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| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/SixthMovement|Sixth Movement]]
| + | #REDIRECT [[ADanceOfAngels]] |
| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/DanceOfAngels|A Dance of Angels]]
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| − | == Enter the Blood Angel! ==
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| − | ''The Kingdom of Whiteshield... ''<br>
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| − | A scant few miles from the Ivory Capital, from atop the ''Bridal Veil'' a great hill named for the long waterfall on it, two figures that should be dead watch its fate. Under their gaze, they see the broken, silent remains of the countryside. Anything close to Whiteshield itself wasn't even alive, the ground itself charred, no... ''people'' in sight. On the walls of the Ivory Capital, a great Golden Suit of Armor - Azar, the Blade of Hope. It lies broken, pinned to the wall, a symbol of the dead's supremacy.
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| − | Within, one of those dead people - Elizabeth Holysword, the supposed heir to the throne of Whiteshield before a goodwill gesture to marry their firstborn with a heir of the Great Forks - can see, with her aquiline eyesight how even the waters of fonts and waterways run red. She knows the symbols of necromantic workshops. They were using her people as raw material.
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| − | A serpent made of limbs patrols an area far beneath them, one of the many signs of where the people itself have gone. There are ghosts and the dead, of course. Quite a bit of them. And certainly people. Just inside the city, not where she can see them.... it is not like they need people on the field. The dead can see with Raitons, the dead need no food.
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| − | A ghostly falcon returns to the hand of the second person, The Lion Veiled in Moon's Shadow - usually known as the Shadow Lion - Or Lioness, when he felt like - a tall man with the aquamarine hair of the west, and eyes that seemed the purest green jade. A slight flourish, and a little winged ghostly cat came to land on his arm, whispering secrets in a language only the two knew.
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| − | Far away, the Lunar could see vague figures moving in the capital. Whiteshield was a place of great artisans... one had to wonder how many would be with the enemy. Or if their ghosts would. A pillar of shadowy energy emerges. They are quite busy..
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| − | The Lion finishes hearing his little kitten, then turns to the princess. "I told you it was like this, didn't I? They were quite... throughouly with things. Ten Deathknights plus the best in their vanguards descended all at once, I hear."
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| − | '''Elizabeth Holysword: ''' Elizabeth swallows nervously as she examines the befouled countryside... ''her'' countryside... "T-- this is... horrible..." She knows the city, yet she does not. She knows these fields, but covered in green and amber-- or even the stark whiteness of snow... but not this.
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| − | A thought crosses the young princess' mind for a moment, that as she has defiled her body with dark power, so has her kingdom fallen... but she doesn't mention this to her companion. He would not understand, or if he did, he would laugh, and she couldn't bear that, not with this scene in front of her.
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| − | "The king...? What of my father, of Ainerach? My family... Cedric, Carina and Alex?" She hardly dares hope. "They... escaped?"
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| − | '''Shadow Lion: ''' "Your father is dead." He moves his hand, as if to hold her arm... but then stops. She was a princess, and had to deal with it by herself. "So is your mother. I am told the prince - that is Alexander - managed to burn their bodies, as with most everyone in the castle. Seems like it made for quite a setback... see, when they struck, a Solar named Fiona - they were sheltering her, apparently - saved the two princes. Alexander Exalted, took Ainerach, burnt the bodies of all the dead, and ran."
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| − | "From... there things get a little tricky, Liz. You will not like to hear this..."
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| − | '''Elizabeth Holysword: ''' Elizabeth's breath catches as she hears her parents are dead. There were a lot of things they didn't agree on... A '''''lot''''' of things... But this was too cruel. That Alex Exalted... she is proud. She needn't ask what he exalted as, she knew her brother... But the others... he hadn't said anything about Cedric or Carina. Bracing herself inwardly, she turns to him. "...tell me."
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| − | '''Shadow Lion: ''' He takes a few steps back, sitting on one of the stones, looking down... clouds were beggining to gather again, a diffuse white abyss beneath them, the window they used to spy on Whiteshield vanishing... "The Lover took a special interest. After this Fiona stood her ground to cover for his escape, Alexander was found running away by two of her Deathknights - the Pale and Dark Angels. You might have heard of the Pale Angel, the Dark Angel is Selina de Windia, the one who caused the scandal in Winlandia and the fall of house De Windia a few years back. They took Alexander - and Cedric, who was comatose - and took with them. That is how I know all of this, I have friends in the Lover's abode." He smiles confidently, and would wink, but this... was just not the situation.
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| − | "So, see... Carina. She was captured by the Bishop's forces. She was submitted to quite a bit of humilliation from what I hear. Not quite your style, of course, she is still alive, after all. It seems excellence smiles on the people from your family... or pehaps it is just fate. But she accepted Abyssal Exaltation. She is one of the Lover's champions now." He sighs, "At least she is alive. And with a great power. If you could sway her from the Lover, it would be grand... I am sure you don't want to imagine your sister with that whore."
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| − | '''Elizabeth Holysword: ''' Elizabeth's eyes narrow, and she grits her teeth. Carina, little Carina... And Alex, taken as well. "No... I-- I won't let them have them... None of them..." Her eyes sweep across the countryside once more, trying to imagine it how it used to be, what it would take to make it such again... She wasn't sure she could do it, not alone... and turning Carina back may be harder still. "But to bring one back from exaltation-- I am no Deathlord. I'm not even a sorceress, not in any way that matters. You said the Lover has Alex... He has not been... turned?"
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| − | '''Shadow Lion: ''' "He has not. He is apparently walking around with the Deathknights, he hid Cedric away - did I mentioned he was not waking up? - and begun to fight back. They are attracting new people to them left and right on this effort. Either it is the boy holding Ainerach or the Pale Angel, but Hanslanti's rogue, the Windwraith, has thrown his lot there, and some others as well... things are looking up. Kind of." He looks at the clouds again, and sends his cat to sweep them out of the way, once again...
