GoldenCat/RealigningLoyalties
- - Back to Fourth Movement
- - Back to A Dance of Angels
Realigning Loyalties
The Windian Garrisson, near the gates of Whiteshield...
Frantic activity takes it all. The few artifacts they have moving around, tended by all of the sorcerer-engineers and thaumathurges they can field, wards on every possible opening, training grounds rehearsing the moves of hundreds of soldiers, weapons enchanted and prepared....
A day after the raid, and ready to come into Whiteshield to fight the best the Bishop has to offer.
And that is when the Zephyr arrives, looking down on the camp... and, as sunlight of the late afternoon pours over it, making all the trees in the mount shine golden, making the many brooks nearby reflect the light like a water mirror, Cael can see the beauty of the mountains and the energy of the army....
Vorpal: Thunk.
The black blade sinks tip first into the ground, cutting its way through dirt and pebbles as easily as it does with living flesh. Earth around it seems to almost shiver as the weapon is shoved deeper and then left there, a tiny soulsteel needle lodged into Creation's thick hide.
There.
Vorpal lets go of Mournful Kiss's handle. Turning, she takes several long strides away from the weapon and then halts.
There is a certain sort of connection between a weapon and its wielder. There has to be, if the two are to move as one in heated battle. The wielder has to know her weapon, she has to be familiar with every inch of its length, every ounce of its weight, every nook and niche and cranny...
Sighing, she turns back to face Mournful Kiss, examining her loyal companion intently with her gaze.
So let's see if we can get this to work.
Her attention is drawn elsewhere for a moment as the Zephyr crosses the sky over her head. A sudden gust of wind follows in the skyship's wake, tossing the Pale Angel's dark cloak and tugging at her hair.
Vorpal allows a little smile to tug at her lips as she raises her hand to shield her eyes from the sun.
Welcome back, pirate.
Cael: Swinging the airship around over the camp, obstinately to look for a landing spot, one that he found almost 50 miles and half an hour ago, Cael takes the time to survey it more closely, smiling at the vista the mountains present as he settles the Zephyr in the midst of the camp, taking up a little of an assembly area.
"I think you might have guests again tonight Cal, better clean the rooms." he says with a grin, knowing she kept them immaculate at all times.
He strokes his hand along the Zephyr's skin as he descends the steps, his white coat aflame in the sunset as he reaches the ground. And with that he starts to walk through the camp, easily finding his way
Though not quite so easily as I could ... the organisation here could be so much better ... though that would violate the terms of our agreement with Valencia....
I will have to talk to her about that. It might be best to add a little dependancy anyway. The lunar couldn't be trusted entirely, of course, not in the war. Though could any of them?
Cael keeps such thoughts off his face as he walks towards the area he saw Vorpal practicing ... something in.
Vorpal: Vorpal, apparently, is having a staring contest with her sword. Her hands on her hips, her cloak moving lazily in the breeze, she scowls at the weapon, bathing it with a Look that is not all that different from what she usually reserves for people she seeks to frighten around.
Mournful Kiss, unfortunately, does not even fidget under the onslaught. But then again, this shouldn't be much of a surprise. A trusted weapon of the Pale Angel herself, it is quite familiar with all the tricks used by Her Terrifying Highness, and it knows a counter for every one of them. It juts up from the ground silent and unassuming, a little bastion of tranquility under her gaze.
Vorpal frowns.
...and why does this remind me of that skypirate?
"Oi", she says without looking up as she hears someone approach, guessing correctly the newcomer's identity. "Welcome back."
Cael: "Greetings." Cael says with a faint smile on his face "It is good to be back. I trust things went well, if not according to plan?"
He looks between the woman and her blade.
"Though it does appear Mournful Kiss has the better of you for the moment ..."
Vorpal: So you recognize a kindred spirit, eh, Cael?
It shouldn't be much of a surprise, I suppose. Mournful Kiss is a bastardian sword, after all.
"It went well enough", the Pale Angel responds with a shrug, and turns to face Cael, firmly suppressing a strange tug deep down the moment she lays her eyes on him. "The Bishop is down two outposts, no significant losses for us. I will fill you in with the details later. Now, your turn. How was your journey?"
Cael: Now, that is an interesting look ... I wonder who is responsible for it...
