|
|
| (4 intermediate revisions by 2 users not shown) |
| Line 1: |
Line 1: |
| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/SecondMovement|Second Movement]]
| + | #REDIRECT [[ADanceOfAngels]] |
| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/DanceOfAngels|A Dance of Angels]]
| |
| − | | |
| − | == Army of Darkness ==
| |
| − | | |
| − | <i>The Quicksilver Zephyr...</i>
| |
| − | | |
| − | Flying over the Northern clouds, during mating season of ice moths, keeping pace with a group of playful air elementals...
| |
| − | | |
| − | The dinner on on the moon-lit deck proceeded peacefully, and soon enough Orchid got her payment in Jade Script, and departed back to the Hourglass... a promise of Cael to come back and settle the rest of his debt, for the danger on her life, for the prince's.
| |
| − | | |
| − | But now is another day, and duty sinks back in. A prince walks up to Cael, now properly dressed on the White Jade Breatplate he had acquired on the Perfected Palace of Eventide... "So... what now? She is healed, the forces of this Celebrant were approaching a city yesterday, Sun only knows what happened since then. What do we do?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Cael:</b> Cel stretches slighty, still aching from the vemon of yesterday, though that is fading fast.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "We take a very careful look at the city from quite a distance, which I can do, and we find out where the Celebrant is, and where her army is. Then we decide."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Alexander:</b> "Alright...let's do it" The prince nods, looking around, "We should have the Pale Angel with us by then, right? She is the soldier..."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Cael:</b> "We can wake her when we know what's going on. I don't think she could help much with the scouting."
| |
| − | | |
| − | He says reasonably, piloting the Zephyr quite low to the ground, stopping some ninty miles from the city, casting his eyes out over the windswept plain before him, seeking the Celebrant's army, and then when he locates that, the Celebrant herself.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "This Celebrant, do you know what she looks like?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Alexander:</b> "Nope. Moon saw a giant monster of blood, and thought that might have been her when Lilith talked about it... but I have no idea. She was not with those we fought in Whiteshield..." Alexander shakeshis head.... "All I knew before was Ivory, and the Vestal... well, and a great dark statue, do not know of its name..."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Celebrant of Blood:</b> A black stain on the countryside.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Where Cael flies over, he sees destruction. They have been here! it cries out, all the burnt fields, the broken villages, the sites of bloody battles as regional army after regional army has been taken down by the power of the Celebrant. Cael follows their path.... and arrives over them. Hundreds of men in black armor. of Zombies. Hundreds and hundreds... and with them, the colossus of blood. Each step of it making the earth tremble.
| |
| − | | |
| − | It... and its hounds. Four of them, so many corpses, corpses of men and monsters, stitched together with souls and soulsteel. They lumber as tall as the Colossus, siege engines and great monsters. Spine chains serpent amidst the ranks as centipedes in a festering corpse.
| |
| − | | |
| − | An army lies broken at their wake, a village in ruins, more and more shamblers raising on the village to walk towards the army... and it will not be long until they reach the walls they march to, on the edge of Cael's vision...
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> To be able to walk briskly up and down the corridors without pain. Not having to think about being careful with every move you make.
| |
| − | | |
| − | It is amazing what a few hours' of good sleep can do to an Exalted, Vorpal wonders as she approaches the bridge with an even stride, her body bearing no signs of the horrible wounds she had suffered from. Fully dressed now, with Mournful Kiss hanging by her side and the velvet cloak fastened around her shoulders, there is energy and eagerness in her step. After being hurt and bed-ridden for so long, one tends yearn for action, to be ready to cause trouble once more.
| |
| − | | |
| − | She halts by the doorway, noting Cael and Alex inside. She does not enter, however, but leans against the wall intead, folding her arms over her chest and listening to the conversation.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Cael:</b> "I..Ah, found them. And her, I suppose. It is not a pretty sight. More zombies than grains of sand on a beach, 4 ...things, not that much smaller than the Zephyr."
| |
| − | | |
| − | His eyes roam over the collossus again.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "And then the Colossus of Blood."<br>
| |
| − | <i>Such power ... necromancy or sorcery, almost certainly. Probably necromancy...</i>
| |
| − | | |
| − | He tilts his head as he estimates. "A day ... maybe two ...no, a day's march from the city walls."