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| − | "Liz... he has not gone to Red Ice. He has been urging the Deathknights to fight back, and getting allies. But this is what I hear. If you want my opinion... a young boy with nobody to turn on with two Deathknights of the Lover? The Angels? He must be twisted around their little finger right now, doing all they wish, even if he does not realise it."
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| − | "I... would not warm hopes of meeting him much like the person you knew. Even if he thinks he still is."
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| − | '''Elizabeth Holysword: ''' "Y--yes... You did mention Cedric." She sighs, covering her face with one hand for a moment as she thinks. "Perhaps he's the luckiest of us all, to not have to see this." The situation was bleak, and she couldn't help but think it was her fault. A few months! She'd been gone only that long, this time, and everything she held dear was on its way to hell in a handbasket.
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| − | "Yes, I can imagine what these Deathknights of the Lover must be like to a boy his age, new to power-- I'm sure he thinks... well, it doesn't matter what he thinks, it can't be as bad as Carina..." She says it, but she hardly believes her own words. Alex was strong in his own way... Elizabeth might have to best Necromancy of the highest order to get Carina and Cedric back... but for Alex... it would be his own will that was her enemy, and she wasn't sure she could break it, or if there would be anything left if-- no, when-- she did.
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| − | "Yet these deathknights of the Lover, that Selina... if they're pretending to fight for my kingdom-- rather, they're fighting against the bishop, they may yet be useful. Even if not, I must see Alex, what I can do for him... Leaving Carina to the Bishop for now... hurts... but if there's hope for Alex, there may not be for long. Tell me, where is he? I.. I don't expect your help in this, but I must do it."
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| − | '''Shadow Lion: ''' He rises to his feet, dusting any part of the wet folliage covering the stone from his coat, then begun to walk away, hands in the pockets, "Let us walk a little bit. I am not comfortable with standing around so close to the fanatic's seat of power." And indeed, there was the chant. The chant coming from the city, so soft in the winds, even so far up... "As for your little brother... no idea. outdated info I got from friends with the Lover a little while back. I know he is with the Windwraith, together with the Angels, but... that is about it, honestly."
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| − | He turns around, flashing her a smile, "Hey, I can help you look... for the debt, if nothing else!"
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| − | "I... can't get involved directly, though; I'm sure you understand..."
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| − | '''Elizabeth Holysword: ''' Elizabeth hesitates before turning from their vantage point. Fanatic's seat of power it may be, but it was her home. The ground crunches under her boot as she follows him, and the sound reminds her of what they were likely doing with the bodieis of her people back in the city. "I'll look for this Windwraith then, ask around... it has to be hard to hide a ship like that... If people are gathering to fight , they can't be hard to find...". She casts her eyes downward, for a moment, thinking. "I... I appreciate what you've done by bringing me here, Shadow Lion, but I don't think I can ask for any more of your help in this. I understand you can't get involved" She doesn't say what she's thinking, that she really can't afford to owe anyone any debts, not with things as they are. She gives a smirk-- but it is humorless "By all rights, it makes sense for you-- for Mask of Winters-- to just watch these Deathlords fight it out, but I can't do that."
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| − | '''Shadow Lion: ''' He smirks back at her - he has no such compunctions. "Pretty much. I was willing to lend a friend a helping hand, of course...." He gives small jumps as he descends, agile as a feline, stepping over a few stones down the uneven path... "Any clue where you are starting, at least?"
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| − | '''Elizabeth Holysword: ''' Elizabeth follows after the Abyssal, descending with as much fluid grace as he had. He was, after all, her mentor "Do you know what has become of the Almas, Spire and the Boil? If they've fallen as well..." she shakes her head... "...there may be gods or ghosts I can ask..." she suggests, but doesn't sound too sure.
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| − | '''Shadow Lion: ''' "Oh, they are mostly fine. See, they needed the Port. So no burning Almas. They are using the Boil as resources. And Spire, as a bridge to Windia. Of course... they did break the spirit of those places. They did execute many, and made sure all noticed how them not playing Whiteshield with them is a blessing. But the cities are mostly there, mostly standing! Maybe their gods can help you, there. You know... if they are still around."
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| − | "They ''did'' kill Amaranthyne, after all..."
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| − | And then he stops. He stops, and begins to look around...
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| − | '''Elizabeth Holysword: ''' "Amaranthyne..." Elizabeth furrows her brow in thought, Alma might have information... but her brother wasn't likely there. Between the Spire and the Boil, well, she'd obviously rather see to the Spire first. She was about to say as much, when Lion stops, and she falls into familiar patterns of mentor and student, eyes darting about in quick, analytical patterns, trying to find whatever it is that has set him on edge. "What? What is it?"
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| − | '''Shadow Lion: ''' He looks at somewhere... nowhere... facing the distance... then closes his eyes, smiling. "Too late, far, far too late." He sighs. And then, Elizabeth can see them appearing.... creatures hunched, dark, with claws and teeth and eyes of ghost-flame. Surrounding them....
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| − | The Shadow Lion turns to her, "You see them?"
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| − | '''????: ''' They were... strange. Something in them screamed of Wyld, even though they were like the dead. Something like Goblins...
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| − | '''Elizabeth Holysword: ''' Elizabeth's bright amethyst eyes narrow as the... things... resolve into shapes she can recognize-- and recognize as unnatural "Of course I see them. I've no fucking clue what they are, but I'm not blind!"
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| − | Slowly, carefully, her fingers curl into a grip, and the blood on her tell drips down the invisible blade. Her sword aches, she wants to kill these things, they were unnatural.
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| − | '''????: ''' They take a few steps foward. Five of them. "Kekekeke.... Holysword, yes? Shiny, yes?"
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| − | "Surrounded, yes? Outnumbered, yes? Come with us, yes?"
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| − | '''Elizabeth Holysword: ''' Elizabeth's muscles ripple in the dappled sunlight, sparkling silver as she grips the sanguine barb-- her sword grace-- and smiles. "Outnumbered? Why yes, yes you are. In light of that..." a quick flip switches the blood-lined blade to her left hand, and a second flick lays open her right palm, "...a handicap."
