbound long hair is an odd mix of icy light blue and silver, her steel-gray eyes much more outwardly calm than Selina's -- a gaze which looks too easily turned to the total indifference of a killer -- and doubly piercing, as if they belonged to a bird of prey. There is no arrogance in those eyes or her carriage, no pretense.
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| − | Her white dress uniform is simple; no medals or cords bedeck it. The long sleeved, well tailored shirt is paired with a skirt that reaches half-way down her calves -- dark stockings hide the runes on the inside curve of her legs. Her home unit's insignia and the national pin decorate her lapels, but that is all. Not belted on this time but still present in its sheath at the side of her chair is Winter, her longsword.
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| − | The elder Lunar gives them all a cursory look (lingering on Alex for a few more seconds), gauging the newcomers, and then affects a faint smile. "Such talents are needed now, and will be even more appreciated in the next few weeks, I think. But the situation grows ever more perilous, and the need for action on our part becomes more dire each day."
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| − | <b>Alexander: </b> And she was not just like the Dark Angel... she looked so like... another...
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| − | Whom in his dreams closed on to his body, giving him sensations he had never felt in this life. Whom in his dreams could be anything he wished. Whom in his dreams would die for him. She was silver then, puissant, always the one to keep him on the right path... to keep him alive when the blades clashed..
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| − | Longing, desire.. and possessiveness lingered on his eyes for a moment. Until he shut them tightly, holding his breath.
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| − | <i>This is serious, you idiot!</i><br>
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| − | <i>Stop daydreaming! </i><br>
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| − | <i>Stop looking! </i><br>
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| − | <i>Think!</i>
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| − | "They are... gettng ready, right? Every moment we give them..."
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| − | <b>Alexsei: </b> Slowly joining his hands together in front of him, Alexsei observes the meeting around him. He refrains from commenting just yet, waiting to have a better grasp on the situation and the the actions the group is planning before pondering of his place in it.
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| − | He nods politely to the Silver angel, as if urging her to continue.
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| − | <b>Valencia Silverstar: </b> "Yes. Or rather," She crosses her legs, eyes moving to the Pale Angel before continuing. "They are regrouping. We must not allow them that luxury. The Dark Angel will keep them off-guard, but the invasion is up to us."
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| − | <b>Vorpal: </b> It is at this that the Pale Angel lowers the map.
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| − | She is beautiful, a regal figure crafted of marble and alabaster. An angel of ice and freezing snow, clad in black velvet and the dark leathers of a mercenary. She is white and cold like the Windian Chosen beside her, but unlike Valencia, who is cold like the crisp, freezing air of the North, Vorpal's is the endless chill of death, the deadly, biting edge of winter itself.
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| − | It is as if the heat of her entire being is concentrated on her eyes that are red like a pair of living coals, and it is the force of this intense gaze that she now focuses on Alex. She studies him, sees his beauty and new-found confidence... and she frowns. "Cocky, aren't you?"
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| − | <b>Alexander: </b> He listens to Valencia... and nods. "Despite the Pale Angel's compliment last time, I know better than to try a plan out of whole cloth - I do not have the military acumen and prowess of our great ladies of ice here. So, my lady Silverstar, how we shall invade my homeland?"
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| − | He lets the question hangs in the air... in a silence broken by Vorpal's gaze, which breaks the air as appropriate to her great presence, and makes him red in embarassment, "Well... should I not be? We have won so far! I have what they fear on my hands. Three great legends of the north on my side. We have undone what they did to my brother!"
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| − | <i>And I might be the reincarnation of a great hero...</i><br>
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| − | <i>Even if my dreams do not always make it seem so... glorious.</i>
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| − | "Right? We are winning!"
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| − | <b>Valencia Silverstar: </b> "So far." She replies to Alex's last statement, leaning forward from her chair, silvery wings folded behind her. "I think it is time to test their defenses, find a weak point and get them to commit more of their strength to a front line, static defense."
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| − | <b>Alexander: </b> The first answer already cools him down a litttle. He had been wanting to believe. Everything seemed so.... better, at the moment. So much... that he wanted to believe they could take them. He had said a week back that the enemies were much, much stronger than the Celebrant - and he believed it - but with new, powerful allies joining them at every turn, they had to... had to win. He wanted to believe they could.
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| − | They were on his side. They were on a mission from Heaven. They had to!
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| − | But yet, he held his breath for Vorpal's reply, still focused on her, but giving a nod to Valencia, "And how would you do this? Spies? Small teams hitting them to know the right spots?"
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| − | <b>Vorpal: </b> Suddenly, Vorpal chuckles. It is an oddly genial sound, an almost eerie ripple of warmth through the heavy encasing of ice. The frown melts away from her face, and her lips draw up into a slanted grin. "That's the Alex I know", she replies, shaking her head slightly. "For a moment, I thought I saw a stranger standing there."
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| − | A flick of her wrist sends the map to flutter onto the table.The Pale Angel shifts her position in the chair slightly, sitting up straighter, throwing one leg over the other and leaning her cheek against the knuckles of her hand. Her eyes flicker over to Cael for a moment, and she favors him with a slight nod before turning her attention to the two people who are new to her. Even as her gaze studies both Ryshassa and this.... Alexei... up and down, she adds her own thoughts to the conversation: "It's too early to say we are winning yet. Yes, we do have slain a number of their Chosen and pushed back their forces for now. However, <i>they</i> captured Whiteshield right with their initial move. But now, the gambit round is over..." she pauses... and smiles. "And the war truly begins."