"My journey was relatively uneventful, apart from the chance visits of the Ashen Tears Prophet and a star-chosen named Gennadi." Cael speaks rather matter of factly about the visits.
Vorpal: "Hmm." Vorpal folds her arms over her chest, nodding slowly. "Sooner or later, they are going to make appearances in greater groups than just ones and twos. You'll have to give me a full report later."
"But a Sidereal again?" She raises her eyebrows slightly at that. "They have become awfully eager to reveal themselves to everyone these days, haven't they? What do you say? Was this... Gennadi an ally or an enemy for you?"
Cael: "Well, he wished to make an offer to me, the Prophet that is." Cael shrugs. "A larger group would not have helped his cause, he may have felt."
"Gennadi appeared to me as an ally ... his arrival helped to ... defuse the impasse myself and the Prophet found ourselves in, and during the conversation afterwards, he extended an offer to help our cause, such as he could..."
Vorpal: "Help, in what manner?" Vorpal keeps her mien carefully neutral as she asks this.
Cael: "He was vague about the exact manner, but his intentions were clear to me." Cael says simply.
Vorpal: "Put that in your report, too."
The Pale Angel turns and strides over to her defiant sword. One gloved hand resting on its pommel, she stares at the weapon silently for a few seconds, her line of thoughts straying to work with another matter for a moment.
"Actually", she finally says, "It's good that you returned just now. We came back from our raid with an interesting prisoner. An Air-aspected Dragon Blooded. He is waiting for interrogation right now."
She looks up at Cael. "You're not weary, are you? It would be nice to have a Deceiver with us when we go to have a little chat with him."
Cael: A report, eh? She was serious about that then ... well, it would be interesting to write..
"An air aspect dragonblood, you say? Interesting. I am sure I could manage to stay away long enough to talk with him." Cael says with no evidence of fatiage at all.
"What was he doing, beyond being capture by you?"
Vorpal: "Other than trying to kill us?" Vorpal asks in return. "He fought on the Bishop's side. A very fancy show, too. The strange thing is that he doesn't seem like a religious fanatic. I want to know what someone like him is doing working for the Bishop."
And with that, she pulls her sword up from the ground. Earth seems to sigh as the weapon is pulled free, althought the sound surely comes from soulsteel scraping against gravel...
Valencia Silverstar: "Yes, perhaps that would be...nice." Comes the countess' voice as she walks up to them. Clad in a suit of heavy metal plate, though no helmet is over her head, and so her long silvery-white hair blows free. "He is probably an outcaste mercenary."
Cael: "It could be as simple as money, though I'm sure you realise that." Cael says just before la Silverstar walks up.
"Ah, another vote for mercenary? That could be rather premature, but it is the most likely explanation. How did he fight anyway?"
Vorpal: "He threw feathers", Vorpal responds as she acknowledges the other commander with a glance. "Air Aspects tend to have a natural talent for ranged combat."
"Are you ready to go now?" she asks then, turning over to Valencia.
Valencia Silverstar: She nods. "We can deal with him now." The armor the Windian is wearing shows, in a way, how powerful she really is. Not in the realm of magic -- simple or complex -- but in raw physicality, strength and endurance. Thick plates, shaped to fit her body, cover it like an interlocking second skin. Even the leading edges of her wings bear armor -- and she is supposed to be able to fly in that getup as well. Not protection she uses often: in the past raid and when she defended Windia, she wore only the magical leotard. It is fairly clear what message she intends to send to their captive. And that she is denying people a look at the body underneath all that steel. "Do you prefer to question him, or shall I? Or perhaps Cael would like to?"
Cael: "I do not need to ask him questions to find out exactly why he does things. Just listening to the answers he gives to either of you will be sufficient I think." Cael says in response to her question.
"Perhaps the pair of you could take it in turns ... bad cop, and worse cop, as it were." Cael being careful to assign neither label to either of them ... specifically.
Vorpal: "Since you've dressed for the occasion, feel free to start it", Vorpal responds with a dismissive wave of hand. She takes a moment to sheathe her sword, then continues: "I'll speak up when I feel like it."
Not waiting for the others to reply, she steps forth, beginning to lead them towards the place where they secured the prisoner. "Now, let us stew some dragon, shall we?"