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| − | '''????: ''' "What that? Try not to trick us, yes? We be mean, yes? We killed your type before, yes? We know tricks, yes?" They move closer, in their strange, swirling ways, their claws glinting like ghost-flame...
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| − | '''Shadow Lion: ''' "Liz..." He looks away,
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| − | "You know I should not join in. That that would create a greater diplomatic problem for the Mask, the sort of thing I am supposed to ''mend'', right?"
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| − | '''Elizabeth Holysword: ''' Elizabeth doesn't look at him, but nods. "Yeah, one-on-five, seems about right, eh? Don't worry about it, I'm immortal.". With that, a great lance of gnarled wood errupts from the spot of blood on the ground before Elizabeth in a shower of leaves. As the wood rises, rivulets of blood trace patterns in the haft, blackening, hardening it. With a swift motion, Elizabeth snatches the weapon out of the air, knocking up a cloud of charcoal and spreading the scent throughtout the small forest path. In her hands, the weapon's surface cracks and splits, revealing a core of burning embers.
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| − | She names it Embers In Twilight, and when the shower of leaves clears-- no few of them smouldering from the weapon's heat-- Elizabeth appears in her Ascension form-- the Blood Angel, with eyes of rivem and shattered ruby and a great sexten of blood spattered wings.
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| − | '''Shade Goblins: ''' "It is... it is Exalted! Exalted, yes? Monster, yes? We be more monsters, yes? We get glory, yes! We kill, yes!!!" The leader calls... and they fall on her, four of them, the claws of ghost-flame dashing through the air towards her, leaving trails of blue-green flame on the way....
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| − | '''Elizabeth Holysword: ''' Elizabeth wrinkles her nose at the green flame trailing the things; claws as they converge on her, she ''supposed'' it wouldn't do to be lazy if she didn't know what they were. As the first arrives, Elizabeth flips over it into the air, twisting and wrenching as each attack nears her, landing away from the group with a natural grace of one born to fly. As she lands, the twisting, burning essence about her resolves into a great, silver bird.
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| − | Elizabeth's flip is perfect, the consecutive twists... only almost perfect. One of the creatures's claws had reached her, rinding the furs she wears and gouging her tender pale flesh, spilling moonlight into the air. But even before she'd landed, there was no wound to see. It was as she told Lion, it seems to all eyes, that she is in fact immortal.
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| − | '''Shadow Lion: ''' He seems ready to act... but then, decides not to. He just watches. "Immortal indeed..."
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| − | '''Elizabeth Holysword: ''' Elizabeth is actually glad she didn't get away cleanly. Now she knew the measure of their attacks-- they couldn't hurt her... much. Spinning in place to face the creatures, Elizabeth lets out a quiet breath and calms herself, breathing in the charcoal-scent of her weapon-- it is the smell of burnt houses, scorched fields, and crushed dreams-- it fits her mood perfectly.
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| − | Before the leaves have settled from her flip, she is beside the creatures once more, Glowing hot, Embers In Twlight pierces two of the creatures in one strike, the burning embers it is named for trailing in it's wake.
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| − | '''Shade Goblins: ''' One of them is made into little more than a puddle of blood, ghost-flame exploding and fading around Elizabeth...
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| − | And the other one is sent through two trees, falling hurt and nearly dead on the rests of trees....
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| − | Three are left. "Kill! Kill! Kill her, yes? KILL HER!" They join their claws... and as one, jump, the trails after their claws making the countours of a flower of three petals in three directions around the Holysword heir...
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| − | '''Elizabeth Holysword: ''' The charcoal scent of Embers in Twilight turns foul for a moment. Blood, death, pain, even of these bizzare mutants, was food for it. Embers in Twilight burns brighter as its inner fires consume blood, essence, and emotion.
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| − | Her momentum spent, her essence committed, the necrotic goblins bear down on Elizabeth, and she is unconcerned. Green fire rends silver flesh, but Elizabeth's vacant ruby eyes are blithe, unfocused. Everywhere Elizabeth is struck, clear white moonlight escapes, and there is no wound, all save one, that is. One wound spills blood, staining the furs she wears, but still, still she is untroubled. When Elizabeth says she is immortal, it is not a casual claim.
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| − | Almost as soon as the goblin's claw is free of her skin, the wound slides shut from one end to the other, and there is no evidence it was ever there, save the blood on her silver-white skin. Blinking, Elizabeth touches the site of the wound with a finger, and tastes the blood. "You hurt me, you actually did it! But watch--" she says, leveling Embers in Twilight out at arms length. "--this is how you hurt someone!"
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| − | Elizabeth does not move, she doesn't need to, her enemies have come to her, this time. Elizabeth does not think, it is is only reflex. She strikes three times in a single instant and with each strike Embers in Twilight blazes with such power it leaves blazing afterimages in Lion's vision-- to say nothing of the goblins.
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| − | '''Shade Goblins: ''' They fall... and fall on the spears.... on the last moment, trying to stop it with their claws... their arms blossoming into aegis of flames...
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| − | '''Shadow Lion: ''' And Lion watches the blazing afterimages... and that is the last he watches of two of the goblins, unmade in fine green flame.
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| − | One is still alive, though, howling...<br>
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| − | The Moonshadow moves.<br>
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| − | An axe of shadows appears on his hand.
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| − | In one swift movement, it is thrown, and cleaves the one still alive in half.
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| − | He smiles at the princess, and claps profusely. "Bravo!"
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| − | And Lion watches the blazing afterimages... and that is the last he watches of two of the goblins, unmade in fine green flame.
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| − | One is still alive, though, howling...
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| − | He smiles at the princess anyway, and claps profusely. "Bravo!"
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| − | '''Elizabeth Holysword: ''' There is a pause-- a tiny, miniscule pause, small enough that it might not have been there at all, and a final, searing flash as Elizabeth places Embers in Twilight through the last Goblin's chest from behind. The blazing ember erupts out of his chest, and both goblin and spear crumble at once into a fine, blackened Ash. By the time Lion can see again, Elizabeth has shed her Ascension form, and she is the Blood Angel no longer-- simply the shining adolescent beauty, Elizabteh Holysword.
