GoldenCat/Escape
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Escape From The Underworld
As the two angels leave the presence of the lords of the dark religion and walk out of the room, and towards the corridor... they hear screams. Many, many screams. Coming from the cathedral, coming from outside....the clashing of blades. Shouts, in the voices of the living and the dead... quite a commotion, outside. Faint, faint, probably outside the cathedral...
As they walk into the open space of the cathedral, amidst the banks and the shrines, you see people, the weak out of the living and the dead, running... up to side doors and stairs, screaming... you hear words, so many... and one stands out, 'Guard. It's th guard!'.... Aand amidst the flow, the priest walks against the flow, slowly towards the open doors...
Vorpal: "This is not your work, is it?" Vorpal asks absently from Selina, taking in the scene as she walks onwards, slightly more slowly than before.
Selina De Windia: "No." Selina says lightly, looking at the doorway in irritation and guarded anxiety. "But I thought of doing it. After I was gone though. Valencia may decide to rip me into a hundred pieces if she catches me here."
Looking about, she makes sure that no one else in the room is looking at her -- that they've all filed out, and the priest's attention is focused on the doorway.
Cathedral: They are leaving, and the Priest has come to the doorway. A large, screeching bird of flame appear on it, exploding over the priest, engulfing him and some nearby banks in flame.... Selina recognizes the spell, a sorcery used by the powerful of Windia’s Mage-Guards.
Vorpal: In all truth, Vorpal had been thinking of having the Dark Angel do it as well. The sheer fact that the Bishop's minions had a portal within the walls of Windia would be a fatal point when it comes to determining how long the city could stand against the Deathlord's forces.
Turning her gaze at Selina, her eyes glittering in the halo of the fire, the Ghost-Blooded states calmly: "I'm going to assume you won't stay around to let her find you."
Selina De Windia: "Correct." Selina replies, moving to the side in order to get into a dark corner to use her stealth charm. "And if you are wise, neither will you. We'd better leave from another entrance before they rush in."
Vorpal: "There are windows on the upper levels", Vorpal says as she follows after Selina, pulling the hood of her cloak over her head as she does so. "If we use one that is not exactly above that front door, we might get out without notice..."
Assuming, of course, that the Windian soldiers didn't get the idea of attacking this place through the windows.
Cathedral: As they go up the stairs, a row, two... three.... and get to a corridor, a long one... there's two openings to the right that seem like they go to the walkaways above the main hall of the cathedral, and three doors that seem to lead to small rooms to their left.... entering the first door, they see a small cell, an open window to the outside letting in the sharp, howling winds...
Vorpal: Vorpal peeks out, to see what's down below, and also to make a quick estimation of how high it is.
Cathedral: A big, big cliff going down.... and the big wall of sharp stone to the side, with all the ghosts and humans impaled in it... of razor-sharp stones. Different lengths. And she would need to jump over a big cliff first, to land on razor-sharp rocks... and then, yes, she could _try_;
Vorpal: "This one is not for me", Vorpal states, leaning back in. "You might be able to get away, though."
Selina De Windia: "I'll wait until you find one. It's all the same to me in the end." She says with a shrug.
Cathedral: The sounds keep getting louder from downstairs, a explosion... another....
Vorpal: Vorpal remembers what she saw when she came in - The Cathedral is built on the side of a mount - there is the cliff going down on one side, but on the other the mountain is going up - she might be able to jump out of a window and climb up....
Vorpal looks oddly at Selina as the other Abyssal speaks. That was... something she had not expected from the assassin.
"Let's try the other side", she says and heads back into the corridor. "I might be able to climb along the mountainside there."
Cathedral: Selina follows her down, ready to make a...distraction, if someone is in the way below. A very noisy distraction.
Vorpal: "No, this way", Vorpal gestures Selina to follow her as the Dark Angel turns towards the staircase. "Let's use the walkway."
Cathedral: As they pass, they hear the sounds below the walkway, on the main hall.... flames, shouts... and soon, going fast and not looking down, they are on the other side!
...Which happens to be an exact mirror of what you saw on the other place, except this one has stairs at the end of the corridors.
Vorpal: Vorpal does not slow down. If this side is the mirror image of the other, then there should be an identical chamber with an identical window on this side, too...
And there it is! Except this one has the glass window sealed shut...
Selina De Windia: Gritting her teeth, Selina sidesteps Vorpal and lifts one hand, a blast of elemental air and lightning shattering the window. Not a big one...but one big enough to do the job.