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Alex, could you please go and wake the Pale Angel, ask her to come here?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Alexander:</b> <i>More zombies than grain of sand on a beach.</i>
| |
| − | | |
| − | The prince gulps, remembering the invasion Whiteshield... him and Fiona, surrounded by those things....
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Yes! Yes, I will!" He turns around, hastily... and meets her. "Well, I would, if she was not already here." He makes a flourish, "Good morning, most esteemed jailor."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> "And good morning to you, o prisoner with the greatest amount of freedom this side of Treshold", Vorpal responds with a half-smile as she strides into the bridge. "I wouldn't miss this for a king's ransom", she states, halting beside Cael, standing with her hands still folded, surveying the landscape below the flying ship, like a commander she used to be.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Cael:</b> <i>Jailor, hrm? We shall have to have a talk soon, Alex. About this and many other things...</i>
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Good Morning, Pale Angel. I see the morning finds you in much better health. As to missing something, there isnt much to see, the army is some sixty miles that way." He makes a gesture in the direction of the army. "I assume you heard my description of the force?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Alexander:</b> <i>Can we even do anything against that?</i>
| |
| − | | |
| − | Alexander never had to push himself... to fight things so much greater than himself. Not with a circle, not like this. He never had to....
| |
| − | | |
| − | <i>Day from a city, though... if we can.. save them...</i>
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> "Yes, I did", Vorpal responds curtly, still gazing out with a thoughtful mien on her face. "Some diversion, hmm? The mistake the folk of this land made was that they allowed the army to rampage unchecked for this long - the army of the dead gains a new soldier every time a foe is slain."
| |
| − | | |
| − | She remains silent for a moment, unmoving, her eyes fixed to the horizon.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Has anyone actually moved against it?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Cael:</b> "I do not think it was a mistake, that none have tried to stop its spread."
| |
| − | | |
| − | He casts his eyes out again.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "There have been several armies have tried to battle with it, not exactly small forces either, if I read the signs in its wake correctly. From the ...clean battle fields, they are, as you said, swelling its ranks now."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <i>Damn the dead ... damn them all...<br>And damn the darkness that spawned them.</i>
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> "What I'm wondering about", the Ghost-Blooded says, turning away from the windows, "is that why they are trying to stop it individually. One or two separate armies losing a battle against them I can understand, but the remaining commanders should have learned the true size of this army of the dead by now. So why do they keep on trying again and again with numbers that are insuffucient for the task?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | Pacing slowly across the room, she halts and turns to face the others once more. "If there are any mortal armies left in this region, they'll need to pool their forces. Coordinate their attacks."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Cael:</b> "I will cast my eyes about for them soon." He nods.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "I'm not entirely sure why we have to rely on them. The Celebrant is the problem, yes? Even acting as a concerted group, they will never take her down, not fast enough. And if we chop off the head, the rest of the army will fall, correct?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | He looks to the Pale Angel for confirmation.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Alexander:</b> <i>Things, not smaller than the Zephyr</i>
| |
| − | | |
| − | Alexander closes his eyes. When he speaks, his voice is older than it should be... much, much older... speaking words of knowledge. "Those four things. If they are constructs of Necromancy, awoken by Moranine's gift, I will deal with them. Ainerach can cut through the binds of Malfean words. As you should know, Solar Wind." He addresses Cael. "Maybe the dead as well."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> "That is true,", she admits with a sigh, "although it doesn't mean that the army will just vanish into thin air because the head is lopped off."
| |
| − | | |
| − | "The problem, however, is the size of this army", the Ghost-Blooded continues, gesturing with one gloved hand in an attempt to emphasize the point. "The Celebrant needs to be found first before we can even hope for a chance to succesfully strike her down. Otherwise, we'd have to battle through all of her troops first." She hurls a hard glance at Alex. "And I do not believe even such a weapon as Ainerach would be up to the task."
| |
| − | | |
| − | She turns once more to stride slowly across the bridge, her head bent in thought, the hand still making its curious gestures. "If the Dark Angel was here, I'm certain that she would step forth somewhere around this point, brag about her abilities as an assassin and say that she could sneak into the enemy camp, slay the commander and come out without anyone being the wiser. Unfortunately, we do not have the time for that... and the dead do not sleep in any case."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Cael:</b> <i>Just what do mean, Alex ... just what does that mean?</i>
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Do you know what she looks like, then? I will cast my eyes over the horde for her."