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| − | <b>Valencia Silverstar: </b> "Yes." The Windian sits up a bit more, no longer leaning back into her chair, more outwardly attentive. "We have the initiative now -- it must be used. Say, a raid on one of their garrisons sitting in the middle of an ideal invasion corridor, or more than one, and they may well stiffen it with their reserves. They must be forced to commit more of their troops, so they no longer have the reserves to do more than harass us once we break their line in the main attack."
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| − | She smiles grimly at the map on the table. "They say you cannot bleed the dead, but I am going to try."
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| − | <b>Alexander: </b> He looks at Vorpal and smiles with her. She is an irreprensible presence. He already flatters himself to think he is close to her. "You are right, Pale Angel..."
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| − | "And you..." He smirks, "<i>Enjoy</i> it, do you not? War?"
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| − | The Pale Angel, Vorpal De-Fay, the one who conquered so much land for her country... who was so feared on the north. She is war, one notices when she says so...
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| − | And then, Valencia. Who was on equal footing with her, although she seemed to be less about grand war, more...
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| − | ... personal?
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| − | "I suppose we can take a large enough group on the Zephyr, right? That would be the first group, and as they reroute to where it attacked, the others come late through other sides?" The he blinks, moves a little back on the chair, and asks more humbly, "Er, how do you do a raid? Just like a barbarian, coming, in, destroying, and out?"
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| − | <b>Vorpal: </b> "If they are at all competent", Vorpal responds with a slight wave of hand, "then the garrisons on the ideal invasion corridors are the most thickly fortified already. And there is no point cutting the dead and waiting it to bleed - every moment we waste gives the enemy time to raise another corpse to join their ranks. The greatest advantage you Windians have is your mobility, yes? So what if we use that to our advantage and make several quick raids on different places, flank and evade, to keep the enemy confused about exactly where we are going?"
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| − | She pauses... suddenly aware of the speed by which she is speaking. There is a tremor of enthusiasm in her voice, a faint shadow of a blush on the verge of rising to her cheeks.
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| − | <i>Yes,</i> she thinks. <i>I enjoy it.</i>
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| − | She smiles, almost shyly.
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| − | <i>I was born for it.</i>
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| − | <b>Ryshassa:</b> Ryshassa observes this exchange in continued silence, her delicate features outwardly impassive. Alexander's summary of the situation may be accurate, but at the same time dangerously naive. She knew less of war first hand than he did, at least in this life -- but conflicts on such a scale were never such simple win or lose affairs.
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| − | Of greater interest to her is the contrast between Alexander and Vorpal -- the young Prince's naive, enthusiastic confidence, and the Pale Angel, part scathing sarcasm and frigid nonchalance and... eagerness, now, flaring in those hungry coal-ember eyes at her pronouncement of war. She steels herself to meet that gaze as it rakes over her, sizing her up as if determining whether she falls above or beneath the Pale Angel's lofty consideration.
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| − | As Valencia outlines the beginnings of an attack plan, she purses her lips for a moment, then speaks up. "I would imagine my husband would be a boon in such an endeavor--particularly against large numbers of the walking dead." Her gaze slides towards Alexsei, allowing him the opportunity to speak for himself.
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| − | <b>Cael: </b> Cael sits silently next to Alex, returning the nod to Vorpal, not contributing anything for the moment but simply watching the interplay around the table.
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| − | The calm sureity of Valencia.<br>
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| − | The youthful enthusiasm and uncertianty of Alex<br>
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| − | The barely concealed glee of Vorpal.
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| − | This council was theirs, really.
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| − | <b>Alexsei: </b> Smiling softly at the Silver Angel's comment, Alexsei stares at the map, then back at their hostess. "If the dead do not bleed, milady... One might try to make them collapse. He places his hands together in front of his mouth, staring attentively at the map. "I am not yet certain on where and how you might want to do this assault, my ladies. But if you look for ways to take down the dead, I might just have some ways to do just that..." He pauses a moment, turning his violet eyes back to the Angels. "And as for those that fall, I can ensure they will not rise again to join the ranks of the enemy."
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| − | <b>Valencia Silverstar: </b> Sidereals. She'd seen one or two, and never remembered them as anything besides Sidereals. She'd seen another, a few days ago...but she'd had better success remembering <i>him</i>. For now. She looks at Alexsei appraisingly, a commander deciding on the use of resources offered her. "You can make them collapse? Interesting. Although it is not corpses I necessarily want to bring to action. Is there a similar feat you can accomplish against ghosts or nemissaries?"
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| − | She looks to Vorpal, tone considering. "The problem is, we need to do something now, before our forces are fully marshalled. A raid is ideal -- the more elites we destroy in our onset, the fewer they will have when we penetrate into the interior of Whiteshield. Hastily raised walking dead are not as great a concern -- as you said, Pale Angel, we can bypass them. But besides those, the most likely possibility is that they must have a limited amount of trained material, otherwise Winlandia would have suffered heavier assault."
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| − | <b>Alexander: </b> "Would the personnel for the raid be few enough so we would use the Zephyr for it? That would allow us to come and go much, much faster!"
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| − | "And... when would we be ready for it? I think I need more... training." He looks at the Pale Angel, and... blushes a tad. Remembering both the bruises and... other things from their last sparring session, "Any time we might have we could train again, Pale Angel? Or are you too busy?"
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| − | <b>Alexsei: </b> He ponders for a moment, rubbing his chin absent mindedly as he ponders Valencia's question. "Spirits... are another story entirely. I cannot affect them directly like I would with risen corpses. However..." He brings a finger to his forehead, visibly toying with some stray thoughts. "However, if some of the ghosts among the opposing force were risen from the people in Whiteshield... I can affect them by finding their original bodies. It might be a gamble, but a cleansing of key resting places might lower their ranks, if such is the case."