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| − | "Augh, that was horrible!" She says. "What a fucking waste of essence!"
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| − | '''Shadow Lion: ''' "It was grand, my dear." He smiles, hands once again on his pockets, "A pity for a weapon that died before you could name it, at least. Your aesthetic sense never ceases to surprise me, for one thing! And you are more than ready to handle this, at least..."
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| − | '''Elizabeth Holysword: ''' Elizabeth looks down at the blackened ash on the ground, small motes of fire still glowing faintly. "Embers in Twilight" is all she says, matter-of-factly.
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| − | '''????: ''' Then, something is cut. The trees behind Elizabeth. The air behind her!
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| − | All is sent flying as a grave voice bellows...
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| − | “Who dares to destroy my hounds?!?”
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| − | '''Elizabeth Holysword: ''' Elizabeth blinks. Then she blinks again, and reaches up to pinch the brige of her nose. "Aw fuck..." is all she says, feeling rather foolish for letting her guard down. She'd be making another weapon before the embers of her last were even cool... and letting her anima burn this close to Whiteshield was a... bad idea... to say the least.
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| − | '''Shadow Lion: ''' The Abyssal watches as the trees are sent upwards... falling amidst the splinters of wood... and he watches as as a figure appears in the area left by the trees, walking among them... and his very presence makes it not fall fast, walking amidst splinters of wood and leaves... the unearthly beautiful creature, clad in an armor of shadows and midnight, snow glinting in its crevassses, dots of pure light seeming to burn on it... as it holds the blade that cut the air in front of itself.
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| − | The Abyssal clenched his fists as he watched. "As usual, you always lower your guard too fast, Liz..."
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| − | '''Elizabeth Holysword: ''' "I get it, I get it..." Elizabeth mumbles in response... "You should... uh, probably leave, Lion... Things are going to be getting really noticable here in a second or two..."
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| − | '''Shadow Lion: ''' "Hmmm... I probably should, right?"
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| − | He takes his hands off his pockets, presenting their palms to the air. A noise of rippling skin is heard as they open, mouths appearing on each... well, fangs. Fangs all around eyes. Eyes that glow in the dark as he begins to fade to the shadows behind him.
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| − | "Opening restraints to the mauseleum... locks to coffins of Shadowlands and Labyrinth!"
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| − | His clothing begun to disappear, replaced by the thing he called from his armory-mauselum, while a great dark weapon that felt like Moonsilver, but felt wrong begun to appear on his hand, called from the same... "And I will probably meet some trouble too, at least like this they will not know. Take care, Princess."
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| − | "I do hope you are right about the immortality."
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| − | '''Elizabeth Holysword: ''' "Heh... Well, you know, immortality ain't so hot if they capture you" She winks at him as he fades into the shadows, and turns to face her new opponent.
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| − | "I am Elizabeth Holysword, Queen of Whiteshield, and '''''I''''' have destoryed your so-called 'hounds'." she says defiantly, raising her invisble Sword in an inside grip until it touches the point she bled from earlier, where this thing's 'hounds' had actually wounded her. Like a living thing, the blood runs up Sanguine Barb's blade, glittering essence.
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| − | "''Wound me, will they? They don't know what a wound is. ''"
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| − | Suddenly, the blood on Sanguine Barb glistens wetly, and errupts into a full length sword-- more like a Daiklaive, really-- impaling Elizabeth through the stomach. She grunts at the pain, and smiles a bit, showing her mouth wet with blood from the wound. With a quick, efficient motion, she rips the sword out one side of her torso, swinging it around into a ready position, leaving lines of her blood across the damp forrest path.
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| − | The blade is a Daiklaive, four inches thick, widening to six at the tip, where in flares out in vicious teeth that line both edges of the blade. Crying, moaning faces can be seen in the wet blood-steel as if it were the weapon of a deathknight. In fact, the dark side of Elizabeth's caste mark burns black.
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| − | She doesn't spare any attention for Lion now, save to say one thing out loud. A name.
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| − | "Sanguine Tears"
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| − | As she speaks, Elizabeth's voice is harsh with a hint of malice, and her eyes take on the cast of shattered rubies once more. The Blood Angel has returned.
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| − | '''????: ''' The beautiful creature stops, watching... and a broad smile appears on its face.
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| − | "... this is... simply.... incredible."
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| − | The trees began to fall at the true pace, hitting the ground with thunder. The splinters, however, were still slow on the air. "I did not expect that the one to attack - and destroy - my hounds would be so... so... so..." he looks at her, the flares of ice on his armor becoming greater and greater... "... perfect."
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| − | He points his blade to her, "And this is Kamatari... the blade that slices air!"
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| − | "And I am Ariel, Shaper of Dark Ice, princess. It is a pleasure to meet the one that will rise me to the same rank and glory of a Deathknight."
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| − | '''Elizabeth Holysword: ''' Elizabeth blanches at the thing in front of her... It was Raksha... Probably... maybe... She had some experience with the Fair Folk, but had never met one such as this. Was it corrupted, or did it just shape itself like... that...? It didn't matter.
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| − | "You?" she barks defiantly, "Ranked side by side with a deathknight? The host that has overrun my kingdom can't be so sad! Tell me it isn't so? My father would be turning in whatever ill-suited grave he lies in if it were true!"
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| − | '''Ariel: ''' That got him angry. Flawless features of ice twitched, eyes like burning dark red narrowing.
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| − | "''What'' you say? I am death! I am grace! I am greater than any in the Underworld but the deathknights, girl! If I was in the assault, it would not have taken the Disciple to kill your father, the Vestal and the Parishioner to kill your mother... it would have been just me. But I was busy taking a little princess out of her room with my glamour."
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| − | "A pity she was taken from me before I had any fun."
