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Revision as of 20:36, 11 November 2006

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All for the Glimmer of Gold

Amber Post.

26th of Resplendent Air, tail end of Morning.

In a hurry, everyone begins to flee from the Inn's cantina.

A moment ago, a member of the 'Firebrands' mercenary group attempted to kill Captain deSiri and the Pale Angel with a Firedust grenade as they tried to eat a very, very late breakfast. However, a single sweep of the Pale Angel's sword, Betrayer, sent the blast far away from its targets.

"I've felt like hurting someone all day now... " are the Pale Angel's powerful words.

All bets are out.

????: The bandages come out, the disguise of burns showing a man scarred, but not burnt, a man that could never be considered beautiful, but certainly, insane. "Damn you..." the rogue says, an eye larger than the other as he assesses the situation... "You are worth all that."

But you are up against Ki-Kai-Kaine of the Firebrands!"

Selina de Windia: Selina feels the splattering of deflected fire coming toward her, and simply holds up a hand at it, not even looking from her breakfast. A little touch of the Terrestrial and Abyssal in her power, and the fire is *whuffed* out by a strange breeze. Hearing Vorpal's words, she decides to just stay seated and listen to what will undoubtably be horrific carnage.

And continues calmly eating her breakfast, munching on some bacon.

Vorpal: "I bet you love that name", the Pale Angel growls and starts forward with determined steps. Even as she speaks, she presses one pale fist firmly against the palm of her other hand. The crack of her knuckles is loud and ominous. "Every time you say it, others will think you are stammering with fear!"

She comes to an abrupt halt and makes a sharp, inviting gesture with her hand. "Get over here, stammerer! Come play a punching bag!"

deSiri: And the captain finally lifts his head from the back of the table, having covered it and waited for the blast to go past...

... it had, without a burn. The Pale Angel alright...

And she's angry.
Oh joy.
Will the inn stand when she is done, he thinks?

Ki-Kai-Kaine: He fumes. His face goes visibly darker red as he pointed at her with a finger that trembles in anger... "Y... you! They tremble with fear, indeed!" He speaks with all the pompous importance of one who considers 'indeed' to be a powerful and erudite word used to terrify others. "And when I am finished, so will you!"

And then, he rushes towards the Palest Angel...

Vorpal: Vorpal does not move.

Her hands falling to her hips, her feet slightly spread, her imposing chest thrust out, the Pale Angel merely watches her opponent approach. Her red eyes glaring at Ki-Kai-Kaine, she silently dares him to make the first move.

Ki-Kai-Kaine: He stretches his padded arms, bronze metal appearing from within letaher bracers and arm-covers, grains falling from them.... "Watch, Pale Angel. I am known as 'Burning Kaine' for a reason!" He says, as he rushes towards her, and as he comes closer... the cannons explode, letting out concentrated firedust, wreathing the Pale Angel on the grains, smoke and fire... "Burn! Burn! Hahahahahahahaa! Burn!!!"

Vorpal: The smoke and flames wash over the Pale Angel. She meets them like an unmoving statue, not flinching, not shifting, not even blinking her crimson eyes - this is nothing but a parlor trick, beneath her status.

Unknowst to Ki-Kai-Kaine, the smoke actually works in Vorpal's favor. It obstructs her so thoroughly that her real defense against the attack can activate without no-one noticing it. Hidden behind the veil of heat, she closes her eyes for a second, sensing how the rigid form of Black Queen's Vestments suddenly liquidfies around her torso. Protean soulsteel climbs up along her throat and spills out from every seam of her leather clothing, covering her entire being in writhing blackness for a split-second. The heat of flames is drained into the endless chill, the grains rattle harmlessly against her face, chest and belly before falling down onto the floor. The effect is thorough, the defense perfect. Not a single tongue of flame gets through.

Its purpose fulfilled, the armor retreats back into its original shape... Just in time to reveal the unimpressed form of the Pale Angel as the smoke finally rolls past her. Her cloak sways gently behind her in the heated air. She's still standing in the same pose as earlier, hands still on her hips, eyes unblinking, not even the slightest trace of soot marring her immaculate white skin.