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| − | <b>Valencia Silverstar: </b> "The Zephyr is not a military vessel to my knowledge, but her master would know better than I what she is capable of." Valencia replies, looking oddly at Alexander, and then flickering her gaze to Vorpal for a moment. Somewhat curious, and something more than curiosity.
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| − | Then she looks back to Alexsei, considering. "We would certainly never need to meet those ghosts on the field of battle, if that could be managed. Corpses are a problem when enhanced, but those tend to be used as vessels for war-ghosts, from my understanding of such things."
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| − | <b>Cael: </b> Cael shrugs a little "She is no military vessel. She has no capabilities to hide herself and no true armour to speak of. She could a small group however, and drop thm behind the lines, as long as we could be certain she would fly over no places prepared to take down flying vessels." he says carefully, considering her capabilities.
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| − | "As to ghosts ... those I kill will not rise again, though I realise it's certainly not practical for me to kill them all."
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| − | <b>Ryshassa: </b> "From what I can gather of the situation, I believe a preemptive strike would benefit us, yes. Whatever you decide on, though, I ask that I am not left to waste on the sidelines. A healer I may be, but I am able to hold my own defensively in a battle, and -- in fact -- may benefit you more effectively by healing and recovering your troops on the battlefield itself."
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| − | "If my abilities must first be put to the test -- as may be expected, since you have just met me -- I am more than willing to comply. But perhaps the word of the Prince will suffice. He has been witness to --" her hand brushes Alexsei's arm, gently "-- both of our capabilities thus far."
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| − | <b>Vorpal: </b> "Hmm?" The Ghost-Blooded raises a superior eyebrow at the prince's question. "Didn't you get enough beating last time? Maybe we'll have time for a quick bout at some point.. But not now."
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| − | "The Zephyr is not a military vessel, but it has already proven its worth in military maneuvers. I'd love to pack it with burning oil once again, but it is dangerous to try to pull off the same trick twice in a row. " Vorpal pauses, narrowing her eyes as she fixes Alexsei a considering look. "That is an interesting idea. We cannot go to Whiteshield, since that is where their most powerful troops will of course be stationed, but... how about other cities...?" Suddenly, she turns back to Valencia. "Where are the largest cities the enemy has chosen to destroy so far?"
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| − | <b>Alexsei: </b> "Then, milady, perhaps this should be attempted. With a list of the various resting places and battle sites of those cities, I would be able to cut the spirits' links to this world and banish them from our reality. I would figure that being able to lower their numbers in this manner would force them to seriously reconsider their strategies."
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| − | He gives a serious nod to the Pale Angel, then looks back to the map. "Of course, I understand the troops and personnel will have to remain on the front for the coming assault on Whiteshield... If I am to do this and stay true to your strategy, my ladies, I figure this... operation would have to be conducted with a minimum of people." He takes a moment to consider, gazing to Ryshassa for a second before turning back to Valencia. "If no one else can be spared, I will go alone."
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| − | <b>Valencia Silverstar: </b> "Mmmm." She considers what they all had said, thinking on her options. The airship had no armament as well -- there was little point in using her as air-support in any case. They <i>did</i> have some larger essence cannons in storage, but it would take too long to mount them on the airship, assuming it could take such modifications. So wasn't worth it to convert her into an auxillery cruiser.
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| − | As for the newcomers, they would prove useful. She looked to them. "A battlefield healer would prove quite useful, although you have the same problem the Pale Angel does in keeping up with the troops. Your husband's assistance with the dead would be a boon, however the dangers of going alone are great." She couldn't let the Sidereal go alone, of course. Too risky.
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| − | "My intelligence points to Whiteshield being the only victim of razing, but I could be wrong on that count."
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| − | <b>Vorpal: </b> "Hm". The Ghost-Blooded leans slowly backwards in her chair, rubbing her chin with the very tips of her fingers.
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| − | Flying troops had the advantage that they could easily bypass ground forces, but the supply trains were another matter entirely. Armies <i>needed</i> supplies to keep on going, and even Windian soldiers were no different from this. Slowly-moving caravans were easy targets for enemy harriers, however...
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| − | <i>...unless the supply wagons fly, too.</i>
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| − | She turns her head, giving Cael a long and thoughtful stare.
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| − | <i>I wonder how much Zephyr can carry.</i>
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| − | <b>Ryshassa: </b> Ryshassa's expression, which she has valiantly kept calm and collected throughout the discussion so far, slips suddenly into genuine concern -- and even, a flash of fear. Not for herself, of course; there are worse fates to fear than the rigors of battlefield healing, and she is more than accustomed to the burden of pain that would fall upon her in such a case. Her compassionate eyes are strained with worry as she turns quickly to her husband, braids snapping through the air like a punctuation, and grasps his hand tightly in hers.
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| − | <i>Alone?</i> Her lips do not move, but her thoughts are clear to him as she leans urgently closer. Valencia's words cause the tautness in her shoulders to relax somewhat, but nonetheless, she presses on, addressing Alexsei directly through their rings. <i>Perhaps I may be a boon to the rest of Valencia's army, given my abilities, but if you go alone--! I cannot allow it, either. It is too dangerous, beloved, and you have been tempting fate much too often as of late!</i>
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| − | Her attention whips back towards Valencia, still somewhat flustered by the sudden rush of emotion that seized her at Alexsei's suggestion. With a forced deep breath, she summons to herself enough composure to sketch some sort of reply. "K-keeping up with the troops?" She swallows, shaking her head impatiently at the shuddering in her voice. <i>Calm, Ryshassa.</i> "I assume you mean my lack of ...flight?"