- The building is shaped like a exagonal windmill,, and made of white stone.
From Whiteshield, of course. Built on its edge, with its stones.
Within, they held the military's prisioners. In the way of the military. A Dragon-Blooded stood outside its doors - all of Valencia's were working around the clock, it seemed. Always needed somewhere. And only such could hold those gates.
The sun was still warm, this afternoon, even as they stood upon melting snow. A promise of better times, or just a respite?
And, as the Celestials and Abyssal stood at the edge of the prision, a figure of light came running to them... a broad smile on his face... seeming to shine under the sun. No, he did shine under the sun!
"Cael!!" Alex shouted, giving the Windwraith a strong, warm hug...
Vorpal: While most of the Chosen might enjoy the brightness of the sun, one among them does not. Her hood drawn low to protect her eyes and albino skin from the light, the Pale Angel turns slightly away at the young prince's approach.
Cael: Cael accepts the boy into his arms with ease, hugging him back, holding him for a few moments before he lets him go, smiling at the boy
"And what has gotten you in such high spirits this morning, Alex?" he asks with warmth in his voice as he looks at the Prince.
Alexander: "Hearing you'd gotten here!" He says, smiling up at Cael...
"Good to know you are back... that nothing happened to you! I missed you..."
"And Cedric? Millia? Anne...?"
Valencia Silverstar: Iron armor catching the gleam of the sunlight on its plates, Valencia turns to greet the young Prince. "Good day, Alexander." Her tone is somewhat formal.
Cael: Cael began to doubt just how he could mistrust someone so innocent as the Prince smiling up at him, such innocent joy on his face, some deep instinct tugging at him none the less, that had been there since the Prophet's visit.
"Cedric, Millia, Anne ... they're all fine, and so is Calisara." He says with a grin. "Something did happen, but it's nothing you need worry about right now." He strokes the Prince's hair "It's good to see you are none the worse for wear from the raids."
Alexander: "Good..."
He relaxes under the strokes, thinking...
"Well... we are, actually... but... I will tell you of it later!"
Taking his mind out of the horror, trying to keep the cheerfulness in him...
He takes her image in.... Valencia, all armored.
Her torso, arms, legs... even her wings...
So... different. Almost like another person...
Part of his mind kept telling him that is how she should be. She is a general, a military commander, a Countess, after all. And yet... all he could think is of her body freed, dressed only in the shining silver leotard, barely covered by it and the long gloves and boots.
Oddly enough, he had always taken that sight... naturally.
And only now, seeing her form in the prude bondage of such armor, does he truly understand how much he had seen... as he stares, trying to imagine her without such armor again.
"Good day, Milady Silverstar..."
He had seen her before that day, but the Prince understood the formalities well enough. "And good day to you, Lilith."
Cael: Cael lets the Prince go as he begins to greet la silverstar, nodding at him.
"We will speak of it later then."
Vorpal: "Good day", Vorpal says, turning slightly towards Prince. Her voice is casual, but there is a slight smile caressing her lips as she regards the young Solar. "I'm glad to see you're feeling well today."
Then, her eyes flicker over to Valencia for a moment, and for a second time today she wonders about the Lunar's sudden change of attire. The deathknight has to admit, full armor suits the Countess well. It makes her look more like the military commander she is - as a life-long player in the game of imago and appearance herself, the Pale Angel is well aware of how important it is to project the correct impression to others.
Now that I think about it, I probably should be clad in something more formal for this as well.
She gives this a mental shrug.
Ah well. Too late for that now.
"Aye", the Ghost-Blooded agrees to Cael's words. "Right now, we have a prisoner to interrogate."
Valencia Silverstar: The Countess' steel-grey eyes show a bit more intensity than her tone would indicate, but leashed. Perhaps, some might think, it is only the mental side effect of wearing all that armor, but she does not elaborate further. "Indeed. Our Terrestrial catch of the day."
Which of us shall be the...worse, I wonder.
- And then, the groups walks within the prision....through two checkpoints, and finally, opening the cell that holds the prince of the earth. A handsome man, a somewhat long golden hair falling over his eyes and shoulders, and stopping there. His eyes shone like sapphires,his hands held by thick manacles of steel and jade behind his back. He looks up with some amusement.