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| − | '''Elizabeth Holysword: ''' Elizabeth's eyes narrow at the mention of a 'little girl'... Carina, of course. "So it was ''you'' then... I'm glad the first person of this ill-fated army I kill will be the one to blame for my sister's capture-- even if you're so incompetent you can't even get what you're sent after. Should I think you for losing her to the Lover? Surely she's better off with the Lover Clad-- a competent leader at least. How many Deathknights did you attack my family with, yet my brothers and sister are safe from your wretched hands?"
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| − | Standing straighter, Elizabeth fingers her wound. Thin strips of flesh have grown across it, making it look like a great toothless maw. The longer she talked, the better-- not that she thought this thing would last long enough to hurt her... the moment he moved, she intended to make him paste.
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| − | "Actually, it's you who is lucky, for I should have liked to kill you slowly, nail you to the ground with shards of Acheron, and watch them eat your glamour-flesh from the inside. Tell me faerie-thing, how long have you lived? How many have you killed? Does your Sword quiver in fear at my presence?"
| |
| − |
| |
| − | '''Ariel: ''' "''Now'' you understand! But do not misunderstand! If I had been the one to take care of the little princcess, she would now be at my feet, loving me as my slave! But no... she was taken from me little after I stole her. I had to make do with her handmaid, the Summerfall wench." Elizabeth knew her, of course. She was a bastard from house Summerfall, and they used her old name in the palace... and her father came to visit her often. "Whoever handled her later let her skip from their hand - it would not be me. I am too great to be foiled like that."
| |
| − | | |
| − | "I have lived for decades, princess of Whiteshield! I existed on the early days of the Empire, fighting Immaculates, before I ventured into the Underworld... and saw the fun to be had there. The adventures in such a dangerous place, so inimical, with such pliable ghosts that seek emotions - and beauty and life such as mine - like they are addicted to it. And me... I was addicted at stripping even more from them."
| |
| − | | |
| − | "My sword? Come on, little girl. I am an Eshu - I wield a Sword that is feared, an agency of fear, death and power. And you? I can see you are a thing that can do harm... and that is about it. A mere newcomer to our ways."
| |
| − | | |
| − | "You can still kneel. And give me a princess, after all."
| |
| − |
| |
| − | '''Elizabeth Holysword: ''' Elizabeth sniffs at the mention of her sword. In the way of Raksha, perhaps her sword was a thing to be laughed at... but there were more dimensions to her power than that.
| |
| − | | |
| − | She was a thing of the Raksha, yes, gossamer strengthened her muscles and she felt-- if ever so slightly-- as they did. Her sword hungered for blood, small as it was.
| |
| − | | |
| − | She was a thing of death, soulsteel sang in her veins and her essence was ripe with it. She had traveled to Thorns and seen the Necrotic magics that powered the great behemoth there.
| |
| − | | |
| − | But most importanly, she was a child of Luna. She was, to quote her directly, ''"Fucking immortal." '' And it was this thing she was reveling in now.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Haughty, aren't you? But for all your decades, you are a fool." Her stance straightens easily, her breath calm, and she removes her bloody hand from the wound at her stomach, making a show of shaking off coagulated bits of the horrid mess that was there a minute ago. Visible beneath smeared bits of viscera is the healthy silver-ivory glow of Elizabeth's skin, unbroken, unmarred. "Yes, a fool-- You can't kill that which is immortal."
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Ariel: ''' "You... you are... you... whole... you made... you made me..."
| |
| − | | |
| − | Now his anger was complete, and the splinters of wood moved around him like an angry hurricane... as did the snow, rising from the ground, painted black as he was himself.... as he cried... "Nobody makes a fool out of me... I will ''kill'' you!"
| |
| − | | |
| − | And as the storm pressed foward, so did he.
| |
| − |
| |
| − | The storm was all around her. It was splinters and snow, making it hard for her to see... anything. Anything at ''all''. It is just chaotic and cold... all around... and she can barely see him, as he slips into a shadowy, ghastly form... and slices the air around her, three times.
| |
| − | | |
| − | One to her left, and one to her right,<br>
| |
| − | The air cutting on, making it so she cannot dodge.<br>
| |
| − | And one to the center, making it so where she stays, she dies!
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Elizabeth Holysword: ''' Elizabeth is surprised, she will give the Raksha that... As the storm buffets her, it takes everything she has to do what she must. She will do absolutely nothing. His blade arcs through the air magnificently, and she feels her sword shrink in response, but she will do nothing. Martial artists across creation have thousands of ways of dealing with the strikes of a blade, of two blades, of ten, and they all have one single thing in common. Faith. Faith in their Style, faith in their Body, faith in their Path.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Elizabeth has this faith, and she uses it to fuel her willpower, for she-- more than any other Exalt that she knows of, has the faith to do nothing. She will be hurt. His blade will rend her flesh, and she will let it happen. Pain will not make the Blood Angel wither, pain is nothing against her faith.
| |
| − |
| |
| − | The Fae's blade cuts her flesh as Elizabeth knew it would-- in fact, for a moment-- a tiny little moment, her body is split in six pieces and moonlight spills from her body like a torrent. Then, it is undone. There is no other explanation for it-- Luna puts her back together, leaving only fine lines of rent flesh where his blade passed. She stands over him as he recovers from his attack-- in that moment, none can say she is any less than a queen, and this land, everything as far as the eye can see, is her realm. Her eyes of shattered ruby look down on him, and she grins. "I told you..." she says in a grim voice-- a voice of judgement, "...I'm immortal," she takes one simple step to the side, leveling Sanguine Tears to her waist, enunciating as she sweeps the hungry blade like a Scythe."--and you-- are-- PASTE.
| |
| − |
| |
| − | '''Ariel: ''' "You will not move? Then... you will '''die'''!"
| |
| − | | |
| − | He calls, angrily, as his blade, as Kamatari goes with sharp winds, cutting through her...
| |
| − | | |
| − | .... and she did not. She did not die. She was cut, but then whole. He watched in bewilderment.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "... a queen..."
| |
| − | | |
| − | There is a simply a flash of a moment before he cuts the ground in front of him, making all the debris rise, trying to be a shield....