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| − | <b>Valencia Silverstar: </b> "Yes." She says neutrally, pausing for a moment before continuing. "But there is a solution to that." She looks directly at Ryshassa, steel-grey eyes gauging once more. "Your healing charms, they can work through armor, yes?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Ryshassa:</b>Ryshassa furrows her brow at Valencia's question, her lips hinting at an unsatisfied frown. Unsatisfaction with her own abilities, that is -- or more accurately, the possibility that they may turn out to be useless.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "My ...method of healing is somewhat unorthodox, you might say. I must be able to touch skin to transfer wounds, though the transfer itself is a quick process. But why do you ask?" she queries, somewhat cautiously.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Valencia Silverstar: </b> She thinks for a moment more, then shrugs lightly. "If your skin must come into contact with that of the wounded, then my first idea will not work. But there are other ways of keeping up with the army. For campaigns it tends to be accompanied by a skyship or two for the staff. I have the feeling most battlefield treatment would be done on the ground, at any rate."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Ryshassa:</b>Ryshassa nods slowly, more or less reassured by Valencia's words, though not necessarily satisfied. "I will do everything I can to help, then, given my... limitations. Wherever you deem my presence will serve your troops the best."
| |
| − | | |
| − | She falls pensively silent, then, awaiting the continuation of battle planning -- including those of her husband, and where he will be deployed. <i>As long as he is not alone</i>, she repeats to herself, staving off the pangs of worry that reemerge.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Vorpal: </b> "Valencia," Vorpal says softly, leaning her elbow against an armrest and brushing two fingers against her cheek. "This is something we can discuss about later. If we are to mount a quick strike against our enemy, then we should begin right away." Her red eyes narrow slightly as she pauses, her gaze glittering with cold intensity as she ponders about possibilities. "If we are make the strike matter, we need to take out their more powerful troops, the ones that are not so easily replaced. In order to take out their more powerful troops, we need to find out where most of them are."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Valencia Silverstar: </b> "We cannot get at their best." The Lunar says flatly, tapping the part of the map that says 'Spire' with one finger. "They have wisely put their most elite troops behind their lines as a reserve to threaten whatever breakthrough we can manage against them. The best we can do is take out the biggest garrisons on the front line and be gone before the rest arrive."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> "So get to work", the Ghost-Blooded replies with a sigh. "Send out your scouts, summon your spirits, use whatever sorcery you need. Find out where they are, how large they are, what kind of troops they are composed of and so on. Just do it quickly."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Alexander: </b> "The opening of the Labyrinth." The prince says, trying to make out the map - unfortunately, he just did not have the military training to see a thousand strategies there as the ladies with him. But he could get that much. "They do not intend to keep the territory, just delay us and slay any army that tries to get to the center..."
| |
| − | | |
| − | His hands turn into fists, eyes burning... "They don't care about burning everything to the center of Whiteshield just to delay or destroy anything we send in, do they?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Cael: </b> "These Garrisons....how difficult would one be to disguise from the air? Disguise things like troop quantities and things of that nature." Cael asks quiety, thinking...
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Valencia Silverstar: </b> She reaches to the side of her chair, picks up a small collection of papers within a folder and puts it on the table. "Already done, feel free to take a look at the latest reports. This raid will consist of no more than a few hundred on our part -- we can spoil them with that while the rest of our force is transported to the field. When we invade, the first thing we hit will be their elites, filling the hole we made in their line. If they do not, we will punch a hole through another garrison and catch them off-axis."
| |
| − | | |
| − | She looks to Alex and Cael then. "Yes, their primary objective will be to destroy us, not hold territory besides Whiteshield, if that is the case. And disguising their forces on every garrison would require some sort of sorcery unless I am mistaken, and the caliber of that would probably be no higher than the Circle of Emerald."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Vorpal: Vorpal lets out a short chuckle. "It seems you have already thought this through." She settles down more comfortably in her chair, leans backwards and flicks her hand in a dismissive wave. "Go on."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Valencia Silverstar: </b> "Second opinions are however, appreciated." She demures, then raises her eyebrows at the Abyssal. "I think that you and I, and maybe another, should lead this raid. They tried to bring me to battle with the army you destroyed a short time ago -- they seem to be eager to get rid of me. And now, doubtless you as well."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Ryshassa: </b> "The... Labyrinth?" Ryshassa glances askance at Alexander, her head tilted to one side. "Please, excuse my ignorance... as you know, my husband and I are new to the situation. But what is it at the center of Whiteshield that the enemy wants so badly?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | She remembers the question that screamed through her mind when she freed Prince Cedric from the lingering clutches of the ghostly inquisitors that had tormented him the day Whiteshield fell. <i>The Golden Vault? Does it have anything to do with ...whatever that is?</i>
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Alexsei: </b> Looking at his wife, Alexsei slides a hand on hers. He did not need psychic powers to see his wife was worried at the idea of him being dispatched alone on a dangerous mission... He gives her a warm, reassuring smile, slightly inclining his head as he rubs her hand.
| |
| − | | |
| − | He peers once again at the map, his brow furrowing as he tries to visualize the position of troops and the layout of the surrounding region. "Hmmm. I do not know if you believe the strategy I have offered to be viable, my ladies... I still think that the surprise effect could be a strong advantage for our side, if we force the enemy to have to recalculate its deployment. Though I wonder if this can be done quickly and efficiently enough."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Alexander: </b> "You are our military commanders, yes. But it is good you did not go, Valencia... they had something prepared for you. Black Magic, I could barely use Ainerach to sever it, Cael barely escaped. A high cage, a cage for birds." He thinks, "I would hope they do not have more. But those Creations of Necromancy do not last long against Ainerach, thankfully... " The winged prince smiles at the Lunar, "I will make sure to not lose you from my sight!"