Ki-Kai-Kaine: "N... nooo... how... how.... you are not even burnt!!!!!" He calls, his eyes wide as he sees her...

""You.... yyyooouuuuu!!!"

Vorpal: Abruptly, Vorpal take a single step forward. One hand darts up from her hip, a black and white blur headed towards Ki-Kai-Kaine's chest.

Ki-Kai-Kaine: The Pale Angel holds him.... and he explodes. Fiedust covers him, burning all of his cloak and clothes but his special fire-lizard leather.... "Hahahaa! Now I got you! Fire cannot burn me! But you touch me... and I burn you!! Hahahahaha!" He says, to everyone outside a voice in the middle of a cloud of smoke....

Vorpal: The Pale Angel's fingers snake through the flames and billowing smog and curl around a handful of what remains of her enemy's coat. The floor vanishes from under Ki-Kai-Kaine's feet. One hand still on her hip and moving with very little ceremony, Vorpal lifts him over her head. The acrid smoke swirling lazily about them, she holds his weight lightly, easily, her arm and face not seeming to register any strain at all.

Ki-Kai-Kaine: And she was still whole. Unburnt. Unscathed.

"Wha... whaaaa? You are a monster! A monster! Let me go! Let me gooo!"

He cries, trying to push her away, explosions of firedust on his hands as he tries to take her arm out of his cloak.....

deSiri: ... deSiri had seen those explosions maim many a man, hot as ovens. So, it was true what they had said about the Salamander's gift to Kaine. And it was true that he consumed half of the Firebrand's supply in his body alone. Impressive, certainly impressive. Of course, it did not seem to be able to touch the Pale Angel.

The captain can only shake his head at the waste of a Talent's worth of Firedust...
Didn’t he know how hard it was to get that up here in the North?

Vorpal: The Pale Angel is definitely unimpressed by Ki-Kai-Kaine's best efforts. Her arm could just as well be solid soulsteel - so firm and immovable it is against her captive's struggles. But still, she watches him fight it for a while, to get her the point across, before moving on to the next stage of her little fun.

"Suffer", she suggests, smiling sweetly. Her hand becomes a blur once again, her arm snapping forth in a motion terrifying in its sheer power, her intention to send the miserable Firebrand hurtling like a doll across the room...

Ki-Kai-Kaine: Ki-Kai-Kaine goes through tables, turning them to coals in two firedust explosions, falling against the wall with a very, very, very, very pained ouch! "This... hurts.. what kind of monster are you? Not even giants of snow are so strong!!!"

Vorpal: "I am the Pale Angel", Vorpal replies, and the words seem to be enough to explain exactly what kind of a monster she is.

Perhaps it is a trick of flickering light, perhaps it is imagination, but even as she speaks, a strange, disturbing glow seems to light her widened eyes. A broad, arching smile caresses her lips, revealing her white teeth for all to see. "But don't worry. I'm trying to hold it back the best I can. I have a lot of stress to release, you see, and I have all day to vent it on you."

On that moment, there seems to be very little sanity left in the woman.

Ki-Kai-Kaine: "But I know the remedy for such strength!" He calls as he picks a fire-proof couch made from the stomach of a fire elemental, picking a knife in flames... and runs towards the Pale Angel, laughing maniacally... "This is Kaine's Brilliant Fire Knife!"

"It can cut your soulsteel!"

It has to!

But it goes to the Pale Angel, striking at her breast, to her heart... and for a moment, he feels like he is melting her armor.

And then, it melts back and he is pushed away. One can always imagine a face just appeared on the soulsteel, sneering.

Jalek: Mariana, the barmaid, screams about the inn being burning.

At deSiri's request, Jalek, his bodyguard of ant-like visage uses his chitinous armor advantage to walk to the tapestries, smothering the flames left by Kaine... after all, he did his duty. And he would steer clear of it - he was sure his armor, unlike the Pale Angel's soulsteel, could not withstand this firedust.