| |
| − | | |
| − | ... and failing
| |
| − |
| |
| − | The blade goes through Kamatari.... and splinters it to the four winds.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Its breaking cuts all the trees nearby, and the flesh of both combatants, and Sanguine Tears does not stop.
| |
| − | | |
| − | It goes through his armor, and through his cold, shriveled, dead heart.
| |
| − | | |
| − | It pushes him away, even as it rises a waterfall of blood behind him. It pushes him away...
| |
| − | | |
| − | With a shocked, shocked smile on his face, he is pushed away, through a cliff.... and vanishing...
| |
| − | | |
| − | Nothing more than his blood, splinters of his armor and his blade remain.
| |
| − | | |
| − | All around her, there is silence now. If Shadow Lion was still there, waiting for her, watching for her... he is gone now.
| |
| − | | |
| − | All that is left is her... and her flare.
| |
| − |
| |
| − | '''Elizabeth Holysword: ''' Elizabeth stands in the wake of her destruction-- there is blood everywhere, half of it hers. A few moments pass and the three lines crossing her body slide shut, yet she remains in her Ascension form, as if expecing something more to come out of the woods. It was that kind of day.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "WELL?!" she yells to the trees, the mice and the moss. "Are you done!?"- she screams defiantly, but it is all bluff and bluster. By her measure, her animae shouldn't be visible from too far, but given another opponent, it would be.
| |
| − | | |
| − | * She hears a cringing.<br><br>Turning around, she sees one of those creatures, the one that had been thrown half-dead against a tree...<br><br>... still half-dead, but trying to crawl away, slowly... stealthly...
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Elizabeth Holysword: ''' ...the world just ''had'' to prove her wrong, didn't it? Elizabeth's eyes dart towards the creature, birdlike, perfecttly marking its path before she starts towards him-- not running after it, but gliding swiftly on six blood-spattered silken wings. She dodges through the trees as if she were one tenth her size, making small adjustments with each of six wings to fly faster than a horse could on level ground. It is with a simple mechanical precision that she sweeps Sanguine Tears at the shadowy goblin, tearing through thr ground, up into his midsection, spraying dirt, leaves and blood.
| |
| − | | |
| − | She swoops up to kill her momentum, landing gracefully on a branch, checking seriously this time to see if there ''would'' be anything else... She would have to be serious about these things from now on... well.. more serious, anyway. This was war, and it was a war she couldn't afford to lose.
| |
| − | | |
| − | * ... and there is nothing else. Her flare is probably muted by trees and mist...<br><br>... for now.
| |
| − |
| |
| − | '''Elizabeth Holysword: ''' Deciding the world is done attacking her for the time being, and the Lion Veiled in Moon's Shdow is gone, Elizabeth ponders her next move... No, there was no decision to be made, she had to know how the cities of her nation fared, first among those the Spire, Whiteshield's greatest defense... And then, perhaps to Windia, Whiteshield's greatest ally.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Elizabeth holds Sanguine Tears to herself for a moment, a small kiss saying goodbye to it, thanking it as it dissolves into a mist of blood-red cherry blossoms, vaguely resembling a shower of carmine tears.
| |
| − | | |
| − | From her perch, she jumps down to the blood-spattered path, taking the shape of a silver wolf. Wolf was how she felt. She wanted to hunt... And then she is off.
| |
| − | | |
| − | === Another Time, Another Day... ===
| |
| − | | |
| − | On a day like this, it was hard to think there was anything wrong with the world.
| |
| − | | |
| − | The snow falling softly on the ground, the mountains and peaks shining in white, their backs covered with the mix of green and white... it is beautiful. Birds fly, apparently uncaring about what has been gone in the world... not that they truly are, after all, none dared to approach Whiteshield. But here, away from the darkness, they just... live.
| |
| − | | |
| − | The snow seems to be a perfect white in which to lose your worries...
| |
| − | | |
| − | Until she sees the discharges of essence, amidst the mountains.<br>
| |
| − | Ghost-created illusions reaching high, ghost-flame burning on the white-and-green.<br>
| |
| − | Something is going on, there. Fighting...
| |
| − | | |
| − | Between two of the peaks, in a valley... Elizabeth knew one of them, Blue Sky peak, but the name of the other fled from her memory... between them, she saw some figures fighting... both cloaked, but she could see some shine beneath the cloaks... those downhill attacking, those uphill defending. She can see the blood is more crimson with the ones uphill, however.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Elizabeth Holysword: ''' Elizabeth dives closer to the fighting... Avian eyes-- litterally, for she was in the form of a great white bird, her totem-- picking out the details, trying to access the situation. She wasn't stupid, after all, if she could avoid showing up as a blazing silver bird, she would.
| |
| − | | |
| − | With a great sweep from her massive wingspan, she rises and dives slightly to quicken her 'pace'. "''It could be Alex down there... ''" she thinks. "''Alex and those... Corrupted Abyssal wenches. ''"
| |
| − | | |
| − | * Above them, she can see the glinting under the cloaks... silver and white on those uphill, night-black on those downhill...<br><br>Blades clash, those downhill using pole-axes, those uphill with spear and swords...<br><br>Blood being drawn, both dark and crimson...
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Elizabeth Holysword: ''' Silver and black... That was good enough for her. She dives sharply, then suddenly twists up in the air and for a moment, is weightless. Moonlight sheets off her skin like water, and she appears then in her human form amidst a cloud of shining feathers. She takes one of those feathers then in her hand, a great white pinion feather, longer than her arm and shapes it into a great sword as beautiful as the feather was. Then, the moment is gone, and she completes the motion, flipping over backwards into a wingless dive, straight at one of the dark figures.
| |
| − | | |
| − | She hesitates, slightly. "''It could be Carina... ''" she thinks... That would be a bitter surprise for the both of them...
| |
| − | | |
| − | Then, another thing crosses her mind, and doubt leaves her. "''It could also be Selina. ''". With that thought, she names the sword, Obuilette of the New Moon... and the shining silver feather-sword turns black as night.