| |
| − | | |
| − | He gestures himself.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "As to the troops, the zombies at least, they will scatter before his anima like snowflakes in the summer sun, they cannot face the righteous fury of a Pillar of Heaven, if I remember my lessons correctly." He shrugs softly. "The ones that do approach, we should be able to take out together. So, we can reach her."
| |
| − | | |
| − | He lets the pale being before him consider this, as he turns his eyes back to the horde, seeking the Celebrant in its teeming masses.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> "No, I fear I have only heard of her."
| |
| − | | |
| − | Her cloak sweeping around her dark-clad form, she suddenly points her hand at Cael. "Find the Celebrant for us. We need to know what she looks like before we can continue. See the head of the army and its center first. Those are the places where the leader usually is. Look for large entourages of officers. She will most likely keep some lackeys handy at all times."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Celebrant of Blood:</b> The fruit of magic on Cael's bracers shines... and he sees it, so far away, as if they were right next to him. He sees the army on what is left of the village... and on the center of it... he sees her.
| |
| − | | |
| − | It could be no one else.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Skeletal and gaunt, bones showing through over translucent pale skin, she chants. The mark of Daybreak bleeding on her forehead, clad in robes of armored, coagulated blood, written and wrapped in the words of the Bishop's bible, as the dark words of the Malfeans shine all around her like festering wounds on the tapestry of reality. She looks powerful even on her apparent frailty, chains dangling from her arms menacingly, weapons. She looks the very visage of death, face half covered in a dark steel mask that seems to be branded, burned onto her face.
| |
| − | | |
| − | At her feet, lies... a beast. A great hound, a dark wolf, howling... its fur all cut in many places, in everburning red-hot wounds... almost like embers shaped as cuts. But it also has tatoos. Silver tatoos, darkened by the underworld. A Lunar Anathema. And it howls as she works her dark magic and raises the bodies of the villagers...
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> Vorpal paces up and down the bridge, humming idly a strange tune as she waits for Cael's report.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Those familiar with the ancient lore might recognize it as a funeral chant.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Cael:</b> Cael's eyes narrow, his face hardening slightly, as he sees the scene of devestation in the village.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Ah, there she is ... more necromancy to raise the remains of a village ... more like a skeleton than a real person." he remarks idly.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "And she has a ...pet. It was a lunar ... once. The silver of its tattoos is tarnished now. I do not know what it is now."
| |
| − | | |
| − | Cael focuses his perceptions then ... not on the real world, but on the world inhabited by spirits, and far more importantly for this army ... Ghosts.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Celebrant of Blood:</b> Scores of War Ghosts, clad in dark steel weapons and armor. At least a hundred of them... possibly two. They wait there, wait for the moment to materialize.
| |
| − | | |
| − | All around the Celebrant, five of them. ghostly monks, the prophetess' bodyguards. It is obvious what they are... martial artists if Cael ever saw one.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Alexander:</b> "Necromancy... yes. I can fight that."
| |
| − | | |
| − | "She twisted one of our mates as well?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Cael:</b> "And then five ghosts about her ... monks they seem like, and they move with the grace and power one would expect of those schooled in Martial Arts."<br>
| |
| − | <i>They will not fall easily, I think...</i>
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Then there are a hundred or so war ghosts in a few units spread through the army..."
| |
| − | | |
| − | He turns from the army, to face Alex. "Yes, she has. I can think of no other reason for such a tarnish..."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> Vorpal turns at his voice... and smiles lightly. "The Death Hand, most likely. We wiped away the Shadowlands Circle, but there is still the Labyrinth and the Void to deal with... or so they say."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Alexander:</b> "Wanton slaughter. Advance of darkness. They keep it, still..." He grits his teeth.
| |
| − | | |
| − | His eyes have not opened yet. "We have to go there, Solar Wind. Destroy them. The North is ours, and we should never let them do it. Not here. Not anywhere. A life is too precious for it. Life, and death, are too precious to be used like this."
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Luna as well, eh? I thought they would only do as our friend the blade of ice there. To dim the light of the sun... and not all of heaven. This is... troublesome. I don't know if this body can fight their savagery, to save the poor soul to be reincarnated again without it tarnish. Poor dimmed lights.. I want to celean them. All of those tainted by the Abbyss, but... too young..." He says, perfect face and words, closed as an statue, a spirit, a picture...