"Finally. Was wondering when you would show up."
Vorpal: The Pale Angel does not so much as give their prisoner a glance. Instead, she marches across the cell and leans her cloaked back against the wall.
"You first, Lunar", she suddenly says and folds her hands over her chest. "Remember, the one who makes him scream quicker wins the bet."
Valencia Silverstar: Valencia looked right into the eyes of that sellsword, that mercenary. Another honorless dog, willing to work for the dead.
But there are some of my allies right there.
How honorless they are is debatable, but it's a good reminder. A mercenary deathknight and a Deceiver.
I wonder which one I should trust less. She thinks with some amusement. But no, to the matter of that man before them.
"Eager to start the game?" Her tone is flat as slate, routine. "But this is not a game. Let us start simply: When were you hired, and how many counterparts do you have?"
Alexander: The prince places his hands on pockets, and waits.
And sure hopes the ladies won't go too far...
- "Hmmm.... hired? You can tell I am a mercenary that easily?" He chuckles, then coughs a little. He was still hurt from Eva's spear.. quite a bit so. And unshaven, giving his face a look of rugged gold. "About a year ago. Was approached by this 'Prophet' fellow. Nice guy. Nice payment. Not as fanatic as the rest. Not quite what I imagined, but ah... what job really is, eh?"
Vorpal: Outwardly, it seems as if the Pale Angel is not even listening. She stands silent and still, her head slightly bowed, as if her mind was working with other topics.
This is, of course, not the case, and Vorpal knows everyone within the chamber knows it as well. But - appearances are important, and now is not yet her time.
Cael: Cael smiles at him, from behind the impossing figures of Valeria and Vorpal.
Well, that was interesting. Not just your average mercenary....If he could be turned, he might serve them just as he served the Prophet, though what would take to turn him....
Valencia Silverstar: "Your counterparts, please." The Lunar repeats, steel-grey eyes catching his gaze intently.
- "Hmmm. Well, they hired quite a few of us. This Prophet went after power - he is a smart guy. The Admiral got some of the Hanslanti fleet and ship spirits as well, though where she will strike, I have no idea. A few Dragon-Blooded, like me. Powerful Ghosts... Gods of Whiteshield, and Faeries from the same."
"I wouldn't call them my 'counterparts'. The bulk is religious fanatics, we are just a mish-mash of random power added to it, riding on the wind of prayers."
"Not that they even know how to use us, as you can see from my case."
Valencia Silverstar: That was somewhat troubling. "Haslanti's navy?" She asks just as flatly as before. "The Gods of Whiteshield are aiding the dead, then?"
The Faeries were not a surprise to her. They would do whatever their whimsy suggested to them at the time. She wondered if any of her own kind were in on the war, but that was a question she could ask later.
- "Yep. She lured a few ships and water spirits from them. Pehaps a Water Dragon or two... bet Dragonfish is not happy with that in the least. Heh. Suits the bastard just fine." He chuckled a bit more, wrinkling his nose, seeming feeling some itch from his unshaven face. Not being able to use the hands was probably quite unnerving in these circumstances. "Yep, some of them jumped in. Kodak, a god of the Boil was /so/ there, and somehow the Prophet even got Cetari on his side."
Valencia knew Cetari, the Angel of Winter. From this and other lives, a powerful and honorable retainer to the sun... both unthinkable that he would fall, and unfortunate that one so puissant would be against them.
Vorpal: ...Haslanti?
In the shadows of her hood, Vorpal frowns slightly. She shifts, giving a sidelong glance at Cael.
That is a worrisome move from them, but now that she thinks about it, one that makes perfect sense. How else to fight against a flying army but to hire flying ships?
"So", she speaks out for the first time in a while, "how much did they pay you?"
- "Quite a bit." He says the price... a king's ransom, that is for sure.
Vorpal: Oho?
She looks up, her eyes glimmering in the shadows of her hood as she stares at their prisoner. "But that's just an extra when compared to what you are really seeking from this war." It is a statement, not a question.
Cael: "A king's ransom for a king, eh?" Cael tilts his head at the man "That is quite some sum to offer."
- "And not as much as I deserve. Of course, I was misused, and plcaed together with a group of idiots. If I had been placed on the right place, I would have shown them how I am worth thrice that."