| |
| − | | |
| − | * As she shone in a whirlwind of feathers, she was seen.<br><br>The ones downhill looked up, just in time for their leader to stop Oubliette with his own sword, a masked face looking up at the princess...<br><br>Both groups stopping for a moment to look at her.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Elizabeth Holysword: ''' Elizabeth flips away from the black-clad man who blocked her strike, and lands with a simple grace, checking discreetly to see who she'd come to the aid of.
| |
| − | | |
| − | * She looks around, and sees the Whiteshield insignia in armor silver and blue, under the heavy fur cloaks. She is sure she can recognize one of the faces that she can glimpse within the hoods... and the style of the swords, of course. That is the Royal Whiteshield Army!<br><br>... quite unlike their enemies.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Dark Soldiers: ''' Poleaxes swing in the air, and nothing is said as she landed on the side of the Shielders.
| |
| − | | |
| − | It was a statement in and of itself.
| |
| − | | |
| − | The same leader swings a blade of obsidian towards one of the shielders, a lady to her right, another two pole-axes strike the ones they would before, two men to Liz' right, and finally, one of them with a bow lets out two arrows on Elizabeth's direction!
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Elizabeth Holysword: ''' Elizabeth nods as she recognizes her people... and in that moment, they attack, and she has a decision to make... but it's no decision. These are ''her'' people... and who knows how many of them are left? She can't let them die, not a single one... But it's not possible for her to come to the aid of each and every one. There's no way she can-- simply and calmly-- walk up to them and move them a hair's width out of harm's way. It's inconceivable.
| |
| − | | |
| − | ...but then, doing the impossible is what the Exalted are ''for''
| |
| − | | |
| − | Like liquid moonlight, she moves them, and their lives are spared, hers... not so much. The obsidian sword bites harshly into her skin, a lash across her back. She twists to look at him, following up her dagger gaze with a backhanded slash from her own.
| |
| − |
| |
| − | '''Royal Army: ''' They struck... and yet, did not.
| |
| − | | |
| − | The silver lady danced, danced, danced around them, protecting each and every one...
| |
| − | | |
| − | At a single point, she is struck by the blade... to nothing. To no avail.
| |
| − | | |
| − | The Shielders smile. Two spears come charging at Elizabeth's sides. The lady flares light over her blade... "Amaranthyne, protect us. Cetari, bite cold on their skin.. For Whiteshield!" She rushes foward, three slashes on another one of them at the same time as Elizabeth strikes...
| |
| − | | |
| − | The two lancers take out one their spears going through him, blackened by dead blood... the lady cuts through another into thin slices with her blade, that seems to shine as she strikes! And the third one... the one Elizabeth hit...
| |
| − | | |
| − | He becomes fine mist. It is the one way to explain it.
| |
| − | | |
| − | The feather-blade, with the wind in it cuts through him... pieces, a brume of dark fluids, rent metal falling... nothing recognizable is left.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Nothing at all.
| |
| − |
| |
| − | The lady jumps, then, over to the one with the Axe... her blade once again shining as it goes down, biting into his shoulder, drawing some blood, but he is still standing... until one of the Lancers coming for him - the other is having troubles taking his spear out - and stabs him through his eye even as he tries to push the woman off...
| |
| − |
| |
| − | '''Elizabeth Holysword: ''' Elizabeth watches the soldiers do what they do best, and nods. She wouldn't be alone in the fight to take back her country... or so she hoped, anyway. There were certain things that could turn even the most loyal soldier against his queen... and Elizabeth had her share of such secrets. For Elizabeth, loyalty was not-- would never again be something she could take for granted, it was something she'd have to earn and hold onto with an iron grip.
| |
| − | | |
| − | She tightens her grip on Oubliette, and dissapears, flowing through the battlefield in a milky haze of moonlight. Six times, she strikes, and each that falls has a black sword stylized like a wing in their chest. The six-winged angel was a symbol of the Holysword family, and here, those wings were black as charcoal.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Dark Soldiers: ''' She dances, she dances...
| |
| − | | |
| − | Two pole-axe wielders, busy parrying the arrows from the Royal Army, see her blade, and are cut down.<br>
| |
| − | Three Archers, readying themselves to kill the lady, are cut where they stand, before even seeing the princess.<br>And one, one man with a obsidian blade, stops her own.
| |
| − | | |
| − | She finishes her dancing, and only that one is left.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "You..." A moment of shock. Complete and utter shock.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "You..." And then, rage. Chaos explodes about him. He moves as if out from a nightmare, His slashes coming from everywhere, a shadow, nothing more than a shadow striking at her with a blade that burns, that burns hot as a sun....
| |
| − |
| |
| − | '''Elizabeth Holysword: ''' The blade comes from everywhere, burning her skin, cutting her flesh, and for once, it isn't her decision not to defend-- yet all the same, burnt and cracked flesh is washed away by milky light, leaving clean lines in her flesh that narrow with every passing moment as she stands defiantly against the attack.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Then, something happens. The skin on Elizabeth's back twists unnaturally, distorted as bonees move and rearrange themselves, and finally splitting in a shower of viscera as her wings explode into their full span. The Holysword blood is mixed with the Windian beyond all recognition, these are the wings she was born with. What she wasn't born with is the thick white aura around them... almost palpable. Actually, it _is_ palpable, and a great deal more, as the single remaining dark soldier discovers as a thick tendril of white separates from the mass, then another, and another, until they appear as stylized wings-- and suddenly, Elizabeth reaches out with her hand, and the tendrils follow the motion. They dart around him. Five? Ten? Too many to count, pulling at him, wraping him, binding, crushing.
| |
| − |
| |
| − | '''Dark Soldiers: ''' He moves his blade, the flat of it, trying to stand on her way... but then, the tendrils. So many of them!
| |
| − | | |
| − | He lifts is sword, and the air around him explodes in pyre-flame, burning the tendrils away, pushing the Lunar away...!
| |
| − |
| |
| − | .. to no avail. The Lunar light pierces the flame, the princess goes through its illusion uncathed... and wraps around him, tightly.