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Cael:</b> "Oh, destroy them we will, Alex." Cael smiles. It is a slightly devilish smile.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "We cannot let them continue this. We cannot let them take the city ... so many dead, all swelling the ranks ... and so she must die, and they all must die again, and pass on to the next cycle."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <I>And you cannot argue with that, can you not pale angel? That army must fall if it is not grow a hundrefold in a day.</i>
| |
| − | | |
| − | He turns to face the prince. "You are young yet, but you will grow, in age, power, wisdom. Alas, we have not the time for you to grow just yet, and so you will have to learn like we all did, as you go along."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <i>And believe me, you will grow and be stronger for it ... even if you do not deserve such an upbringing...</i>
| |
| − | | |
| − | <i>But the world is rarely fair, no?</i>
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> "Assuming, of course, that you can stay alive long enough to grow", Vorpal adds softly after a moment, looking evenly first at Alex, then at Cael. "All things must eventually die, after all."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <i>But what will happen before you die, I wonder?</i>
| |
| − | | |
| − | She walks up to the window, staring at the horizon and the army festering somewhere out there.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <i>If she is as visible as he says, the Celebrant should be easy enough to locate even in a large mass of the dead.</i>
| |
| − | | |
| − | <i>It might be risky, but it might well work.</i>
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Cael:</b> "Of course." Returning her gaze evenly. "Eventually."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <i>But if I have my way, that will not be for a very long time.</i>
| |
| − | | |
| − | <i>But back to the matter at hand...</i>
| |
| − | | |
| − | "So, what do you advise as our plan of attack?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> "She will be our target, of course", Vorpal responds without turning. "There is no point trying to waste our energies battling through the whole army just to reach her, though." Wiping a strand of white hair from her face, she looks over her shoulder at the two Solars. "Luckily, we can attack from the above."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Cael:</b> "Bring the Zephyr in over the army?" Cael sounds skeptical. "In case you haven't noticed, this ship is a pleasure cruiser, not a fighting craft."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <i>And I am not sacrificing Calisara. Or Anne.</i>
| |
| − | | |
| − | "And the army should part before Alex's glory, when his anima is unvailled."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Alexander:</b> "The city?" He asks, his eyes slowly opening up... old...
| |
| − | | |
| − | ... then, young, once again. "When they are ready to strike the city, we take them on their backs?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Or...?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | He turns his gaze, slowly, still tryng to recover from seeing depths greater than Creation... "We be in it, with them?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> "Zephyr doesn't need to fly low", the Pale Angel returns, somewhat edgily. The Ghost-Blooded turns to face the others, her skin startlingly white against the greyness of the sky behind her.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <i>Calisara doesn't need to be in danger.</i>
| |
| − | | |
| − | <i>Anne doesn't need to be in danger, either.</i>
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Only low enough to drop a few things to the ground. Fortunately for us, things usually fall a long way without any help." She turns over to Alex for a moment, to respond to his question: "I'd rather catch the Celerant unawares, when she is not prepared for a battle of any sort. I believe we should attack her before there is any chance for her to threathen the city."
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Tell me, skypirate, do you have any oil aboard? Whiskey, spirits, anything that would burn nicely?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Cael:</b> Cael smiles softly as he begins to get an idea of the plan...
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Not much on board ... a few bottles of spirits. I do have a passably sized hold though, and..."
| |
| − | | |
| − | He considers. "There are several trade cities within a twelve hour round trip from here. We can buy a lot of oil, I think."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> Vorpal nods. "Then we shall go and load ourselves full. There is no hurry. Let the Celerant work her necromancy to her heart's content, and waste her powers for the day."
| |
| − | | |
| − | Pausing, she folds her hands once more, before beginning to lay out the details of her plan: "It will be a swift strike. First, we shall pour down flaming compliments for her successful campaign. Then we shall follow ourselves, and finish the work the fire began." Her red gaze flickers over to Alex. "After that is done, we will need to rely on the confusion and the prince's powers to hold the undead at bay long enough for us to escape in one piece."
| |
| − | | |
| − | She turns back to Cael, her tone growing softer, her words almost soothing: "There will be very little danger for Zephyr or its passengers." Suddenly, however, she breaks into a wicked smile, and her eyes twinkle with mischief. "How high the ship will fly will be entirely up to how high you will dare to jump, pirate."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Cael:</b> Cael starts to arc the ship around, heading for the nearest city, staying well clear of the army to the north.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "How high I dare jump from, eh?" He grins. "We'll have to see about that..."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> "Good", Vorpal nods and begins to list things with her fingers. "We shall need, one, torches, rags and the other things needed to create the fire. Two, as many barrels of oil and other flammable material as this ship can carry. I don't care if we would need to buy the city dry of their spirits to do it."
| |
| − | | |
| − | Something else obviously occurs to her at this point, and she pauses for a breath or two before listing the third item: "And two wax candles." Walking past Cael, she pats him onto the shoulder as he goes. "I'll leave the trading part to you, silver tongue."