Vorpal: Her sword half-way out, as it had been her intention to use the Soulsteel blade to cut a hole through the window herself, Vorpal halts for a moment as Selina employs her elemental power. Then, seeing that a number of sharp edges still remain on the window, she draws the Mournful Kiss fully and uses it to scrape the remaining depris out of the window.
Selina De Windia: With Vorpal out of opening, Selina activates her stealth charm, shadows warping subtly around her so as to make a observer's eye pass over her, and she leaps out of the window herself, wings unfolding to catch the winds.
Vorpal: The sounds of battle faint behind the two angels as they flee, the decrepit plants of the Underworld breaking and coming out with their roots as Vorpal tries to climb, rock and earth seeming so... porous, under her strong fingers...
The plants come out on Vorpal's fingers, the rock gives way, but she holds to it, she holds to it 'till her fingers go into stone, holding to her life as she always has... and, face soaked with sweat, the heavily armored Exalt climbs up to the safety of a path in the mountain... and she hears something. Both do. A faint... a laugh. A laugh coming from the cathedral...
And, standing high above it, his ruined wings flapping, stands Black Avian, admiring his job...
Selina De Windia: Well, guess they're meeting the old preacher right about now.
Selina feels a momentary guilt for not helping what are technically her own guards against the Hierophant, but she did have a treaty going.
I'll spit in his face before I give him what Void Puppeteer got...later.
And then she sees someone else, flying above the cathedral. With a blue, curved sword. And it's not Valencia. In fact, it's the one who got away.
And you won't this time.
Turning about, Selina gains altitude as quickly as possible, reaching into her greatcoat and recovering Angeldust, the sickle growing into its full-sized scythe form as she hefts it and gets ready to dive down on the hapless ghostly assassin.
Black Avian: Black Avian laughs as you approach, seeing something amusing down the cathedral's garden. "Burn, Deathknights. This is the Dead Hand's revenge."
Selina De Windia: Watching the ghost closely as she lines up to attack him from the proper distance with softened beats of her wings, Selina lets her own slight grin come up, though she doesn't laugh. It'd never do for this.
He will die in the manner he existed.
Somewhere near the base of Angeldust's blade, two points of red light suddenly wink into existance, not enough to shine, but enough to be noticed by Selina. Chimes of Nothing, the Nephwrack imprisoned within her scythe, senses his mistress' imminent attack. Ghost, mortal, or exalt, he lusts to send them into the Void -- the 'eyes' flickering at Selina then running along the blade to peer at Black Avian as Selina sheathes it in Abyssal energy and draws it back for the strike.
More merciful than I'll grant to the Hierophant.
With a sudden burst of speed she dives at the ghost as silently as an owl stooping on its prey, Angeldust's cold blade whistling only the tiniest bit in the wind as it comes out and across in an arc to take the ghost in the side. Chimes of Nothing's 'eyes' are a faint red blur in the swift sweeping slash as Selina's expression composes to her custom indifference during the moment of the kill.
He screams
Black Avian: Falling on the sky, managing to move out of the way for a few inches, he falls.... trying to stabilize in the air, he looks up, seeing the Dark Angel, his eyes widening... "You!"
Selina De Windia: "Me." Selina replies in an almost ghostly fashion, voice seemingly ethereal with deathly calm as she comes up from her follow through, gem suddenly brightening a little at her through, catching what little light there is in this place.
Moving at him again, Selina's expression doesn't change a whit as she slashes with Angeldust once more, the blade crackling for a moment as she enchants it for this strike. And not waiting for a response.
Black Avian: His flesh hardens, like scales, his eyes gleaming in a menacing way. "The same unholy beauty, yes..."
"I know when not to play, though. Your death shall come... but not today." He says, diving down desperately fast! "See you, Dark Angel...."
Black Avian dives down, down into the cliff with the sharp stones, disappearing into the blackness beneath....
Selina De Windia: Looking about, Selina tries to find Vorpal again, gaining altitude as she keeps Angeldust at ready.
Vorpal: Phew...Vorpal's efforts to climb atop the cliff leaves her more strained than it should have. The wounds she received yesterday have healed quickly and well, but not even her extraordinary regenerative capabilities could banish the damage wrought about by the ghosts so easily. The pain impedes her process, but also serves as a whip to keep her going. For Vorpal, this is just another of the personal challenges on the road of her life, an obstacle to be conquered with her own abilities alone.