"And yes, Pale Angel - to prove myself against godlings and fair ones of Whiteshield was glorious. Unfortunately... it seems like I will not be with them running roughshod over Windia. Damn General."
Valencia Silverstar: "Mhmm." Valencia hums, looking over the man, one gauntleted hand resting on the pommel of her sword absentmindedly. "If they get that dubious honor. This Prophet, I am curious of him. And the 'General'."
Vorpal: At this, the Pale Angel actually chuckles aloud, a deep, ominous sound. "Dubious or not, that can still be arranged", she says and bares her white teeth. "Since we are already talking about ransoms, what is your life and freedom worth to you?"
Cael: What is your life and freedom worth to you?
An interesting question...though not one Cael cared to consider as he looked right through the Dragonblooded before him, through all the petty deceptions and delusions he wrapped around himself, right to the core of the matter. Right to the centre of things.
Right to the price that would buy his soul.
- "Hmmm. I am not sure if I can remember things that well, madam Silverstar... the mistreatment in the hands of your subordinates clouded my mind to nearly everything else..." He says in a mock of pout, looking at the Pale Angel...
"More than they have paid me to be here, for sure."
- Cael sees within his soul...
The image of him on a throne, overlooking a vast spance of land...
The image of the trophies on his walls, heads of monsters and weapons of magical material...
Trophies of foes defeated, trophies of past glory...
The image of the winged slaves at his feet, the jewels of nobility and the chains of dominance...
And the advisors at his side, flattering him, telling him how great all he sees, all he owns, is...
To have the grandeur he was born for. To be recognized for his greatness. To have the thrills of a lifetime, fight the great, and be praised for it. Gold, Glory and Fame.
Valencia Silverstar: "I am not asking you to inform me of them, I am telling you to." Valencia's voice gains a slight...edge to it. Also as she senses the charm being used behind her, again.
And when we are done, Windwraith, I will know everything you found out.
She hadn't tested him yet -- so far the Pale Angel had passed her muster. So far. If the Deceiver was a deceiver, well...
"Unless you think four jade talents is worth covering for your employers to the end."
Vorpal: "That can wait for a moment, Valencia", the Pale Angel states calmly from behind the Lunar. "There is something else that needs to be taken care of first."
Valencia Silverstar: "Hmm?" She asks, turning her head to look at Vorpal out of the corner of her eye. One eyebrow is raised, curious as to just what would be important enough to make the Pale Angel break her questioning.
Vorpal: "Bishop does not only seek to conquer Windia", Vorpal says. "He seeks to bring death to every single soul living in it - this includes you, Dragonblooded. It doesn't matter whether you fight on his side or against him - if he wins this war, you will die a very unglorious death. Four jade talents is hardly the right price to give up your life for, especially when you are working under idiots. So I will offer you a chance to ransom yourself and, maybe, a chance to stay alive through this all." She pauses, and allows her words to sink in. Her eyes are hard, her mien grave.
"Serve me", she states, simply, straighforwardly. And like so many times before, her aura of presence seems to suddenly intensify, becoming an almost hand-felt force within the small cell. She does not move an inch, but there is a change in her posture. All of a sudden, she seems taller, broader, larger than what she truly is. "Offer your loyalty and talents to me for this war. Offer me your knowledge of the enemy. Help me defeat him. Help me to help you stay alive."
She pauses again, and the pressure lessens somewhat. "There will", she adds with softer tones, "A little bonus thrown in as well."
- Silverstar's words really get to him, making him once again anger at how meager he thinks his payment is. "Hrm. I suppose it will not be any harm to tell you, now, will it? That change is not enough to pay for my services, much less to make me cover for those idiots."
He sighs a little on the fact that they still do not know his name.... and did not even ask. He was being ignored like... that!
"The Prophet is quite a slick person. Very, very smooth as well.... the man who got Cetari to their cause, who helped the Vestal to break the freeholds from Whiteshield, who made some of the best, and even gods, from the Boil, Almas and Spire sell themselves. White hair, always carrying a book that seems to be made of pressed ashes under his arm, and as much of an albino as the Pale Angel there, with red streaks coming down from his eyes. Very pretty, too."