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Do you approve my plan, o prince?" she asks as she moves past Alex.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Alexander:</b> Alex smiles at the way Vorpal says so....
| |
| − | | |
| − | "...Yes, of course. I approve wholeheatedly. Let's go, Windwraith. Let's go, Pale Angel. To burn them. Every. Last. One. Of. Them."
| |
| − | | |
| − | Holding Ainerach's handle. They would feel its touch, tomorrow. They would feel the touch of the Edge of Morning.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Cael:</b> "Naturally. Calisara, dear, can you start to work on reshaping the cargo bay to hold this oil? And where is Anne? I have a small job for her..."
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Calisara:</b> <i>"Of course"</i> Comes the ephemeral voice, everywhere and nowhere in the Zephyr, <i>"It shall be cleaned in a few, dearie."</i>
| |
| − | | |
| − | <i>"She is on her room. Want me to tell her to you?"</i>
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> Vorpal halts by the doorway, not looking back at the prince, but hearing his words nonetheless.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <i>Kill them,</i> the Lover had said. <i>Kill every single one of them.</i>
| |
| − | | |
| − | <i>They shall all die,</i> the Pale Angel had whispered in return.
| |
| − | | |
| − | It was ironic how her mistress' command had ended up helping the living she so sought to destroy.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Cael:</b> "Mmm...no, I'll find her there. I need to pick up some things before I see her first, anyway."
| |
| − | | |
| − | "I will tell you when we reach the city, Pale Angel, Prince Alex."
| |
| − | | |
| − | He sets the controls to autopilot, then goes off to retrive some things from his small study, before going to see the young girl.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Alexander:</b> He thinks. Long and hard, coming to a hasty decision as the Pale Angel stops at the doorway... maybe the last chance. Now or never. A dark skinned man's face flashing on his sight. he had taught him so much... always commending his training, always telling him his faults. Always ready to impart wisdom, blows, and compliments.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Otieno..." The boy whispers. His southern teacher...
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Pale Angel!", He calls, his voice hardening.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <i>You are a prince. A royal. Behave as such. She is scary.</i>
| |
| − | | |
| − | <i>But only a soldier. She has to know.</i>
| |
| − | | |
| − | "I have a request. Your mistress wants me alive, does she?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> Vorpal is about to move on again, but the prince's voice stays her feet. With a somewhat irritated snarl, she lifts her hands to her hips and turns to face the young Solar. "Again?" she asks with a dry tone.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <i>Really now. Scratch the dog once and...</i>
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Cael:</b> Cael is silent for the moment, just listening. And willing the prince to speak up. Though, if he does not speak now ... he will have to speak later.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <i>So, just what is it between you and the two angels, Alex?</i>
| |
| − | | |
| − | <i>And will you bring it up now?</i>
| |
| − | | |
| − | <i>And you, Pale Angel, just how iwll you respond...</i>
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Alexander:</b> The voice comes, young and old.
| |
| − | | |
| − | So long ago, the same request. A lady pale as snow, wielding a translucent fang of the dragon of air in her hand. A shining prophet, a lord whose words had to be heed, whose presence was like a kiss of the sun. In those days, the same request. Words so similar.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "She wants me alive. Teach me how to be. We have a day until we get there..." His hand lands lightly over the handle. "The north feared you. Teach me why."
| |
| − | | |
| − | A request, asked so long before.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Time flows like a river.. and history repeats. Wrapped in shadows and darkness, wrapped in dark words, spiraling down to the same fate...
| |
| − | | |
| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> And out comes the answer. The precise same one, from word to word, as was said during an age long gone. Calm and honest, yet lethal and unbending, like a sword of finest steel.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "You will be in for a beating, boy", she states, and turns to leave.
| |
| − | | |
| − | | |
| − | ----
| |
| − | | |
| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/SecondMovement|Second Movement]]
| |
| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/DanceOfAngels|A Dance of Angels]]
| |