Vorpal: Again she merely watches him come, hands on her hips. The dagger clangs against the armor. Fire and soulteel vie for supremacy, and then the hot blade skitters along the rounded shape of her breast as the latter proves victorious once again.

Vorpal tilts her head slightly backwards at the sensation. It seems to be... pleasurable to her, even to the point where she responds to it with a tiny, throaty purr.

"Very brilliant", she states, and responds with an open-handed uppercut aimed carelessly somewhere in Ki-Kai-Kaine's direction.

Ki-Kai-Kaine: As the uppercut comes, Kaine tries to place his knife in front of the punch, brilliant fire blowing out with a sprinkle of Firedust to throw her strike away in smoke and the clang of blade against gauntlet....

... it strikes against Ki-Kai-Kaine's chin... and his eyes twirling.... he takes a couple steps back...

...and falls back all over the Dark Angel's breakfast!

Vorpal: Her open hand still in air, fingers slightly curled, Vorpal watches the man fall with a somewhat disheartened expression. "Oops."

Selina de Windia: Selina is taking a bite of bacon to her mouth when the idiot who attacked the Pale Angel falls onto her table, destroying most of her breakfast. A flash of pent up anger, white hot, outshining the sun itself in her mind's eye and not sure at where to direct itself, surges through the Dark Angel.

And the Dragon rises, up to the surface, roaring in freed delight as it does, without Selina's permission. Her features visibly age, her beauty lessens, her body becomes steel and adamant. The cloak of lust is not about her now, so it cannot balance the change. Hair just as starkly white as the Pale Angel's now falls to the floor, and still Selina sits at the table, not getting up. Not making much of a sound, though for that moment it seems as if she's eaten all sound in the room, by her very presence.

A clawed hand reaches out, grabs hold of Ki-Kai-Kaine, and flings him singlehandedly back at Vorpal without even looking at her.

Vorpal: Vorpal lowers her hand in front of her, palm outwards, as if gesturing for Ki-Kai-Kaine to stop his flight. He doesn't, of course - at least not until his hurtling form meets her hand.

Her face perfectly straight, Vorpal lowers her hand in front of her, palm outwards, as if gesturing for Ki-Kai-Kaine to stop his flight. He doesn't, of course - at least not until his hurtling form meets her immovable hand.

deSiri: Clap clap clap

The Captain claps as he walks towards the Pale Angel, a smile as he watches Kaine's unconscious forms on her hand. "I have to thank you. This is one person who would like my head less walking free on Creation. Such a waste of Firedust..." He shakes his head. "So hard to import, so expensive, and he spends it on his stunts."

"Of course, I should only half thank you. He was after me, but that he decided to blow me up in front of everyone is your fault, you realise." He nods "Of course, I have to wonder what his sublety would have been like."

Jalek eats one of the Melon Pans still on their table, then. It burns inside him, and he spits fire for a moment before sitting down, caressing his belly as if he had a horrible, horrible nausea. deSiri looks at it and nods. "Ah. Yes. Like that."

Vorpal: "Actually", Vorpal responds with a flat tone, "My motive was selfish. I ached to hurt someone, and he happend to come along at the right moment. Saving you was just a bonus."

Glancing at the bruised man held aloft in her hand, the Pale Angel growls. "He should have lasted longer. More flair than real power. Damn, the world is full of waste."

She tosses him over her shoulder without another thought and strides back to the table she shares with deSiri. "Drink some water and tell me why he wanted your head in any case."

deSiri: "Of course. Mariana, dear, get me a nice new basket of the same. But pick them yourself, and be sure they are not tampered with." He nods, sitting with her. "Us both, really. Me, because I chased the Firebrands out of here for smuggling of Firedust, as well as raiding our own, few caravans of it and trying to sell us our own. They are not happy they got stolen back by us, and kicked out of Amber Post, becoming trading pariahs around here."