"Last I saw him, he was over tracking through the Freeholds of Whiteshield, and went abroad to see how his tongue can work on the Lunar Exalted. The bastard got his hands on the Whiteshield ladies I wanted to claim, too."
He stopped, then, considering the Pale Angel's words... "Well, the deathknights seemed live enough... they never said anything of killing us... well..."
He had been swayed enough, it seemed.
"...What do I get?"
Vorpal: "For starters", the Pale Angel shrugs, "You would still get to prove yourself against powerful foes. You have served among the Bishop's troops, you know how strong some of them can be."
She raises her gloved hand, displaying two fingers. "Second, you would have the honor of fighting alongside one of the greatest war leaders in the North. A real one, unlike the General."
Who exactly this war leader is, she leaves up to everyone's speculation.
"Third, there will naturally be payment of some sort in the end, too."
- "Hmmm..."
He smiles. They had him convinced.
"I will trust you, then. You seem like something more worthy of me!"
"If you will let me out of here, we can talk more, then? I have plenty of inside knowledge you all will probably love to hear... over dinner, pehaps? Your prision food sucks."
Valencia Silverstar: One eyebrow raises, the other compresses. A bit. "And you honestly think the other food is that much better. Field camp food." Valencia had eaten plenty of military food in her lifetime, and although this wasn't the worst, it wasn't the best either.
Such as when that de Windia was stationed with me.
She wonders if Selina is so extravagent as that one. She sure had better not be.
I'll smack some humility into her if she is.
"I do believe we will need a bit more than you desire to eat our slightly-better-officer-food before we let you out, though."
Vorpal: "We will, of course, want a proof that you can be trusted", Vorpal agrees, nodding to Valencia. Turning her head over to Cael, she gives the skypirate a little smile. "Your kind can do something about oaths, can't you?"
- "You know, you still haven't asked my name. You really, really wound me, m'angels." He says, his lips curled. "Hmmm, and a razor. I have been meaning to shave for a while. That would be good too..."
"What else would you like to know? About the Crusader? The General? The Vestal? The Parishioner? Their plans for Old Home? The Dead Hand? The Freeholds..? Oh, I know plenty of things.."
Cael: "Oh I know a little about oaths, it's true." Cael regards the man as he continues speaking "Any oath he agrees too, I can offer some measure of trust he'll keep to it."
Vorpal: "The stage is yours."
Valencia Silverstar: "What is your name, then? And your lineage, since the topic is so close." Valencia ventures, wondering now just what he would have been looking at if she'd come without the armor. At least the Pale Angel had a cloak.
- "My name is... Cloud in Dawn!" He says, with no small ammount of pride.
"And Viridian Carp was my great grandfather!"
he says, referring to a powerful Hanslanti admiral of old.
"As you can see, I hinherited his best, I would think!"
Cael: Cael steps forward, letting the twin circles of his caste shine on his forehead.
"This is quite simple, really, Cloud in Dawn, Grandson of Viridian Carp."
"You swear to serve the Pale Angel, myself and her allies, and I will ask the Heavens to witness the deal. Once this oath is sworn, you may follow her to gold and glory and wherever she wishes to take you."
Cael extends a single hand to the man, placinf it on his forehead, waiting for him to swear the oath.
Alexander: "I have met mercenaries less self-absorbed than this one..."
Otieno...
The prince is not amused by Cloud - or to the way he looks at Valencia and Vorpal.
Cloud in Dawn: "I swear. To serve the generals of Silver and Ivory to glory, to gold, loyally as long as I am paid and given a chance to fight the best."
He says, smiling. He was sincere, but had probably exercised such sincerity to the Prophet before...
"Hmmm... You are the windwraith, are you not?"
Valencia Silverstar: Valencia says nothing, at the moment. That the Pale Angel worded her entreaty the way she did was...what? It bore watching, the Lunar supposes.
For now, at least, that Terrestrial is bound.
As far as we know.
Cael: Cael calls on the heavens to witness the deal, the twin quills of his anima writing the terms of the deal in the air, in perfectly formed kanji of gold that hang there for a few seconds, binding the Cloud in Dawn to the agreement for now and always.
They hang in the air, mute symbols to the powers invested in his caste, before they fade away.
"I am the Windwraith, yes."