Her teeth have been clenched tightly together by the time she reaches the top, her ribs throbbing. It is by this time that she notices the Dark Angel swooping off.Eh?
In front of Vorpal, a ghostly figure speaks.
Stranger: "That show downstair's your doing?"
Speaks the figure, clad in black cape and a big red hat, leaning against a stone....
Vorpal: Vorpal turns her gaze from the battle fought above.
"No... not to my knowledge." She responds slowly, refusing to back down from the stranger but giving him (her?) a slow, appraising glace from head to toes. "These are uncertain times."
"And keeping that in mind", she adds, "You won't be troubled by this... " With these words she slides her sword free from its scabbard, black blade pointing at the rocky ground but ready to be put into play.
Stranger: "I suppose not." He says, a great cane.... a strange one, akin to a... Firewand? coming out of his cape. "See, I was here specifically if you pulled a double-crossing on my employers. And, that way of escape..." He shakes his head. "You really thought you would escape like that within their place of power?"
Vorpal: "The sole reason why we came out that way was because we had no business trying to meddle with your kind clashing whoever is currently ransacking that place", Vorpal responds, her body tensing and ready to move in any direction should the situation demand it. "Speaking of which, don't you have anything better to do than to harass us? We agreed to meet again in two days - attack me now, and it is you who is doublecrossing here."
Stranger: "Is that so....?" He says, stroking his chin, and looking at Vorpal... then walking up close to her, looking down on the commotion... as it stops. "Yes, I don't suppose you two Abyssals would be involved with these cloaks downstairs. Alright, then. Sorry to doubt, miss."
He says, taking off his hat and making a salute. "Was just doing my job."
Vorpal: Good grief...Vorpal watches the stranger go, her face expressioneless, her eyes cold, her sword still in her hand. All this, however, hides a rather surprised state of mind.Now I've seen everything.
Selina De Windia: Spotting her partner, Selina moves down, making a landing as her open greatcoat flutters a bit in the air, no longer muffled by her stealth charm. "Is there a...problem here?" She asks suspiciously, eyeing what looks to be the man's firewand as she touches down behind Vorpal. Chimes of Nothing's little twin points of light flicker first toward Vorpal, than the man.
Stranger: "None right now. I just took by your hasty retreat that you had double-crossed our masters... and I am here exactly to prevent that very thing. But, your friend there says it's not like that... and I believe her. She has the eyes of an honest lady." He says, tipping his hat.
Vorpal: "Now I've seen everything", the Ghost-Blooded admits aloud, throwing a glance over her shoulder at the Dark Angel. "I just spoke with a reasonable follower of the Bishop!"
Her eyes flicker up for a moment up at the ominous scythe on Selina's shoulder, before focusing back on the assassin again. "How about you? Was that an old friend of yours?"
Selina De Windia: "You could say that." She replies simply, looking the man over, and trying to get an idea of whether he's an Exalt or not.
Pilgrim: "Oh, and I am not a follower of the big bad shiney. I'm a mercenary." He says, "So rude for not introducing myself. I tend to let people take only my image to the grave, you see... I am Pilgrim on the Desert of Death. A pleasure to meet such fine leadies. Now, if you excuse me... I think they might need my help down there... just in case. Gotta earn my pay, after all... but, if you ever need, I suppose I will be for hire once this job is over."
Selina De Windia: "Mercenary deathknight?" Selina ventures, raising an eyebrow at him and his weapon.Could be a southerner? Nah.
Vorpal: "Oh." Vorpal settles down, even rewarding the Pilgrim's politeness with a little smile of her own. "It would have been too good to be true, after all."
Pilgrim: "Oh noo, I don't hold such an Exalted station.... anymore."
"Once upon a time... and I still hold quite a bit of power from back then.", he grins, taking of his hat and holding it so it doesn't fall, revealing all his face again... and you can see that, despite the ghostly complexion, clearly unnatural, he was once a southerner... although one with slimmer hair than most, and skin of bronze instead of ebony. "Still can make quite a deal of money with it. Although probably not that much compared to what you two ivory goddesses would get if you decided to sell your skills, hmmm?"
Selina De Windia: Former Solar?
Selina had heard rumors of Solars with firewands...but not much. Or supposedly, they were Solars. One could never be sure when it was just mentioned as 'Anathema'.
"I see." She replies, looking at the cathedral than back to him. "Already do, in fact, I'm on a job right now."