He winces as Kaine finally lands, across the breakfast room, through the window, and into some metal utensils out there. The clangs, crashes and whimpers made even the hardened captain wince. "I will be sure to lock him away for good now." He says with a gesture, and a recovering Jalek goes pick up the poor sod. "But... they would never act so openly if not for... well. The bounty on your snow-white head."

Vorpal: Vorpal's mien does not change as she picks her chair back up against and sits down. One of her eyebrows rises ever so slightly at the mention of one word, however. "Bounty?"

deSiri: "Oh yes. A certain Prophet came by a little while back, and placed a bounty. It includes your head, a few others, and the Dark Angel there and a certain Windwraith alive and in chains. The bounty for even one of you all is... inominable. The stuff of dreams. Thus making them so bold as to strike out in the open." He smiles dangerously at her. "See the people who left? It is not just for the fight - that was the First Arrow, Pale Angel. To mark the start of a battle. Some very good people will be decided in not letting you walk out of Amber Post alive."

Selina de Windia: Selina stares at the shattered remnents of her breakfast. So mixed together she can't eat it anymore. Shards of glass in it too. Fury rises in her.

Who did this?

The Pale Angel.

Well, not just her, but she tossed that witless fool her way, and then the bastard dropped himself onto her table. So she gets up, the chair moving back behind her, turns toward the Pale Angel's table with naked fury in her eyes, and stops there. Not looking at either of them.

And then she scoops up the food she wants, and marches back to her table, turning it so the clean side is toward her. Without a single word or growl.

Vorpal: "Looks like we will be striding over many dead bodies when we leave Amber Post, then", Vorpal replies with a little, dismissive shrug. The entire matter with the Dark Angel seems to simply pass her by. "Like I said. The world is full of waste. But..." She pauses, then tilts her head. "Hypothetically speaking, assuming that a headhunter would want to collect the bounty left by this Prophet, where could they find him?"

deSiri: He grins. A very mean grin. "Oh, I sure do hope so."

He leans back on the seat, still grinning. "I have a fortune bet on you. And the odds are... fifty to one, if I recall."

"Oh, the Prophet said he would know, and pass by here when the bounty was taken. I figure he has spies here somewhere." He waves his hand dismissively, "If you wanted to surprise him, then you would have to... appear to be dead."

Vorpal: Fifty to one? How insulting.

Sighing and leaning her cheek against her hand, Vorpal allows, for the first time, for her gaze to stray over to the Dark Angel.

"...a death could be arranged, sooner or later..."

She seems to daydream for a moment. Then her mien suddenly tightens, eyebrows drawing together, and she turns firmly back to deSiri. "Enough. This isn't what I wished to talk with you about. Let us change the topic."

deSiri: He nearly giggles with her allusion, then straightens himself, coming foward, elbows on the table "Yes? What is it you wanted to talk about, then?"

Vorpal: "I need mercenaries", Vorpal responds simply, leaning her elbows against the table much the way deSiri does and resting her chin against the backs of her hands. "Good warriors who need money and winter quarters. Shall I take it the market is not exactly opportune for hiring right now?"

deSiri: "Not very good. The Bull hired most of those without a problem with Anathema, Vaarsenites are hiring everyone they can to increase their defenses if your problem spills out, and, well..." He sighs, "Everyone else is trying to make the big bucks by having your head and your friend's in chains."

Vorpal: "Figures", Vorpal states, not particularly surprised. "So the only warriors available are the likes of that Kaine fellow, the boisterous ones who want our heads?" Sighing, she closes her eyes and leans back, throwing one arm over the backrest of her chair and allowing her other hand to drop onto the table. "It is a little difficult to hire warriors when the souls you'd like to purchase are out there to get your head, don't you think? The Prophet definitely did not make it easy for us, that much is for certain... Hm."

She pauses. Her white fingers begin to drum the tabletop, idly.

"Hm."

Abruptly, the drumming ceases.

"On the other hand..." Vorpal opens her eyes into tiny slits, her red pupils glimmering with something inscrutable. "Tell me, Captain, perhaps you would be able to spread some rumors for us?"

deSiri: Mariana brings a little more of the new, proof-tested food - especially to replace the ones that the Dark Angel took away - and deSiri smacks her behind as she goes with a yelp, taking one of the melon pans. Eastern specialties... and grinning. "Pretty much. Everyone who would work for money, wants the big money on your head."