| |
| − | | |
| − | He holds this smile to the Lunar's face, echoes calling to him from the past...
| |
| − | | |
| − | <i>I will protect you this time...</i><br>
| |
| − | <i>I will not hold your dead body this time.</i>
| |
| − | | |
| − | After seeming endless moments, he turns to Ryshassa and her question, "When we met Cael... and another... we fought against two deathknights, the Vestal of the Livid Lamasery..." And his face darkens as he says this name, "... and one named Hierophant. Lilith bested him in combat with Cael's help, and killed him. When interrogating his corpse, she found out that they were preparing to 'open the Labyrinth' at Whiteshield, to call forth their true army."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Vorpal: </b> Vorpal is silent as Alex relates his knowledge. Slowly, however, she lifts her hand and presses it against her face in a careful, purposeful gesture. She exhales deeply, the sound amplified as it filters through her spread fingers.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Valencia Silverstar: </b> "It should be..." She trails off, looking at Alex oddly once more, expression unreadable except for a vague sense that she is <i>uncomfortable</i>, somehow. But Vorpal's own reaction catches her attention, out of the corner of her eye, and she looks toward the Abyssal. "Is..something the matter?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Vorpal: </b> "No, no, no, it's nothing", Vorpal replies wearily. "Go on, go on."
| |
| − | | |
| − | After one more rather murderous glare at Alex, she shifts her gaze over to Alexsei instead. "No, it is a very interesting plan, and I for one would like to try it out. However, before we could try that, we would need to know which cities they get most of their dead from. Valencia's network is good, but not that good." Shaking her head, she turns her eyes and attention back to the map. "Unless we can locate those corpses precisely, there is no point sending you out into the danger."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Alexander: </b> He looks at Vorpal... puzzled. Completely puzzled.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <i>Was it something I said?</i>
| |
| − | | |
| − | A little bit of cold sweat comes down his brow from being looked by the Pale Angel like that, and he quickly changes the subject to something else... Alexsei! "W-we have to meet the Dark Angel. And Moon. We cannot let them in there any longer... after we do, we should see how we all fit in this army. And Alexsei, you should be with the subtle ones to try and find their graveyards..."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Ryshassa:</b> Ryshassa frowns, her delicate brow marred by deep grooves of concern. Her fingers entwine with Alexsei's as his hand envelops hers, warm and gentle and soothing -- as he was since the first moments she spent in his company, trembling and mute with shock as he drew her away from the Realm and the shame that she embodied there. He cared for her then, when she could hardly summon the strength to care for herself, much less those who would later hail her as a compassionate, miraculous healer in the years that would follow.
| |
| − | | |
| − | She longs now to turn to him, to be drawn bodily into his embrace, running his fingers rhythmically through her long, dark hair as he murmurs tender words into her ear. <i>Later, </i>Ryshassa tells herself, urgently. <i>There will be time, still, before we are seperated. I must not lose my nerve now, of all times...</i>
| |
| − | | |
| − | Not quite comprehending the strange looks and silences passing between the others in the room, she picks up from what Alexander spoke beforehand. "Then--you do not know anything about this Labyrinth besides the name, or what resides within it? I am assuming they have not yet succeeded at this task, if they are still occupying the city, then. Only greater reason that we must hurry and attack as soon as we are able."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Valencia Silverstar: </b> "I'm flattered by your concern." The Lunar says somewhat dryly, then responds to Ryshassa's question, after marking the looks Alex and Vorpal are giving one-another.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "The Pale Angel and the Dark Angel would be the ones to ask on that." She muses, looking at the map, focused on Whiteshield and the surrounding terrain. "Lilith and Culwyeh, yes."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Alexander: </b> "Thank you, lady Silverstar. I hope I can live up to my words." He says in an automatic gesture, shaking his head a bit,
| |
| − | | |
| − | <i>Cold as the north, yes she is. Like all stories have said...</i>
| |
| − | | |
| − | He jokingly rubs his hands together, as if it had turned so much colder there, then turns to the Pale Angel, "So, what can you tell us of it, Lilith?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Vorpal: </b> Her eyes have crunched up into very thin lines as she smiles languidly back at Alex. "You might get nightmares", she says with poisonous sweetness.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Alexander: </b> His eyes lock with hers then. And he lets it out.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Pain, sadness, grief.
| |
| − | | |
| − | A blink, and he shows how thin, how thin his wall of happyness is. And how much it is hiding within it. How strong it has to be to hold it all back.
| |
| − | | |
| − | He chokes everything back in a moment of almost-tears, then tries his best confident smile, "Already have. Feel free to make them worse. I will make sure to pay you next time we spar if so!"