Vorpal: Only that you like to forget it whenever it's convenient for you, Vorpal adds dryly in her mind, but doesn't bother saying it aloud.
Sheathing her sword, the Ghost-Blooded moves to the edge of the cliff and cranes her head in an attempt to see what is happening within the cathedral.
Pilgrim: "Oh, not everyone who worships big bad shiney is so bad... although the higher schelons supposedly are. Like the baldy or the old ghosts. The Vestal is quite agreeable, though... although it is such a pity to see her parading wth these sweethearts and knowing you are out of the menu. I swear, thankfully I am not alive, or I wouldn't be able to contain myself..." He chuckles.
"Oh, thought you held your rank with some Deathlord. Why don't you? All those who do swim in luxury... oh well, I suppose I will see you sometime, missus." With that, he jumps off the cliff, running and sliding down, and jumping out of the cathedral walls....
Selina De Windia: Selina sighs and looks heavenward. "The Hierophant is so full of shit he probably cries brown tears." She replies dryly, then shrinks her scythe down and puts it back at her right hip under the greatcoat.
Vorpal: "It would be a pity to strike that one down", Vorpal mentions as she watches Pilgrim go. Then, with a slanted smile and a glance at the Dark Angel, she adds: "You would do well to take some tips from how he behaves."
Selina De Windia: Ruffling her feathers as she frowns, Selina gives a prim "I merely dish back what I receive. The Hierophant was asking for it." as she moves up to the cliffside and peers down into the cathedral grounds.
The Cathedral is... empty. On its grounds, she sees nothing but silence, and the corpses of many death-worshipers, the quicksilver remains of ghosts, and the body of a single city guard... the others seem to have gone into the cathedral, but it's all... silent now. Unearthly so, the Underworld's qualities making Selina hear things from the cathedral that may or may not be truly there...
"Besides, I have an unpleasant history with the Bishop's men. I was hired by the Bishop once...to kill some Lunar who might have supported the Bull of the North. My contact to the Bishop, Void Puppeteer, was such a abominable wretch, we ended up getting into a fight." Selina shrugs after saying that, turning away from the cathedral and making a move to start down the path. "Fanatics are terrible to deal with -- and Void Puppeteer was supposed to be a logical caste. If I was working under Hierophant I would have drugged Charmaine, drugged him with something else, and locked them in a room together just so I'd get peace."
Vorpal: "Whatever", Vorpal chuckles with an oddly good humor. Although, in all honestly, she had to admit that there was a certain sort of sense in Selina's words, the Ghost-Blooded was also fairly certain that there were very few people in the entire Creation whom the Dark Angel actually found to be anywhere near the term 'agreeable'.
Turning to walk along the path as well, Vorpal tugs the hood a little further down her head. "Let's get out of here."
Selina De Windia: "Yes, let us." Not looking back at the cathedral, she begins walking down the path as well, closing her greatcoat as she runs a hand through her fiery red hair.
And so, they go... and spend their night in the Underworld... waiting. Resonance is purged, few words are spoken. The two Abyssal mistresses take turns at sleeping, the one awake wary for any hazards of the Underworld... and as Vorpal sleeps...
...as she closes her eyes... she sees herself... somewhere.
The Lover Speaks
She hears droplets, heavy droplets falling on pools of water.... she tries to move, but there is no way. She is bound, tightly. Ropes bound her feet and her hands, bound heavily to a cross, like the angel in her anima. Her alabaster skin feels the cold air of the room in its entirely, as she notices there is... nothing covering her bound body. the only covering she has is her bastard sword, and its belt hanging on her hips, the sword covering her vulnerability...
She sees many dark figures on the darkness, which she cannot make out anything but their existence there, but the only figure she can pinpoint is... her mistress.
Sat on a cushion, sedate look on her face, uninsterested on the woman bound in front of her like a cat feigning ignorance of its prey, she absent-mindedly shakes a chalice of wine on her hand....
Bound there like a sacrifice for all to see and touch...
Vorpal: What the...?
Grunting, she tugs experimentally at the ropes which bind her. She does not expect them to yield, but she tries nonetheless, very much aware of how vulnerable she is to anyone who might walk past.
Like damned I will --
The claustrophobic panic of the moment subsides at the sight of her mistress. Was this another of the Deathlord's games? Exhaling a slow, quiet sigh, she quiets down, her eyes downcast, yet her mien determined as always.
So that's how it is...
The Lover Clad in the Raiment of Tears: The ropes do not yield.