He takes his time munching on it, then shifts it on his hand... curious. "Rumors? What kind...?"

Vorpal: Vorpal lets out a low chuckle at that. Her amusement turns into a growl, however, and she twists her chair to look over her shoulder at where the Dark Angel is sitting. "We should call the harlot over here first. I want to explain this only once." She raises her voice slightly, her tone calm and lazy - carefully devoid of any hint of resentment or hatred in public: "Oi, Aine. Come eat with us."

Selina de Windia: Normally, Selina can deal with insults from the Pale Angel. Afterall, she has for a long long time now. But, unfortunately, she is not nearly as temperate this morning as usual. She comes, pushing away from the table -- the empty table, she has eaten all she took from Vorpal and deSiri's already -- and moves up to them. Kinda. The Dragon is no longer extant on her features, Selina seems to have submerged it already. Forced it down, at some point, while she was eating. Maybe consuming food sated it somewhat.

But she has a look on her face that can only be described as the glee of a butcher before the bloody work begins. She giggles, almost insanely, as she grabs Vorpal's hair and lifts it, almost pulling her off the chair. "Did I hear a disrespectful call for my presence, you barren whore?" Her voice is soft, growly, and utterly eager.

Vorpal: Looking up at the Dark Angel from under glowering brows, Vorpal reaches up with both hands. With one she takes a hold of her own hair, preventing Selina from pulling it any further, while the fingers of her remaining hand curl around the bountiful cascades of the Dark Angel's own hair.

Without another word, she yanks - one hand ripping her own hair free from Selina's grasp, the other sending the Dark Angel's head hurtling down towards the table. The power behind her move is surprising, impossible, bone-crushing - but it is Selina's own fault. Apparently the Dark Angel hadn't realized the essence that gave the Pale Angel her herculean strength is still coursing through Vorpal's veins.

"Sit. Down. "

deSiri: "Did this Prophet also know you two are ready to do the job for him at all times?"

The captain sighs, shaking his head at the spetacle.

Selina de Windia: Selina is surprised by that, and her head does slam down on the table, but she simply twists around like a snake, hugging herself nearly to the other Abyssal, one hand holding Vorpal's free hand with enough force to prevent her from using it with anything too quickly, the other held to the woman's stomach, a pulse of black energy glowing before its palm. One Selina can let loose more quickly than Vorpal could draw and parry, or use her either hand to snatch something else and do the same. Selina voice is gleeful malevolence, soft and teasing like the shadows she'd worn on herself that one night. "Did I hear a disrespectful call for my presence? "

????: And then, a big red figure crashes through the south wall, a giant blue figure with large teeth, clad entirely in red. "Look what we have heere!" The figure calls, waving a blade of some shining, jagged rock. "The Angels locked in a warm embrace? Well, better for me, Brilliant Crimson Sunset!"

And as the figure calls this, he jumps at them, blade in hand to decapitate the Pale Angel...

Vorpal: When a warrior's life is threatened, she must not blink, she must not pause, she must not hesitate. She must act, for that is the surest way to keep her life safe from harm.

Whatever else can be said about Vorpal deFay, it has to be admitted that she is a warrior by heart. She counters to the threat immediately - she does not wrench the Dark Angel's hand away nor does she draw her blade, but twists in her chair instead. Carrying Selina along with the move, she turns away from the incoming blow, maneuvering the Betrayer on her back so that the broad black blade is interposed between them and the incoming blow.

Selina de Windia: A feud between them is one thing. But when someone decides to interrupt that, that is a grave matter. Selina would eat the man, but right now she's not in a position to. Letting go of the Pale Angel's hand, she drops to the floor and pushes herself ungracefully toward the attacker with a single spring of her legs. Nearly under him, she releases the blast of energy, shorter lived and weaker, but probably enough to kill him. And not keep going...through the inn.