Cloud in Dawn: "Oh..."
"... fuck, and I thought that was just a formality. Least I am not breaking the old one.."
"Well, you have your fucking leash." He sighs, "What now?"
Vorpal: "That is settled, then", the Pale Angel says and pushes herself off the wall. It is difficult to say whether she is truly pleased with how things have proceeded, but there is no hesitation in her steps as she crosses over to the Dragonblooded and slips behind the man. Laying her hands unceremoniously onto the manacles, she adds softly: "We won't need these anymore."
In her youth, the castle maids had already whispered about the abominable strength displayed by the pale girl. But this was many years ago, and in that time, she had grown into a woman, her body shaped and honed by the ceaseless training and warfare. And in that time, she had also become an Abyssal, with all the dark powers of her kind at her disposal.
The manacles are designed to hold minor Chosen at bay. Made of steel and jade, they have been crafted well to serve their purpose.
She pulls her hands apart, slowly.
There is a simple, lonely snap.
Valencia Silverstar: "Ah, so one of them bound you as well." The Lunar mumbles, almost to herself. Wondering, now, if any in Windia have made such deals. She would have to look for signs of it later on. Or get someone else to.
"Not for him, no."
Cloud in Dawn: Cold sweat runs down from his forehead as he sees Vorpal exert such strength, then, free, he gets up and manages to finally scratch his unshaven face, the golden hair falling over his shoulders as he looks around... and see how all the beautiful people look so much better when one can stand. Leering just a tad!
"Hmmm, and the boy is the prince of Whiteshield, right? And they were sure they would get you back after a couple of days, boy..."
Vorpal: "That was their mistake", the Pale Angel responds as she tosses manacle pieces away and moves over to the cell exit. Pausing by the doorway, she looks over her shoulder at Cloud. "What did you swear to the Bishop's minions, in any case?"
Then she leans out from the cell, calling for someone to bring them shaving tools.
Alexander: The prince takes a step back, a little uncomfortable with the look. Hard to get used to how much his relics increased his appearance, and... getting that look ade him uncomfortable, especially from such a merc, a male no less. " And they failed. Thanks to the Angels."
Valencia Silverstar: "All two of them." Valencia states dryly, crossing her armored arms over the chestplate. And she was glad she had not yet met the second. "A pretty plan all the same."
Cael: Cael merely returns the slight leer with an appraising look of his own, taking the man's appearance now he was standing. Cael decided he quite liked it.
Cloud in Dawn: " 'To aid on their crusade against the living and not betray their cause as long as I got paid and fought for glory!'"
"Of course, they ended up not paying me, and they stationed me on an outpost on the middle of nowhere, so I hope this does not count" he shrugs. "Even if it did, either heaven or the dead will extract their toll on me now, right? I have no choice."
"Least this side is prettier."
Valencia Silverstar: "In this armor? Hah." The Windian demures, one wing drooping a bit, as if in question. The leading edge armor really wasn't that heavy...after that much use anyway. "Look to the other for that. Or wait till the 'other Angel' comes back. I'm sure she will soon." Valencia ends dryly once more.
Vorpal: Standing by the doorway, the Pale Angel says nothing. Although her mien is carefully neutral, there is a distinct, dry feeling in the way she stares at their latest recruit.
Maybe this was not one of my better ideas after all...
Whatever the case, she would have to live with it for now.
"All right, Valencia", she says with a little wave of her hand. "Let's continue where you left off. The General, wasn't it?"
Whatever will happen once the 'other' angel returns, one thing is for certain, Lunar. It will be quite a spectacle.
Cloud in Dawn: "Oh, I remember the other. Quite an eyeful... wouldn't mind seeing you in it once again."
He nods to Vorpal, head low. He did recognize her as the superior. "Yes, the General. I suppose I don't need to tell anyone who the bastard was before the Bishop touched him. He is a Forsaken as well, like the Bull. He is very, very strong... and his team of Dragon-Blooded are wholly devoted to him. And there is his 'pet' - a Behemoth he tamed I don't know HOW. The bastard thought I was too 'indisciplined' and put me on lookout duty." His features contort. That really did wound his pride. "I could be there hunting the intruders, fighting the freeholds...."