In fact, at every struggle, they become tighter... new ropes pushing up like snakes, binding around her breasts and pushing them up, making her Pale skin red where the ropes pass, burning.
The Lover is still uninsterested, shaking the chalice, bringing it to her lips, sipping the wine with eyes almost closed....
"Well?" She asks, to no one in particular.
Vorpal: "Mistress."
Vorpal forces it through her lips. It was never an easy word for her to say, but she knows its importance. She looks up, her white hair hanging limply around her face, her eyes twin pools of red amidst pale bangles.
"The boy will come to you."
The Lover Clad in the Raiment of Tears: The Lover smiles... slightly. A smile one can only barely notice. She still does not look at the Pale Angel directly, taking her time as she sips once again from the chalice, letting Vorpal's words hang in the air....
"Very well."
"But you seem to have gone the wrong way. Care to enlighten me?"
Vorpal: "A little detour to ensure the boy's loyalty", Vorpal responds softly, allowing her gaze drift down once again. "He swore to come willingly to you in return. I thought it simpler that way than having to drag him across the countryside by force."
The Lover Clad in the Raiment of Tears: "Oh?" She finally gets up, walking up and moving towards Vorpal, her hips swaying hipnotically...
"And why else did you think I chose you, Pale Angel? For being a great diplomat, or for being alluring, and... forceful?" She says, breathing so close to Vorpal, her body wrapped in Orichalcum touching Vorpal's... "You chose it because you wanted to help. I did not care for these wishes for princes you keep here, my Pale Angel..."
She touches over Vorpal's heart, massaging her skin and hearing the throbbing of Vorpal's heart, "But for what you have here." And her fingers come down, holding the handle of her sword... and her secret places behind it, touching the Pale Angel in a way that makes her flush and brings whimpers.
"Like that delightfully innocent boy. You two are more alike than you could possibly believe... I want him, my Pale Angel.. Soon."
Vorpal: Vorpal draws in a shuddering breath under her touch. With anyone else, she could tell them to back off, force them retreat with her words alone, tell them to do it quickly or they would draw away a bloodied stump. But not with this one, not with her mistress.
Thus, she can do nothing else but to endure. And although it hurts her, it hurts her skin to be touched by the Deathlord, hurts her soul to be unable to prevent someone from coming so deep into her, she endures... for she has no other choice.
"Then --" she gasps for breath and tries again, combatting the pain with dark humour of her Ghost-Blooded heritage. "Then bargaining with the Bis... hop... is out of question, is it? They failed to... take him with their blades, now they want to... buy him."
The Lover Clad in the Raiment of Tears: "To buy his sweet innocence and his wonderful sword?", she giggles, and the room shivers as she does.
"Why... of course. They are mine. Actually... I am quite angry about them destroying Whiteshield. It's not even quite like him... wonder who did it. He would at least make them some droll cult. Such wholesale destruction of pretty things... pretty things that were mine to corrupt... I am very angry, my Pale Angel." Her voice retains the same tone, despite that, as she turns away... "Ask for... an Abyssal Essence. For the Blade alone. If they do not comply... leave. Do not fight with them. That would be... most unfortunate."
"Now, if they come to you... then, kill them. Every. Last. One. Of. Them. Bath in their blood, pale angel... make them feel the scarlet of your eyes."
Vorpal: As the Lover turns away, Vorpal uses the chance to blink her eyes rapidly, to fight down the tears that threaten to mist her sight. She shivers in the cold darkness, the sudden rush of heat brought about by the Lover's touch already melting away.
Sullied. She feels sullied as always after her mistress' caresses, her very identity violated by the Deathlord she serves. As always, the Lover had chosen the best possible way to torture her soul. Physical pain, verbal abuse, being made to crawl through the ditches of mud and dung, all this she would do willingly - no, gladly, if it would wipe away the feeling of filth lingering within her, left there by the Lover's touch.
Pain mixes together with hot, smouldering anger.
Her head slumps down against her chest, her hair covering her face, hiding away the tears and the trembling of her chin. Her pale skin seems to glow in a sharp contrast against the surrounding darkness.
"They shall die", she whispers, through clenched teeth.
The Lover Clad in the Raiment of Tears: "Very well, my Pale Angel. Very well. Now, go...."
With a dismisive gesture, she walks away, and soon, all the blurred figures on the background go towards Vorpal, and they begin to touch her, make her a toy amidst a crowd...
....and then she wakes up.
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