????: It hits the Fae right in the middle of his chest, exploding in shadows, sending him through the room and out of the same wall he broke through....

Vorpal: Behind Selina's back comes a scrape of soulsteel against its harness. Her gaze dark, her mouth a tight line, Vorpal draws her sword free. Her head is still hurting a little from the place where Selina yanked at her hair, and for a moment, she definitely considers about using the sword. She does not raise the blade, however, nor does she stand up from her chair.

"My thanks", she says curtly after a moment of glowering and lays the heavy blade across her lap. "Now please come sit down."

Selina de Windia: Selina throws a glare around the room, showing just what she thinks of people who interrupt her business, then 'hmfs' and moves back to the table, pulling a chair out and plopping down in it.

Narrator: The room was mostly empty. Now, it truly is empty aside from the Angels.

Vorpal: "Thank you", Vorpal says, evenly.

deSiri: The captain lights a cigarette on the void burning on the tip of the table before smothering it, then looks at the Pale Angel. "For a pair that keeps fighting like that, you were remarkably effective right now..."

Selina de Windia: "Me against my brother. My brother and I against our uncle. My uncle and I against outsiders." Selina says simply, repeating an old saying that she heard floating around in various forms.

Vorpal: "We've had a lot of practice", Vorpal responds, nodding in agreement. "Both on effectiveness and fighting."

deSiri: "I can see that. When this is done, I can probably book you to jobs that will give your weight in Jade, you know."

Selina de Windia: "Already have one." Selina says ruefully. "And after it's done, I might take a little vacation from the business."

deSiri: "Oh. It must be worth the trouble of everyone wanting you killed, I hope." He lets out the smoke, before turning to the Pale Angel, his hand searching the basket for something else... "So, Pale Angel... you wanted to tell us an idea?"

Vorpal: "Aye." Vorpal throws a glance at the Dark Angel from the corner of her eyes, then continues. "Down to the business. Hopefully, there won't be any distractions for a while."

"Since the only swords available for hire are the ones who are currently trying to kill us, we will make do with what we have. I don't want to spend every day for the next few weeks waiting for a new challenger every few hours or so. Therefore, we will gather them up and take care of the problem with one sweep. Captain, I want you to spread some rumors across the Amber Post that the Pale and the Dark Angels are flattered by the attention these bounty hunters are giving us. We wish to give them a chance to truly show their prowess for all to see, and so, we will be holding a tournament in their honor."

Selina de Windia: "...what?"

deSiri: He is frozen. The only way to show that he is still alive is the smoke coming slowly from his mouth.

"... I beg you pardon?"

Selina de Windia: Selina shakes her head then shrugs. "For the maximum effect, I reccomend we also walk around in lingerie, to make sure we get them all to come."

deSiri: "And you are saying you don't?"

Selina de Windia: "This is not lingerie." Selina says firmly, perfectly sure of her assertion. "This is a light sturdy garment made for ease of movement and catching the eye. Lingerie is delicate and not for wearing when you fight people."

"Yeah, be a man about it." Selina says, moving over to them both. "Besides, we won't be gone that long."

Vorpal: "Say what you say, deSiri, you are thrilled by the thought, aren't you?" Vorpal nods, unfazed and deadly serious. "Each will be given a chance to defeat either the Pale or the Dark Angel in single combat. Should any of the hunters win, she will receive, ah, I don't know, a prize of 20 jade talents on top of the reward promised by the Prophet. Not to mention the glory of being the bounty hunter to have taken two of the most infamous heads in all North."

The Pale Angel reaches for her glass and takes a little sip. After giving the others a few moments to digest this part of her plan, she goes on: "Should the Angel win the battle and should the hunter still be alive, we might be impressed enough by her ability to demand her services for a little task. It would be a very good job: decent pay, winter quarters, a ready access to high-quality brothel district and a simple garrison duty to take care of. All this in return for a simple oath of loyalty, of course."

deSiri: "It looks like lingerie, what can I say. Shows as much, so it is just as effective for that."