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Ryshassa:</b> Ryshassa turns to regard the Pale Angel, her hand still clasped loosely in her husband's. Cold, indeed, though part of her almost feels as if the coldness is partly for show, an elaborate mask of ice and indifference, sarcastic wit and... a certain thrill for the hunt. She finds herself not intimidated as much as intrigued, though distinctly disapproving at how Vorpal seems to delight at provoking the Prince's emotions at every turn.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Nonethless, she urges the Pale Angel to explain further. "Either way, we must know what we will potentially be facing. And if, as Valencia says, you would know intimately of such things..." She trails off, a ghost of a frown still lingering on her features. Her hand shifts under Alexsei's, nudging him minutely without breaking eye contact with the frosty pale woman. <i>Beloved, what do you make of her, this Pale Angel?</i> she queries through their rings.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Cael:</b> Cael says nothing to Vorpal, though his eyes do catch hers, and his message is plain to read on them.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <i>Just what in hell was that for?</i>
| |
| − | | |
| − | <i>The Prince starting to bother you with his newfound confidence?</i>
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Vorpal: </b> The Ghost-Blooded grows somber at his words, and she returns his gaze evenly, seriously, without a hint of humor or sarcasm. There is a recognition in her eyes, a silent acknowledgement of the frustration slowly piling up within, with no acceptable way to let it out.
| |
| − | | |
| − | For an eyeblink, her eyes flicker over to Cael. <i>I know, I know, you bastard! But do even you have any idea what they are asking for?</i>
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Very well, then", Vorpal finally nods, and the wicked smile does not return to her face. She shifts her position slightly so that she might sit a little straighter. "It is difficult to describe the Labyrinth for those who have not seen it. It's something that <i>must</i> be experienced by yourself before you can fully understand it. But I'll try."
| |
| − | | |
| − | There is a moment of silence as she gathers her thoughts and sorts through suitable words - and judging by the cold, unemotional mien on her face, she is going through many different synonymes for such words as <i>darkness, fear, death and terror</i>. But then again, what else is to be expected when an Abyssal prepares to tell a story?
| |
| − | | |
| − | "I'm sure all of you have spent dark nights alone in the bed when you were young. You lie there cold and alone, listening to every sound, surrounded by blackness... The only thing you can hear is the heavy beating of your own heart, your own breathing and maybe, just maybe, a tiny creak of the floorboard, maybe wind rustling the trees out there in the night, that sort of thing. This sounds familiar, yes?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Alexsei: </b> Considering the Pale Angel's reply, Alexsei gazes at the map once more, rubbing his chin absent-mindedly. <i>The links... what we need to find out is... The links that tie these spirits to Creation. Wait... </i>
| |
| − | | |
| − | His hand does not let go of Ryshassa's even when he raises his head to speak again. "If that knowledge is the only thing getting in the way, Pale Angel, then I believe there might be a way to get the knowledge we seek." He glances back at the map, placing a fist in front of his mouth. "I might have the way to trace the connection from the spirits back to their anchor in Creation. It's not something I have a precedent in doing, admittedly, but it's not really that far from what I am used to."
| |
| − | | |
| − | He hears Ryshassa's inquiry through his ring, making sure that his eyes do not leave the map as he lets his mental words reach her. <i>Hmmm. She does seem like a pretty ruthless leader, but a very competent one indeed. From what I have seen, she does fit the description of the Pale Angel that was well kniwn here in the North, up until her untimely demise... Though I have yet to see how she connects to this. In any case, we will have time to get to know her better, in the time we spend collaborating with her.</i>
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Alexander: </b> Everyone has been through that. But dfifferent than most others in the room, he has been through that yesterday as it were.
| |
| − | | |
| − | His gaze is still confrontational, still trying to banish all the nightmares he has, every. Single. Night, as he replies, "Yes. Yes, it is."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Ryshassa: </b> <i>Yes... but that's not what I... never mind.</i> Ryshassa cuts off her thoughts to Alexsei dismissively, not wanting to get too deeply into such a discussion. She nods instead in acknowledgment of the beginnings of Vorpal's description, contributing some musings of her own.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Yes of course. It is a deeply familiar feeling. Mind-numbing terror without an identifiable source to make it seem... real, and thus less of a threat."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Vorpal: </b> Vorpal taps the armrest with her fingers a few times before continuing.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "When you lie there long enough, you begin to imagine things. Maybe the creak of the floorboard isn't just the groan of aged wood, maybe someone is tiptoeing his way towards your bed. Maybe the rustle of the leaves outside isn't just the wind, but some evil creature of the night moving through the bushes. Sometimes, you might even see something out in the shadows, a vague shape of something black, something <i>evil</i>. The sum of all that you fear, given form."
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Take that fear, put it together with the fears of every single other living person out there in Cration, cram and squeeze it so hard that it turns solid obsidian and black stone and marble, and you have the stuff that the Labyrinth is made of."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Alexander: </b> "Fear... evil..."
| |
| − | | |
| − | He understood it.<br>
| |
| − | He did.<br>
| |
| − | On what came out of the Vestal's hands.<br>
| |
| − | On what made the Visage of a Thousand Demises.<br>
| |
| − | On the words around the Celebrant.
| |
| − | | |
| − | There was something there, every time his status as voice of the sun... felt it.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Something deeply unnatural.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Something made of Creation, but unlike Creation, of the darkest there is.
| |
| − | | |
| − | So, he understood it.
| |
| − | | |
| − | At least, the concept.
| |
| − | | |
| − | And that was obvious in his eyes as he answered, "I... see... and, where it is? You speak like you have been there yourself..."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Alexsei:</b> Alexsei listens intently to Vorpal's explanation, nodding slighty at her various inquiries, but otherwise not raising his voice as she describes this "Labyrinth" that the young prince mentionned earlier.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <i>Ryshassa, there is something... amiss might be the right word, yes. Something amiss with the Pale Angel. But I cannotpinpoint it yet, and I need more time to investigate the matter. As such... I am sorry I cannot offer a more precise answer, belladonna.</i>
| |
| − | | |
| − | "This... Cannot be a good portend for Whiteshield, and the North. I understand better then, my lady, what your urgency is..."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Vorpal: </b> She hurls a poisous glance at Alex, but pointedly ignores his question - there is no point answering.