| |
| − |
| |
| − | '''Elizabeth Holysword: ''' As soon as the tendrils of light have him, she motions sharply, and they bring him to her. She throws back his hood and takes him by the throat, looking deep into the cold, dead eyes. "Tell me..." she growls forcefully. "...everything you know about the resistance. Tell me where my brothers and sister are!"
| |
| − |
| |
| − | '''Dark Soldiers: ''' "Wha...?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | "I... I don't know anything! About anyone!"
| |
| − | | |
| − | ... and then, the body loses weight on her hand.... and she sees the ghost slipping out of it.
| |
| − |
| |
| − | '''Elizabeth Holysword: ''' She sees his ghost trying to escape, and adjusts her grip, taking hold of it with her left and and ripping it forcefully from the body, which she casts aside as her tentcales bind the ghost as strongly as they'd bound his body. "The prince, Alexander! He's been fighting your disgusting army, you should know where he is!"
| |
| − | | |
| − | Suddenly, she remembers the soldiers the nemesaries were fighting, and swings around-- ghost in hand-- to look at them. "You! Do any of you know where the royal children are?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Dark Soldiers: ''' Both the soldiers and the ghost say it in unison "You... you are..."
| |
| − | | |
| − | The one who had moved so fast - obviously the leader of the group - takes a step foward, letting her hood fall... "No, we do not. We heard they were taken, or died, according to who told us the tale, out of those like him we had aprehended."
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Elizabeth Holysword: ''' Elizabeth sighs, pulling the ghost back in front of her. "Taken! Yes!" she yells, "Taken '''''where'''''?"
| |
| − |
| |
| − | '''Dark Soldiers: ''' "... the prince... he escaped us... we heard he was at Windia! He helped stop the Celebrant! Is... is all I know!"
| |
| − | | |
| − | "He has to be in Windia, together with that Silver Whore!"
| |
| − | | |
| − | "The other prince is with him, the princess escaped from our grasp, is all I know, is all I know! Please... please...."
| |
| − | | |
| − | The ghost looked into the Lunar's eyes.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Terrified.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Elizabeth Holysword: ''' "In Windia with Valencia?". That puzzeled her. Would Valencia work with that Selina de Windia? She wanted to say no... That Valencia was Windia's heroine, she wouldn't have anything to do with that murderous girl... let alone a deathknight... But Abyssals could worm their way into relations with the most virtuous of people... as she well knew. As Alex would well know, by now.
| |
| − | | |
| − | ...as Carina would be doing...
| |
| − | | |
| − | "...then I'll go to Windia." she said, picking up Oubliette where she'd dropped it. "...and you will go home."
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Royal Army: ''' The lady took a step foward, placing down her hood, long brown hair underneath it...
| |
| − | | |
| − | And speaking, as if for all of her men. "You... are you really...?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Elizabeth Holysword: ''' With a quick twist of her arm, the ghost is passed on, and she turns back to the soldiers with a sigh as the ghostly wings fade, no longer needed.. She loved her people. She loved them dearly... She absolutely ''hated'' having to deal with them though. "Am I Elizabeth Holysword? I'm afraid I am. All that and then some."
| |
| − |
| |
| − | '''Royal Army: ''' The lady looks up to lady who claimed to be Elizabeth Holysword... looking at the silver skin... at her silver aura... and her blood-stained hands. "Blood-stained hands..." she says, looking the princess around... "You... you are a Moon-Chosen?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Elizabeth Holysword: ''' Elizabeth blinks. Did she not just kill six nemesaries in as many seconds? Did she not just sprout wings and tentcales from her back? Was she not glowing godamn ''silver''? She bites back a bitter retort along the lines of 'Ya thnk?' and nods solemnly. "I am."
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Royal Army: ''' She kneels before Elizabeth then, one armored knee vanishing on the snow.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "We are what remains from the forces of the crown far as we know, my lady. What are your orders?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Elizabeth Holysword: ''' Elizabeth covers her face with one hand and sighs. "You're it?" She shakes her head. "You heard what he said--" she says, before realizing it was a ghost-- "...or maybe you didn't. But my brother's been in Windia, so that's where I'm going, and I'm not slowing down for you. Follow me-- stop at Spire to check the situation there-- and come to the Holysword Manse in Windia. When you get there, I'll know."
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Royal Army: ''' "We did not wish to leave here... to leave our country behind. I am Siena Summerfall, my lady."
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Knight Royal, in charge of the unit of Silverhawks."
| |
| − |
| |
| − | '''Elizabeth Holysword: ''' Elizabeth shifts her weight from one foot to the other, anxious to be on her way now that she had something more solid. Of course, five minutes would not have her brother spirited away if he was there... or it might. There were Necromancers that could open gates to the Labyrinth under the Underworld... No, she ''had'' to go. Right now.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Then stay if you must-- but there is a war going on out there, a war for all of the north. If you're truely the last of our soldiers, you'll do no good alone... Windia will come to our aid-- I'll make sure of it, one way or another."
| |
| − |
| |
| − | '''Royal Army: ''' "You are going alone, my lady? Are... are you sure?" She asks, concerned, the bowmen who had been fixed on her finally relaxing. Despite her aspect, she was acting like she should...
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Elizabeth Holysword: ''' "I am. Even if I could carry some of you..." She could. Easily. Actually, she could probably carry them ''all''-- if there were room. "...I wouldn't want to split your forces. These are dangerous times." She turns and throws Oubliette of the New Moon into the body the last Nemesary had fled from. "Don't worry about me..." she says, asuredly, her shape flowing white-silver into the form of a great bird.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "I'm immortal."
| |
| − | | |
| − | With a surge of strength not surprising in a bird the size of a wagon, Elizabeth dissapears into the air. Moments later, Oubliette of the New Moon and its copies dissolve into a flock of black feathers, lost to the wind. And then she is off.
| |
| − | | |
| − | To the Spire.
| |
| − | | |
| − | | |
| − | ----
| |
| − | | |
| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/SixthMovement|Sixth Movement]]
| |
| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/DanceOfAngels|A Dance of Angels]]
| |