Valencia Silverstar: Brilliant way to get me to wear it again. She thinks sourly, then coughs slightly and makes to speak.
"I would hope he is very very strong." The Lunar replies primly, not bothering to hide that little bit of prudishness. "How many deathknights did you know of, all told?"
Cloud in Dawn: "His team fights in unison with him - Dragon-Blooded teamwork, I don't know if you would understand... we are one with the elements that make all of the world. When together, we can become invincible."
"He was 'pacifying' places. I felt something close to what the Pale Angel there did - His presence is... irrprensible. He beat Spire and the Boil's spirits into submission. He was going back to the Boil, and the prision the Parishioner opened close to it, after fighting an Abyssal that had snuck into Whiteshield, is last I hear of him. He was sure us lookouts would be able to hold people... like we, um... did not."
"Ten of them. The leader is the Crusader Wielding His Regret. Witrh him, the General of the Army of Blood and Fire, the Celebrant of Blood and the Acolyte of Ivory and Basalt. You seem to have struck the last one. A pity, she was a real looker. The Celebrant can go - she scared me, I tell you."
Valencia Silverstar: "Ten of them." Valencia replies just as flatly, concealing her ire fairly well. That was alot of deathknights. Alot of deathknights. "And we've done for...3? Well, that helps."
Vorpal: "Deathknights, plus demons, ghosts and other Chosen as well", Vorpal adds in quietly from her place by the doorway. "The Celebrant had a tainted Lunar at her command. There might be more."
Cloud in Dawn: "Well, actually.... I think they still have seven. The Admiral, the Vestal, the Crusader, the General, the Parishioner, Ivory Blossoms, and the Prophet. And I bet they will come together now that you are pressing in..."
"Anyway, can we walk out of here? This cell... sucks, for good conversation."
Valencia Silverstar: "Very well." Valencia nods, then turns to leave, not sad to be out of the cell herself. She was never one for close spaces, oh no. Especially with someone like that.
The Pale Angel tempted him with little nothings, so she can wriggle herself at him if he needs to be amused that badly.
And that, as far as she was concerned, was that.
- And then, as soon as they walk out, it meets them, now, on the twilight of the day.... a raven of essence, speaking in a voice very familiar.... "Vorpal darling, I hope this message finds you in good spirits! We have a little trouble here: the General has appeared outside of the Boil with an army. He wants my head, and Moon's -- our ploy has worked. Unless you are all quite occupied, I am wondering if it would be possible for you to lend us any assistance? I'm fairly sure he has only one other deathknight with him. We have an opprotunity to destroy a good part of the Bishop's forces (and one or two of his precious deathknights) piecemeal, but I would want at least you present to make sure the destruction is complete. We're meeting with the locals to arrange something unpleasant for the dear boy. Ask Cael to reply on the feasibility as soon as possible, yes? Will follow up with more messages as the situation updates, and possible arrangements for insertion into hostile territory and pickup by moi. Looking forward to your reply Vorpy!"
It says, before dissipating in a cloud of essence...
Vorpal: There is a long moment of silence. The Pale Angel stares at the spot where the raven was only a moment ago, her face absolutely, totally blank.
Finally, she turns her head slightly, to catch Valencia's eye.
"Tell me", she asks, "Has she changed at all since the last time you heard her speak?"
Valencia Silverstar: Valencia pauses for a moment, revealing nothing. Then she turns to the deathknight and smirks, actually smirks. "That, I think, is more like the Selina I used to know." The smirk becomes a slight grin as she shoulders past them all and looks around for somewhere to go and have the discussion.
Vorpal: Vorpal cups her palm against the side of her face.
"I was afraid of that", she sighs, before moving after the Lunar.
Cael: Vorpal? Why did the world seem to darken somewhat as she listened to the that message....
Curoius...
"Well, that is interesting, eh Pale Angel?"
Vorpal: "Interesting?" she asks without turning. "That's one way to put it, I suppose."
Valencia Silverstar: I wonder how much of that is left.
That familiar tone certainly confirmed what she had suspected from that...regrettable session.
Yes, one is after the other.
She almost wanted to watch that. Almost. It was a bit too rude for her to really admit it.
"Life is about interesting." Comes her monotone commentry.
- - Back to Fourth Movement
- - Back to A Dance of Angels