He nods. "Well, that... can work.... of course, many of those who are not good at direct combat will keep trying to murder you anyway. I suggest hiring a food-taster while you remain around. And sleep with both eyes open."

Vorpal: Vorpal chuckles at that and leans her chin against the palm of her hand once again, her mien smug and her eyes thin, like those of a cat. "With any luck, the sneaky assassins will kill each other as they scramble to make sure they are the ones who can claim the credit for the murder. Besides, I have the best of assassins on my side right here."

No matter how much of a traitorous bitch she is.

Vorpal quells the sudden pang of bitterness.

"We'll be fine."

Selina de Windia: "Real lingerie is much...um, hard to say what it is, but this isn't it." Selina says with a shrug.

"Silly Pale Angel, you don't need me at your side."

Vorpal: "Take the praise as it is."

You slut, she finishes, silently.

deSiri: "Well, then... let us do it like this." He says, getting up. "I will go to Amber Post itself now, and get one of our witches to spread the word. It will be grand and set up the tournament. The Guild will love it, especially with an entrance fee. And the bets. And the costing for the seats." He nods once again. "It will be grand. I will see you there."

"Like I said, when the bomb was thrown, hunting season was on."

"I believe just getting there will be hard enough, soo.... wait a litle after I go. And I will meet you there!"

"And then... the show will be up!"

Selina de Windia: "You don't." She says with a shrug, airily looking away.

deSiri: The captain begins to walk away then, calling Jalek, and waving them farewell. "All will be set when you get there, Lilith!"

"... assuming you do, of course..."

And with that, he is out.

Vorpal: "Now, wasn't that a bit insulting", Vorpal mumbles, staring at the now-empty doorway. "Assuming we do... Who does he think we are anyway?"

Selina de Windia: "I dunno, why do you think he wouldn't show up?" Selina asks with a shrug, then snickers. "I know you're calling me names in your head, by the way. I can tell by your red-demon-gaze." She finishes with something of an affectionate tone.

????: Who does he think we are, anyway?

"Fish." A voice answered from on high seconds before a pair of green egg-shaped containers crash into their table top. Thick green mist oozes out of the broken shells and spreads through the air. Above them, a face peered down through a hole blasted through the roof by Vorpal's earlier fight. Dark skin, dark hair, glistening in an unnatural way. He smiled, polietly, as he dropped yet another gas-bomb into the room where it shattered apart between Selina's feet. "Ones, rather specifically, in a barrel."

Selina de Windia: "Pot calling kettle, bitch. Guess what, you're black too." Selina doesn't give a damn, for once. Perhaps it's the mood she's in, perhaps it's just the fact that when you're constantly under attack by people, you don't really get afraid of much, being already in a sort of fight or flight mode.

"My idol says such sweet things to me, and she has ever since we met. I should've killed your little prince in front of you, then cut your throat after fucking you with that ridiculous sword. Forgive me for trying any different." She replies happily, then moves out of the inn, hidden knife flashing out, arcing into the forehead of someone who was waiting, stabbing down with a flicker of abyssal power, then moving back into her hand, almost unseen. Selina walks down the road, yawning. Feeling dead and cold inside.

Well, who said it couldn't be like Nexus? After all, she'd felt cold and dead there too. Thankfully there are plenty of people overeager to die right now.

And I'm sure we'll kill quite a few before the rest join our side.

Vorpal: The Pale Angel drops any and all pretense of tolerance at that. Her eyes flaring, her face twisting into a terrible visage of a furious ghost queen, she turns over to the Dark Angel. "Then keep your mouth shut and concentrate on the job, you uppity little bitch!" Even as she speaks, her hand flies to the sword in her lap. The long blade screeches against the floor, drawing a long and wicked streak there as the Pale Angel leaps to her feet. "I'll fight you soon enough if you really want to. I'll fight you to your heart's content, to the death if I'll have to, but for now, you are going to keep your filthy tongue in check and concentrate on getting the work done!" The last word rises to a wordless shriek, and the sword held high, the Pale Angel rushes forward towards the next assassin...

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