| |
| − | | |
| − | The black, twisting, ever-changing maze that is the Labyrinth. It is a place which every Abyssal has remembers. Some, like the Prince of Shadows, relished those memories and visited the place again and again. Others, like the Pale Angel, preferred to bury them deep, deep into the back of her mind.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Or, that is what Vorpal hoped she had done, at least. But even as she speaks, attempting to turn a sheer, otherwordly sensation into words that others might understand, she finds those memories resurfacing.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <i>Grovel before them</i>, the Lover had said. <i>Grovel, and swear wealthy.</i>
| |
| − | | |
| − | She tightens control of her voice, keeping the her tone smooth and even, even though it is beginning to hurt her throat.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "It is a place of chaos, ever-changing - the route down is never the same as the way up. Time does not matter when there is no life to measure it. Place does not matter when there is no solid landmark by which you could steer. There is only the direction, up and down. Nothing else matters. Many of..." - the moment of hesitation is obvious here - "<i>my kind</i> go there for.... inspiration. It is a place where ghosts rule. Nowhere else is death so... twisted, so <i>pure</i>..." Her voice trails away, her lips move, mouthing words that should not be said aloud.
| |
| − | | |
| − | When she speaks again, there is an audible trembling in her voice, despite her own heroic efforts to keep it away. "The Labyrinth is the outer walls of a mausoleum. It is the stopper in the bottom of this world."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Cael: </b> "I ...see."
| |
| − | | |
| − | Cael isn't sure what else can be said, though he does thin of a question. One he's not sure he wants to ask, is fairly certain he doesn't want to know the answer too, and is 100% sure he needs too know it.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "... You say it is a Mausoleum. What is it that lies there dead?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Valencia Silverstar: </b> "You've never heard, Cael Pattona?" Valencia cuts in slowly, eyes harder than steel. And colder, in her way, but the hardness dominates. "No surprise, that. I tortured it out of a nemissary not too long ago. He gave up that much, before I destroyed him, gave up what this Shining One may be, and what the others there certainly are. His last words were tinged with worship."
| |
| − | | |
| − | "The Malfeans, Windwraith. The dead gods. The ones we slew long ago." She taps her forehead, where the caste mark would be. "My memories filled a bit of that in, prodded by this new information."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Vorpal: </b> There is a moment of silence, hanging with the weight of lead in the chamber.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Then the Pale Angel speaks again, her tone calm once again.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Valencia la Silverstar", she states, her words straight, black and cold like the edge of her soulsteel sword. "If you say that name aloud ever again, I shall skin you alive."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Alexander: </b> His eyes went wide.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Not just for her words, but the torrent that begun to pour.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b><i>Malfeans</b></i>
| |
| − | | |
| − | A wordof power.<br>
| |
| − | A word of curse.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <i>Malfean will</i><br>
| |
| − | <i>Malfean words. </i><br>
| |
| − | <i>Malfean agents. </i><br>
| |
| − | <i>Malfean desire.</i>
| |
| − | | |
| − | Suddenly, it becomes all in his mind's eye, as he grips his face, and for a fleeting second he understands how this single word connects all that happened to him since Calibration.
| |
| − | | |
| − | But the moment passes.
| |
| − | | |
| − | And as he blinks, terrified, all that is left is Vorpal's voice.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Valencia Silverstar:</b> "Yes," She looks back to Vorpal, losing some of her hardness, like the beast is being pulled back into her mind through main force. "The words call them into your soul, do they not? But heed me: there will be no violence in this house of mine."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Ryshassa:</b> Ryshassa gazes solemnly at the Pale Angel as she speaks, listening in silence until the conclusion of her speech about what lies within the Labyrinth: a spellbindingly horrific existence, in which space and time are insignificant, where all there is for the living to perceive and react to is one's own suffocating, overwhelmingly disarming fear. Even Vorpal herself seems shaken by the explanation, by what seems to be her own vivid <i>memory</i> of stepping into such a sinister realm herself.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <i>Her kind...?</i> Alexsei's own uncertain perception of the Pale Angel seems particularly poignant, given this... distinction she seems to draw between herself and the others in the room. Later on, there would be time to find out more, to comprehend the chilling repercussions of that distinction. There would <i>have</i> to be.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Valencia's explanation, though, is one that sparks recognition in Ryshassa's mind as well -- fed, as it has been for a year now, by the unlocked memories of the golden, twin-serpent headed staff balanced carefully against her seat. Her other hand brushes the length of the Caduceus, almost subconsciously, its familiar texture as uncomparably soothing as the touch of her beloved beside her, her companions in this life and the last...
| |
| − | | |
| − | The cold lash of the Pale Angel's anger surprises her, but she says nothing. Only observes... and contemplates.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <i>The Malfeans.</i>
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Vorpal: </b> "That", the Ghost-Blooded responds, every syllable like perfect splinters of frozen ice, "is up to you, bitch."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Alexsei: </b> The words exchanged suck in all empty space in the room, filling them with a palpable sense of dread and incomprehension. He peers at Vorpal, then turns his gaze to Valencia as she answers the question Cael left trailing through the air, heavy and thick like a strong morning mist.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <i>Malfeans. The Dead Gods... Their tomb.</i> He let the thoughts dance freely through his mind, his brow furrowing slightly. <i>Those of... your kind? They go there for inspiration? Servants of the Malfeans. Those who follow the Dead Gods. So that is what, Pale Angel... Those are the ones you serve...</i>
| |
| − | | |
| − | He raisaes his chin slightly at the exchange between the two women, but otherwise says nothing. The tension, however, is palpable. The very same as the one that grips his very soul when he thinks of the name. <i>The Malfeans...Their grip is all over the North. And I assume it means you cannot be too far behind...</i>
| |
| − | | |
| − | <i>One Thousand Virtues...</i>
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Alexander: </b> "P-Pale Angel..."
| |
| − | | |
| − | His voice comes tentatively, a hand trying to reach to her symbolically across the room... Vorpal was terrifying. And an angry Vorpal.... "She... she will not. But please..."
| |
| − | | |
| − | He looked so much less regal now that a little moment ago... "Please."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Cael: </b> <i>The Malfeans....I see.</i>
| |
| − | | |
| − | He flashes a calming look to Alex, and then turns to the Pale Angel and Valencia
| |
| − | | |
| − | "And if you can both kindly stop with the Daikliave waving. Now. You both ... we all.. have more important things to be concerned about. Like how to stop this ... Labyrinth spilling into the world."
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| − | <b>Valencia Silverstar: </b> "<i>Both</i>, Windwraith?" Valencia's tone is firm. To be a civilized Wyld Goddess was to know when to leash your beast tightly. To master it was to master yourself further, to make the talons sharper. Many of those...<i>barbarians</i> could never realize that. "We are not children under your care. That said, this bickering is pointless."
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| − | She goes smoothly into the next bit. "We will stop it by killing the ones attempting to open that gate in Whiteshield. Perhaps we will need more?"
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| − | <b>Alexander: </b> "Need more people? Well.... we could see if we can freed those in Whiteshield! My people..."
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| − | <i>And it is better that they die fighting than just used by those bastards to delay us.</i>
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| − | "Anyone... else you think you might call? We have wastelands and small kingdoms that could never help for hundreds of miles around..."
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| − | <b>Ryshassa: </b> "More...?" Ryshassa echoes, stirring herself after a moment from her uneasy reverie.
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| − | Pausing to think, the healer glances from Valencia to Vorpal and back. Surely, neither are children, and Valencia had done her best to handle Vorpal's provocation in a civilized manner. But the tenseness coiled in the Pale Angel, and the sudden lash of temper at the cursed name she spoke--it was best that they kept their emotions well in hand, as Cael had attempted to point out. She shoots a glance at him, briefly, and acknowledges him with a near imperceptible nod.
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| − | "What of my husband's plan?" she continues aloud. "Surely he would be able to even the odds quite a bit in our favor. Particularly if, as he suggested earlier, he can pinpoint the location of the bodies anchoring the spirits on the enemy's side to Creation."
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| − | <b>Alexander: </b> "Remember, they occupied the other cities. The Ghost's corpses are either on Whiteshield... or on the Bishop's lands to the West."
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| − | "On the first case, we would need to breach their defenses first, and probably need the help of the Dark Angel or suchlike to sneak up to the capital. On the latter, we would need to breach crypts, probably well-guarded, on the other side of Gethamane." He once again speaks with a nearly-vacant voice, with more knowldge, older than he should sound..."It is something of import, but that we can only do after we are inside..."
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| − | "... right?"
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| − | <b>Valencia Silverstar: </b> "It is definitely a plan with merit." The Lunar acknowledges, face serene as before now, wiped of even the smallest irritation. "I wonder how much time we have before these armies spill forth, though. We should stop the gate from opening first, and your husband should be able to cut off the Bishop's usage of the Whiteshield dead at the very least. His native army must...wait till another time."
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| − | <b>Alexander: </b> "We should. Let us focus in going in as fast as we can, and then we see about stopping that!"
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| − | "I am sure some of us can get to know when and where the ritual to open it will be held from their forces after we are in there... although I am fairly sure I know of the latter."
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| − | <b>Alexsei: </b> "So the fallen from Whiteshield will be the primary target. Once the forces are in and have secured the place, then we can try to track the rest of the Bishop's 'supply'." He pauses for a moment, considering the Prince's intervention. "Indeed, majesty. Let us group our efforts to breaching their defenses for now. I will remain at your disposition, of course."
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| − | <b>Ryshassa:</b> Ryshassa nods shortly. "Then we all proceed together, to begin with. Towards an assault on the Whiteshield front. Hopefully with coordination from the Dark Angel and her people from below. She, too, was to be gathering allies for the cause, correct?"
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| − | "Swift and decisive would be the best option... as the Pale Angel suggested, we should move sooner than later, given what we now know. If we already have reports from the scouts, what stops us from beginning now?"
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| − | <b>Vorpal: </b> "Actually", Vorpal speaks out for the first time after a great while. Her usual control of the situation is returning - although she is still in a visibly bad mood, her the tone of her voice has already relaxed. "The last time I heard of the Dark Angel, she was causing trouble down in the Spire and should now be leading the enemy in a wild-goose chase across the wilds. If we are to strike, we should do it now."
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| − | <b>Valencia Silverstar: </b> "I agree." The Lunar states calmly, sitting up straight, seemingly ready to get to her feet. "We need to carry a raid out as soon as possible, then we can begin our full attack when the forces are all marshalled. What's left to decide for the invasion will not take long."
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| − | "Let us hope the Dark Angel is giving them a merry chase, indeed." She stands, taking the sheathed sword from the side of her chair as she does, looking at them all. "They dream of a great and merciless war that cloaks the North in everlasting darkness. We will burn their dreams <b>down</b>."
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| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/ThirdMovement|Third Movement]]
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| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/DanceOfAngels|A Dance of Angels]]
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